head back up front.
I shook my head and continued to work, diving headfirst into the hum and vibration of my machine. I coaxed my lungs to breathe, to settle the tension winding me up tight and leaving my shoulders rigid. I listened to the music playing from the sound system, Marilyn Manson's "Coma White," and drowned in my work. Until my client moaned and shifted beneath my hands and my reflexes sent me upright in a flash.
This was the fourth time in twenty minutes and my patience was wearing thin.
"You okay?" I asked, keeping my tone even and calm.
Ryan was his name and he smiled apologetically. "Yeah, man, sorry."
"You wanna take a break?" I offered, hoping he'd accept, and to my delight, his eyes lit with gratitude.
"Really? We can do that?"
"Yeah, sure, let's take a breather." I rolled backward to the trashcan and pulled my gloves off as Ryan sat up.
"I didn't think it'd hurt so much," he admitted, grimacing.
"Anything right over bone can be pretty tough," I informed him, brushing my annoyance away with sympathy and understanding.
"I feel like a wuss."
I stood up and clipped my knuckles against his shoulder. "Nah, you're fine. Give yourself a few minutes and we'll get going again."
I left him at my station and went up to the desk to find Celia. She had her nose in a takeout menu from Bonchon Chicken, refusing to look up when I approached.
"Cee," I coaxed, tapping my fingers on the countertop.
"Go away, Blake. You're being a whiny bitch today and I don't wanna deal with your shit."
I chuckled lightly. "I deserve that."
"Oh, good. I'm glad you know you're being an asshole. That makes me feel so much better."
I folded my arms and peered over the counter's ledge at her. "I'm sorry. I had a shitty session with my therapist this morning, and—" I caught myself and stopped talking. I'd never admitted to my therapy before and nobody knew. Celia made that evident by the shocked expression she revealed as she glanced up at me.
"Wait, you're in therapy?"
"Uh, yeah ..." Uncertainty coated my voice and I scrubbed a hand through my hair.
"Why didn't I know this?"
I shrugged. "I don't know ... I guess it just never came up."
"How long have you been going?"
"Um, a couple years."
"A couple years?" She dropped the menu and gawked at me. "I mean, it's none of my business, but how have you been seeing a therapist for years without telling me?"
I laughed tightly through my shame and humiliation. "It's really not a big deal, Cee."
"No, it's not, but ... I don't know. It's just weird you've never mentioned it. I'm like your best friend."
I cocked my head at the declaration. My best friend? Celia and I had been working together for years, developing a strange relationship based on craft, casual conversation, and the rare occurrence of sex. She was one of the few people to know Jake, to know my moods, to know me. Yet, I had never thought of her as my best friend before. Maybe I’d never thought that I deserved a best friend. Maybe I never thought I could have one, with my world being the way it was. But turns out, it had happened anyway, and it was fine.
You're fine.
So are you.
"Sorry," I said again, unsure why.
"It's okay," she brushed it off. "Anyway, you want chicken? I'm in the mood for Bonchon."
"Bonchon's good," I agreed.
"Cool. You want your usual? I'll pick it up while you finish up in there."
"That works for me." I reached over the counter and ruffled her dreadlocks. "Thanks, Cee."
"You're welcome," she mumbled, and I headed back to work, feeling just a bit happier and lighter.
I have a best friend.
***
"Blake, Blake," my brother ran down the stairs from his bedroom in a hurry, clutching a Blu-ray disc in his hand. I turned from opening the front door to give him my attention.
"What's up, buddy?"
"It won't play. I keep putting it in and it won't play. You gotta fix it, Blake. Fix it."
"Okay, let me see."
He thrust the disc into my hand and I didn't need to look closely to see hundreds of tiny scratches etched into its surface. It was his favorite movie, Gremlins, and I knew he'd have a fit if I told him it was broken. "You know what, Jake? I think I'm gonna need to fix this tomorrow, okay? It's gonna take too long right now and I gotta get home.”
He eyed me with worry and a dash of panic. "But you're gonna