“Fine,” Rush confirms. “Work on the left foot’s lift off. It’s slower than the right.”
“Okay.”
I’m fine thanks for asking.
“Mia, I’m just looking out for you.”
“I don’t need you to look out for me. Some days my knee hurts and some days it doesn’t. I’m a physical therapist. I know what I’m doing.”
Tiger is across the field talking to another player. He’s standing with a pair of crutches in his hand, which he foraged for me from somewhere in the training center in record time. He lifts one in the air to show me he has them, and I wave back and smile.
At the same time, a stray football comes flying in our direction from mid field and before either of us can react the ball hits Rush in exactly the same place he was injured a few weeks ago.
“Fuck!”
His hand immediately holds the side of his face and I do my best to hold in a laugh, but it’s no use. The guffaw explodes from deep inside of my belly. The back-up quarterback who threw the ball calls out an apology to Rush.
“Are you ok?” I ask through tears of laughter streaming down my face.
“I see that my pain has moved you to tears.”
“I’m sorry,” I say as I try to settle myself down. “It’s just that you’re so worried about what’s going on with me you didn’t notice that there was a ball headed straight for you. I mean, you literally had to be bonked on the head to be reminded to mind your own damn business. If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.”
I hold my hand over my mouth after that to stop any runaway giggles. Then Rush does the most beautiful thing. He laughs too. It’s a deep, boisterous sound that comes deep from within his gut and one of my most favorite sounds in the world.
He picks up the stray ball and throws it back midfield, then walks closer to me and places a hand on my shoulder. I internally stiffen from the contact, not because I mind it, but because it’s unexpected. We’re outside and exposed for anyone to see, and I’m usually the touchy-feely one in our friendship, not Rush.
“I’m sorry, Bird.”
“Me too.”
“I don’t want you to think that I don’t want you here. I do. It’s just going to take a little more getting used to than I thought.”
“Okay.”
Rush runs his hand through his hair in what I know is a tactic to silence himself, so he says nothing more. It’s a bad habit. He should express himself more, but we’re all works in progress–even someone as wonderful as Rush.
“Friends argue,” I assure him. “Let’s forget about it.”
He checks the time on his sports watch.
“We have little time left for dinner break, but how about we hang for a little while at my place tonight.”
“Okay.”
“What do you want to do? A movie?”
“Let’s do yoga tonight!”
I’ve been influential in getting Rush to take up yoga for the last few years. It helps athletes so much with their flexibility and strength, and Rush will try almost anything that will give him an edge over his opponents.
“Cool, we haven’t done that together in a while.”
Once Tiger approaches, he hands me my new crutches and watches both of us with a curious look.
“Here you go, Mia.”
“Thank you so much.”
