Page 22 of Extended Bridge

Damn. Can’t argue with his logic. “You make a good case.”

“You mean B made sense?” Luke approaches, slapping Bennett on the back.

He shrugs. “Happens sometimes. How’s the audience tonight?”

“As good as last night. The opening acts did a great job, but they’re clamoring for the real deal.”

The other members of the band approach. Río asks, “Who’s the real deal?”

“That’d be us,” Bennett replies.

Tristan points to himself. “I’m a real deal now? Cool.”

The five of them continue in the same vein as I back away. IamBennett’s physical therapist, not groupie, manager, or member of the crew. I’m not part of this repartee. My back hits a wall, which steadies me.

From this distance, I observe the band’s interactions. Luke is part of the mix, laughing with them, exchanging fist bumps. To the outside world, they seem to be a close-knit group offriends about to embark on a shared experience, as Darren described.

Río pulls Bennett aside, and they have what appears to be an intense conversation—or at least an intimate one. A protracted discussion between friends. They end with bro hugs. If this isn’t a sign of friendship, I don’t know what is. Bennett needs to understand an ex-best friend from high school isn’t the be all and end all.

Suddenly, the air shifts. Becomes charged. The five group members form a circle, raise their fists into the air. Bennett looks at each guy. In a booming voice, he yells, “Strapped, locked, and loaded, are you ready to roll with Untamed Coaster?” The band lets out a collective whoop and turns toward the stage door.

When he reaches it, Bennett’s head goes in all directions before he zeroes in on me. His index finger extends toward me, and wiggles. Of their own volition, my feet take me to him. “Have a good time out there,” I offer.

“I will, knowing you’re here.” He points to the black drapes. “See you on the flip side.” With that, he disappears onto the darkened stage.

Anticipation among the crowd reaches fevered heights.

Clapping and stomping and whistling reverberates throughout the arena.

I relocate to the side of the stage, on the other side of the black curtain, next to Luke and some others I haven’t yet met.

Río pounds his drums three times and the lights flick on, illuminating all five guys at their instruments. Well, four plus Bennett who stands at the mic stand. It’s as if the crowd gets permission to lose their minds, because pandemonium ensues. They knew what to expect, yet they were joking and laughing backstage as if they were going to a ball game. My mind can’t compute the juxtaposition.

For the first part of the concert, I enjoy the music and interactions with the audience. I also detail how Bennett moves with care, taking turns slowly. He’s cautious out there, not that anyone cheering fortheir favorite musicians would notice the difference. But I do. And I appreciate it.

“They’re on fire.” Jeb walks up to my side. “I love watching them play. An energy lights up in each one and together they’re magic.”

“For such a big guy”—I physically turn toward him while keeping an eye on the stage—“you sure do have some amazing observations.”

His stomach bounces while he laughs. “How does one preclude the other?”

“You’ve got me there.”

“I wanted to thank you,” he continues. “The exercises you sent me are tough, but I know they’ll work. I promise to do them twice a day, like you recommended in your email.”

“Happy to help. Please let me know if you have any questions or need clarification on any of the moves.” I cringe as Bennett takes a turn too fast, winces, then sings while standing in place. After a full chorus, he covers the rest of the catwalk, without any disruption to his gait. If nothing else, his body will dictate how much he can handle.

“I definitely will. Is it all right if I share your exercises with some of my buddies? We all have back pain.”

“Of course. Share away!”I really should examine each one.

His ask does make me feel all fuzzy inside. Something I haven’t felt in a long time, since I was dealing with patients. Darren’s death altered my trajectory. I no longer was able to be in the field—I was out of my mind with grief and guilt. The need to be an administrator, opening ten clinics, called out to me. A promise I made to Darren at his grave.

Another man says hi to Jeb, and I’m introduced to him as well as five more guys on the crew. While we’re talking, I keep watching the stage to ensure Bennett doesn’t do some other careless move. He doesn’t. Another woman joins us, introducing herself as Nese Dalton, the band’s stylist. She’s the one to whom Bennett waved when he got the leather pants.

“I like what you’ve got them wearing,” I note.

She beams. “Thanks. I don’t veer too far from their natural styles. Give them a bit of polish, you know.”

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