
Your wife booked her. Your wife pays her. Three afternoons a week she lets herself into your living room, kneels down beside your leg, and takes your knee to the place where it stops. She counts out loud. She watches your face while she counts. She does not finish early. She has never once asked how you feel about any of it, and somewhere around week three that became the part of the week you wait for. She smiles the whole time. The same smile at hello and at rep eight. You have started wondering what is behind it, and you have five weeks left to find out.