shoulder for support.
“I’m fine,” he says, smiling down at me, though he’s trying not to wince.
“You’re not fine. You should be using the crutches,” I tell him, pressing my hand into his very warm, firm chest.
“You’re my crutch then,” he says as I lead him over to the table.
I lower it down so it’s easy for him to get on and lie down, then I move down toward his leg, rolling his shorts up his thigh.
“Okay, I’m going to take off the brace,” I warn him. “It might feel weird without that pressure around it.”
I undo the brace and let it drop open.
I try not to gasp, but I want to because his knee looks like a mess. It’s back in the right spot, thank god, but it’s bruised and swollen and ugly.
“Mierda,” he swears, and I glance up at him. He’s staring at his knee in horror. “It doesn’t feel as bad as it looks.”
“Well, that’s good,” I tell him. “This massage will help drain it, move that inflammation out of there where it’s gathered. That’s all we’ll do for today. Start you off slow. You’ve been through a lot.”
I get a bit of coconut oil out of the jar and start to gently massage his upper thigh so that it will relax the muscles around the patella. “Does this feel okay?” I ask.
“Sí, sí, sí,” he says quickly, his eyes closed as he rests his head on the table.
A silence comes over us as I concentrate on his leg and eventually make my way to the knee, massaging up in a J-like motion.
Alejo hisses, his features contorted.
“Sorry,” I say, letting my hands fall away. “Too rough?”
“Normally I like it rough,” he says through gritted teeth. He opens his eyes to look at me and gives me a strained smile. “But right now, perhaps a gentle touch.”
I skirt over the innuendo, even though I’m secretly glad to hear it. Means that he’s feeling well enough to joke.
I mean, these are just jokes, right?
“Tell me if the pressure is too much.”
I continue to work at it, my touch light.
“Did you see me score?” he asks after a few minutes go by.
“Of course. It was a beautiful goal.”
He laughs. “It was an ugly goal. A scrappy goal.”
“But a scrappy goal is still a goal.”
“Sí, sí,” he says. “And I know if I don’t make the scrappy goals, I won’t make any. You take the shots at all costs.”
“Kind of sounds like a life motto.”
“Sí. Absolutely. We’ve both taken all the shots at all the costs.”
I pause for a moment before I begin again. “You say that about me like you know it.”
“Claro,” he says, glancing at me briefly. “Of course you have. You are here. You don’t end up here without a lot of risk.”
I shrug lightly. “I guess so.”
“Then again, I don’t know anything about you. Perhaps you’d care to enlighten me.”
I give him a quick smile. “You want to know about the skeletons in my closet?”
He frowns and gives me a funny look. “You have skeletons in your closet? Are you serious?”
I let out a small laugh. “Not literally, silly.”
“Bobo.”
“What?”
“Bobo is Spanish for silly. It’s a silly word, no? So now you know more Spanish. You might even know a sentence.”
I’m already smiling because I can answer him back. “Claro, bobo.”
He grins at me, and the pain and fatigue on his tanned face seems to melt away.
It’s a smile that has that same effect on me.
I’m melting inside.
Just a little.
Just enough.
“You’ve got it,” he says. “So back to these ghosts. No ghosts. Just a saying?”
“It’s skeletons,” I tell him. My voice sounds tiny, maybe because my heart is going fast and my stomach is doing backflips. I need to get my body back under control ASAP. I clear my throat, focus on the massage. “It means that you have something to hide in your past.”
“And do you? Have something to hide?”
Nothing that he would understand.
“No,” I tell him. “That doesn’t mean life has been easy.”
“Sí, but that’s the same for everyone. No one has it easy, even those that pretend or seem like they do.” He tilts his head as he studies me. I can feel his intense gaze on my face, scrutinizing me.
“You have something, though,” he says. “I would like to know more about it.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Something you keep close to your chest. Something that makes you sad.”
I can feel my throat getting thick. “Well,” I say, exhaling slowly. “I did just go through