Was it only the night before that we sat together, side by side on my childhood bed, with alcohol washing over our thoughts and tongues? I started to think about Mendoza, wondering if he was okay. He hadn’t been gone very long when Kael got the phone call.
“That feels so good,” Kael said to me when I bent his wrists, pressing against the sides, slightly pulling at the same time.
“I just learned it,” I told him.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I saw a YouTube video and tried it on myself first. It felt great. Especially for people who use their hands a lot.”
“Wait, you learned it on YouTube?” he asked me, lifting his head a little. I gently pressed my palm against his forehead to lay him back down.
“Yes. It’s helpful.” I was proud of myself for mastering a new technique. The internet was usually a flaming dumpster ofyou never know what you will get, but welcome to the party!
“You’re such a millennial.”
“So are you.” I positioned his arm back at his side and moved around the table to the other.
“Technically, I think we’re Gen Z.”
“Ew, no one actually says ‘Gen Z’ out loud.” I rolled my eyes back.
“At least tell me you have an actual license and didn’t learn everything on YouTube?”
“Of course I have a license. And you should let me finish my job, your time is almost up.” I moved to the top of the table and applied gentle pressure to his closely shaved scalp. As I grasped his ears to release tension, his lips parted and he breathed deeply. I ended every treatment this way, and I was usually glad to be wrapping up. But now I wished for more time. With him. Just like last night . . .
“All done. Happy birthday, by the way.”
“Thanks. It’s just another day for me.”
Kael swung his long, muscular legs off the side of the table. The stoic soldier had returned. He paid, tipped well, and left without another word.