Physical Therapy (2 page)

“On the other hand,” I told her, trying to look at her face and finding it harder than I thought it would be, “I earned half my degree in prison while I was serving time for an operating while intoxicated vehicular homicide in the state of Wisconsin.” I got that out, all in one, and felt relieved. “Here.” I gave her what my counselor at school called my “curriculum vitae.”

She stared at me blankly.

“My résumé. It"s all there.”

“Maybe you could start with your name?”

“Oh.” I wiped my hand on my jeans and held it out. “I"m Jordan Jensen.”

“Isabelle Atherton,” she said. “Izzie.” She shook my hand firmly and motioned for me to follow her. “My office is back here.”

She led me into a tiny, cramped little room with wire bookshelves and a cluttered desk. I noticed posters of women"s bodybuilding competitions taped haphazardly to the walls. It took me a minute, but I suddenly realized they were mostly pictures of Izzie herself. I was staring openly when she coughed delicately for my attention.

“I"m sorry,” I murmured.

“Now, I guess you have quite a story to tell.” She flipped my résumé over and looked at the back of the page. “It"s tough to look for a job at the best of times.”

“Yes.”

“You are behind some serious stuff here.” She put my paperwork down and looked at me over folded hands. “Why, exactly, should I hire someone with a record like yours?”

Physical Therapy

5

I cringed inwardly. My transition counselors told me to expect that question. I"d taken some career-planning classes and they"d fired that very question at me in a mock interview. It still didn"t make hearing it any easier.

“I"m supposed to tell you how qualified I am for this job, that I"ll do it to the best of my ability. I"m supposed to smile at you and win you over with my personal charm. I could tell you that I have letters from teachers and clergymen. I could tell you that I regret my past and would give anything to undo it. I could say that I"m a changed man, and that if you give me even the slightest chance I"ll prove it to you.” I ran out of words right about then and grew silent for a minute as I watched her rock back and forth in her office chair. She appeared to be someone who didn"t do stillness. I understood that, but unfortunately, my chair didn"t rock. “I don"t know why you should hire me, but I wish you would,” I told her. “You won"t regret it.”

“You"re hired,” she said simply. “Screw up—do anything you"re not supposed to do in any way—and I"ll give you one minute to start running before I make you sorry you were ever born.”

I exhaled a deep breath and smiled. I didn"t say,
Too late
, but it crossed my mind.

She got up and started moving again, and I followed her with my eyes past all those pictures of her oiled up and posing. “I"m going to get you a list of the things I"ll expect you to be responsible for. When can you start?” She went to a filing cabinet and pulled out a drawer.

Still stunned by my good fortune, I was slow to answer. “Whenever you need me.

Just name a time.”

Izzie was rummaging around, pulling out what looked like stacks of forms for me to fill out. “Now is good. We don"t actually have a personal trainer on-site right now, except for me. Our clientele comes in two types, basically. We have the people who come in here just to socialize and say they worked out, and we have the volunteer firefighters and the police who use the gym for regular workouts. Those are pretty serious regular patrons. There are a few bodybuilders in town, who like to pump iron and bulk up. Some health nuts. We have two or three members that I work with specifically for accident rehabilitation, and three that come in for postsurgical sports rehab. The local chiropractors and orthopedists refer clients if they think they"d benefit from strength training.” I heard her say under her breath, “
As if there’s anyone who
wouldn’t
.”

I remained silent while she spoke, wondering what kinds of things I"d be doing.

“I"ve worked in gyms before. It"s in my—”

“I saw.” She turned to me and handed off a stack of papers. “I"ll need you to fill out the top three forms first, and then you can just let me know which shift you"d prefer. Take the rest home with you and bring them back completed by tomorrow. I work from opening to closing, and frankly”—she fell back into her office chair—“it"s starting to blow.”

6

Z. A. Maxfield

I grinned. “I"ll work the hours you choose for me, whatever is most convenient.

I"m just grateful—”

“As to that”—she pursed her lips—“I don"t want your gratitude. I want your hard work and devotion. Possibly even your worship.”

I stared at her because she didn"t grin after she said that, even after a minute or two when it seemed likely that anyone in their right mind who had just expressed a desire to be worshipped would definitely have cracked a smile.

“So,” she said, still serious. “Do you need a pen?”

“No.” I reached into the pocket of my jeans. “I have… I brought one.”

“Excellent. When you"re done with that, I"ll be in the men"s locker room. If you want to get started right away, you can take over for me.”

“Sure,” I said, scanning the employment form. “I"ll be there.”

“You can"t miss it,” she said. “It has a distinctish manly odor about it.” She shuddered.

Sighing, I faced her and folded my hands together carefully, avoiding the urge to fidget. “Just so you know…” I began. “So there"s nothing that could come up between us that might… Well, I find that distinctish manly odor appealing. If you have a problem with employing gay—”

“Gay too?” She finally,
finally
laughed. “Your interview technique is a little rocky, Jordan. You couldn"t sell yourself to a press gang.”

“Excuse me?”

“For your information, I wouldn"t hire a person just because they had a squeaky-clean rep and pictures of themselves dining with the crowned heads of Europe, and I wouldn"t turn away someone who"s trying to come back from some really bad decisions. That"s not the way I work.” Izzie came forward and awkwardly patted my arm, a gesture she might have thought reassuring, but because of the bulging muscles on her tanned arms still scared the crap out of me.

“How do you hire people?” I finally asked when the feeling came back to my fingers.

“I just look at the color of your aura. I knew right away I"d hire you, but I still felt a need to go through the motions. I hope you don"t mind.”

“No.” I meant it. “My aura?”

“Yes. It"s very vivid. It will be a pleasure looking at it.” She turned at the door before she left the room. “When you"re done…”

“I"ll see you in the men"s locker room. Got it.”

She grinned at me. “The boys are going to be so glad they won"t have to change in front of me anymore. I"m afraid I tend to ogle.” She left me alone to finish filling out my paperwork. Too late, I realized I hadn"t asked her what my aura looked like. I frowned down at my hand holding the pen.

Physical Therapy

7

Maybe I didn"t want to know.

8

Z. A. Maxfield

Chapter Two

Business was picking up at Day-Use by the time I got the first of my paperwork filled out. I took my place in the locker room, relieving Izzie of her squirt bottle. She had a basket with a number of cleaning supplies and rags in it, and she left me to it.

It could certainly be said that after several years in prison and rehab I knew how to clean a bathroom. Big or small, highly trafficked or barely used, there wasn"t a bathroom in the world that couldn"t benefit from conscientious upkeep, and I set myself to it right away.

Men filed in and out, barely paying attention to me unless they had to get around me. I liked that just fine. There was even something comforting in the fact that I could move among them anonymously. As I shined sinks and disinfected urinals, I was beginning to relax. I liked the awkward communication of men, who spoke and joked in the locker room and carefully avoided each other"s eyes while taking a piss.

I"d heard Cooper say on more than one occasion that Santo Ignacio—or St.

Nacho"s as everyone seemed to call it—didn"t have any hard-and-fast rules for its inhabitants other than to show respect and play nice. He"d made a life for himself here with Shawn, who had just graduated from a local university with an MFA in theater.

Neither of them seemed to have aspirations beyond working at Nacho"s Bar and volunteering with the local parks and rec department to bring music and theater to the citizens here. I thought that was great, but when I looked around town, I wondered if they even had any takers.

It was fair to call Santo Ignacio laid-back. Maybe even sleepy. It was only about eight a.m. on a Tuesday morning, and I was giving it the benefit of the doubt or I"d have said comatose. Given my past, I was looking forward to whatever peace and quiet it offered.

Physical Therapy

9

When I emerged from the locker rooms, Izzie met me and introduced me to a few of the customers. A group of older women flitted around the training machines like moths drawn to—but with a healthy respect for—flame.

“These ladies are the local chapter of the Red Hat Society,” Izzie told me, gesturing me over. “They usually work out here on Tuesdays and Thursdays. This is Jordan. He"s just joined my staff today.”

I gave a kind of wave and smiled. “Hello.” I must have looked nervous because one of them took my arm in a soft hand and gave it a squeeze.

“You"re new to Santo Ignacio?” she asked. I liked her eyes, which were fine and brown and had thin, wrinkled skin around them that made her look like she always smiled.

“Yes, ma"am,” I told her. “I just came into town yesterday.” Izzie got their attention with a percussive sound that made us all jump. “
Jordan
will be here to help you during your training, and if you have any questions about the machines or your workout, I"m sure he"d be happy to answer them to the best of his ability.” Izzie smiled at me.

I exhaled the breath I didn"t know I was holding. Way to throw me to the wolves.

But I could tell the ladies looked forward to asking me questions, even then, because they sighed with relief when Izzie left them in my care.

There was a moment of silence then, sort of a break in the action, and suddenly they started asking questions all at once. There was nothing for it but to get out their files, since I had no idea what most of them were talking about. Each one had a workout circuit, specially designed by Izzie, specific to her needs, but it seemed Izzie had been either too busy or maybe, I thought, a little impatient and hadn"t explained things fully or changed their workout routines as they"d gotten more accomplished.

While they were going through the customer file drawers getting their paperwork out for me, I looked around. I guessed the building had been an industrial manufacturing plant at one time. Izzie had apparently gutted it, leaving pillars for support, establishing separate areas for free weights and what appeared to be a number of older Nautilus machines. One corner held treadmills and exercise bicycles, both upright and recumbent. On one side of the room there was an exit for a men"s locker room, and on the other, a women"s. Against the wall behind the women"s locker room there were double glass doors leading to what looked like a dance studio, with mirrors on the walls that probably served for dance exercise classes.

I hadn"t looked at the schedule yet, but there were all kinds of dance classes at the gyms where I"d worked in San Francisco. I imagined my ladies of the Red Hat Society in some of the more daring fitness classes, like belly dancing or strip aerobics, and had to bite back a laugh. I had the feeling they would have gotten into the spirit of that just fine. They came over with their file folders then, all in a clump, and they reminded me of little girls in school.

10

Z. A. Maxfield

I still couldn"t put my finger on it, but things touched me in a strange way these days. Things appeared to me to be either crystal clear or completely obscure. I made connections in my mind that I never made before, like thinking of these ladies as little girls, and it made me glad to be able to help them out, to give them a little attention, because maybe that"s what we all need sometimes.

There seemed to be some sort of private room behind the wall that held the men"s locker room as well, which had a solid door and a sign that read THERAPY. Maybe that was where I would do massage, or maybe that"s where Izzie conducted one-on-one physical therapy for people who were injured. I could do some training with patients at the direction of a licensed physical therapist, and I had taken a lot of classes in therapeutic massage.

If there was one good thing that came from growing up in River Falls, it was that the Kansas City Chiefs held their annual training camp at UW-RF every year. When I had at last sobered up enough to consider what I could do for money, there had been a really interesting story in the newspaper about the team, trainers, doctors, physical therapists, and the rest of the entourage charged with keeping those million-dollar bodies at the peak of health. It had been like a bolt of lightning.
I could do that
. Maybe not for million-dollar bodies, but for someone who might need a little help.
Someone who
might need me.

I"d met a little resistance from counselors who worried that my past would hold me back or the issues on my record would preclude me from getting licenses. Some people thought I was just trying to get next to hot guys. I guess I had to give them credit for making a deduction based on history. No one could see that I was different from the man I"d been simply by looking at me. I didn"t hold it against them.

My new friends and I sat in a circle on the floor while I went over their files. One of my girls, as I thought of them now, emerged almost at once as a de facto leader of the Red Hat tribe. Her name was Sally, and she had smooth silver hair that looked like someone cut it using a bowl. She seemed outspoken, and she was a nudger, elbowing her girlfriends ruthlessly to make her point. Fortunately, no one seemed to mind this treatment. It took a minute for her to settle them down. The whole thing made me feel like I was a counselor back at science camp.