Theo
CHIROPRACTIC CARE
Wednesday
It was hard not to smile at them. Rochelle and Kira sat in the waiting area, and their laughter was infectious.
I stood just outside my office door, catching pieces of what they said.
“That kid with the dimple?”
“Derek, I know. It moves, though. One minute it’s here, then it’s here.”
My daughter pointed from her cheek to her chin, and Rochelle snorted.
Mario, my receptionist and assistant, kept glancing at them. His mouth was parted, glasses slipping down his nose like he was too distracted to push them back up.
I understood the feeling. But if I went over there and tried to join in, whatever magic that was unfolding between my sister and daughter would dissolve. I had my place, and it wasn’t laughing over boys they knew.
May, my final client of the day, shuffled in, grinning in their direction.
“They’re cute, aren’t they?” Her voice was husky with age, and it pulled my focus back.
Drudging up what I knew about her spinal care, I set her through her paces and left her feeling like she could move without the usual stab of pain.
“Your hands are like magic,” she purred happily. “What do I have to do to get a massage from you?”
I forced a good-natured laugh, but this wasn’t the first time a female client had asked me that.
“May, we talked about this. You know that’s Loretta’s area. Mario can set up an appointment for you.”
She tsked, put her hands to her lower back, and thrust her hips forward in an awkward stretch. “It’s because you’re saving it for your girlfriend, aren’t you? That woman who’s sitting with your daughter?”
My stomach turned as I opened the door for her. “That’s my sister, actually.”
She shuffled to the threshold then paused, waggling her brows at me. “If you’re single, I have–”
“No, no,” I blurted, panicked. “I’m not looking for anything romantic right now, thank you. I, uh, have my hands full with my daughter.” And a fiery, beautiful teacher who wanted nothing to do with me.
May pouted. At least, I thought it was a pout. As she shuffled off, she started complaining that it was “such a shame that a man who looks like that has no one to go home to”.
Rochelle and Kira were quiet, holding in a silent snicker as they flipped their stares from May to me and back again. Once my final client was out of earshot, Rochelle dropped her hand and asked whether May managed to grab a handful of my ass, and Kira’s expression went from teasing to horrified.
“I’m pretty sure my ass is safe,” I answered.
“Dad, ew,” Kira said, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. “Can we go now? I need to finish this paper.”
“You’ll have time after dinner,” Rochelle said, patting her shoulder.
Mario slipped by us with a soft goodbye as we stepped into the hallway, and I slung my arm around my daughter, asking, “So, how’s that paper going, anyway?”
She slumped against me as we walked, and with Rochelle flanking her other side, we looked like a small, but content, family.
Since that meeting with Lilly, Kira was given a different book, and the relief that bloomed on her face wrung something out of me that day. Since then, things have been better.
It took a couple of weeks, but she caught up to the tasks that were set and was back on track with her program. Lilly and Mia helped her believe that what they knew about her mother wouldn’t change her grades, and convinced her to see the counselor. It made a world of difference.
What was more important, though, was that she started accepting my help. We worked together. I read the book during the hours she slept, and we went over chapters as we ate our breakfast.
She told me stories about her castmates from the play and her classmates from the program. She was making friends again. Even the two snooty girls, Amber and Natasha, included her in class now.
And the effect it had on me was like the loosening of a chain. I felt in control again, like maybe I wasn’t letting her down anymore.
“It’s okay. I think I understood Miss Walker’s question? But I’m not sure about the theme. It’s about how love changes people.”
Rochelle nodded next to her. “You’re too young to know that love makes you do stupid things. How’re you supposed to write about it?”
She studied her aunt. “What stupid things have you done?”
“Oh, you know. The usual. Changed everything about myself for someone else.”
I smothered the instant urge to hurt her ex-husband. It was useless anyway. Roger left Rochelle a while ago, and there wasn’t anything I could do about him anymore. My sister was moving on, and that was what I had to focus on.
“You did that?” Kira asked, dubious.
“Oh yeah. Well, it wasn’t just for him. I had to fit the mold. People think a critic should say things like ‘marvelous’ and ‘movement’ while they talk about art.”
I could almost feel Kira’s confusion as she twisted to look up at me.
“Don’t worry, kid. Your aunt knows it was a bad move. Changing who you are for someone else is romcom bullshit.”
She frowned. “Right. You’d never do that.”
Rochelle scoffed. “Your dad’s too stubborn to change for anyone. Even Tash didn’t stand a chance.”
I opened my mouth but couldn’t think of a thing to say. Tash didn’t want me to change, did she?
My sister eyed us both as a stab of grief shifted our expressions. She pursed her lips, realizing what she’d said, then tried to get us back onto easier footing.
Teasing, she said, “But if he found someone he actually liked, maybe he’d be less of a grump?”
Kira gave her a tight smile and said, “Looks like he’s stuck this way forever then.”
Rochelle laughed.
Conversation turned to easier things as we strode out onto the street and rode the subway, and I was relieved. Their questions about changing for love threw me.
I’d never been in love before, not even with the mother of my child. At best, I had a few urge-fulfilling flings that didn’t last longer than a couple of weeks. I’d never been around someone who I wanted to spend every spare moment with. I’d never spent hours of my day thinking of a single person.
“Mm-mm. No. You do not get to talk to me after that.”
I could see her as if it had just happened. Her silky hair ruffled and wild, cheeks flushed pink, dark eyes blown wide.
When was I going to stop thinking about her?
I was tired of it. Tired of replaying that day in the closet, of picturing her naked, of looking for signs of her. I was tired of losing control.
Because my daughter and sister were right. I wasn’t the type of man who changed for someone else. I wasn’t the kind of guy who fell in love.
So nothing about how I felt now made sense.
The last person I’d ever fall for was Mia Walker; I knew that. But she was in my head, and I fucking hated that I couldn’t get her out of it.