her come in and I traced her movements across the carpet. She was standing in front of me now.
“John are you sick?”
I started to shake my head, but that hurt too much.
“Headache…… Bad one…… The pills aren’t working.” I said softly in a cryptic fashion, as it hurt even to talk.
Sometimes I thought it would be best to just put a bullet in my brain then continue on dealing with this handicap. No one would miss me anyway. My eyes were glued shut, as the light only made the pain worse. This was a bad one.
Her cool hand touched my sweaty forehead and then it was gone. She could so do me in right now. Anybody could. I was so helpless a kitten could’ve scratched me to death. I hated this helplessness!
I heard her pick up the bottle of pills. “John there’s stuff in these pills that going to eat your liver and kidneys up!”
“Like you care!” I whispered back in sarcasm.
“I do care!”
“Since when?”
“Since I made it my business to care for you John.”
I heard the bottle of pills set down and then she was kneeling down in front of me. What was she doing?
I cracked one eye open, but the light seared my eyeball and I reclosed it quickly. She picked my slack hand up and then her fingers began to press and move on it. It wasn’t just a hand massage. She was doing something else in the pr ocess of the massage.
“What’s this called?” I asked curious.
“Reflexology.”
“And you know how to do this how?”
“My father had a lot of health problems, when he got older. I tried to help him out as best as I could.”
That fit with everything I knew about her. She was the type of person always willing to help someone else. She was helping me of all people!
My eyelids cracked open less painfully and I glanced down and saw her wrists. “I’m sorry!”
She glanced up from my hand, “For what?”
I touched the black and blue discoloration of one wrist.
She shrugged, “They’ll fade.”
This woman amazed me. I’d never met anyone like her, but that wasn’t entirely true. There was someone she reminded me of. She’d switched to my other hand at some point.
“You take all this religious stuff seriously don’t you?”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I believe my Lord for what He’s done in my life, even as I am a witness to His continued working.”
“You’re just like my brother.” I muttered out disgustedly. “I suppose you’re going to try to save me from all my wic ked evil ways?” I added.
“Yes.” She responded without any hesitation.
Time went by; as I felt the headache gradually release its hold on me.
She spoke into the silence, “I don’t think you’re evil. Perhaps wicked, but then we’re all guilty of that.”
“I have a hard time thinking of you as being wicked; you’re such a little saint!” I said truthfully.
“Does that bother you?”
“I’m getting used to it.” I said again truthfully.
Her hands left off the relaxing massage of my hands and I almost groaned in despair at the absence of her healing touch. My eyes flew open, as I felt her unlacing my boot.
“You don’t have to do that!” I said, even as I wished that she would.
Her eyes had a soft intrinsic quality to them, “Sit back and let me care for you.”
I shook my head, “Why are you doing this for me?”
“Because I want to.”
“But why?”
She looked at me earnestly, as if seeking for the right words, “Because you’re my man now and I like taking away your pain.”
She looked back down at my foot, as her fingers began what they had done to my hands. What was wrong with her? Who did things like this for someone else? Who forgave like this?
She was close to perfection in a way I’d never thought possible and I totally didn’t deserve her or her attention. My hands gripped into fists at a sudden truth. She deserved a far better man than me, but I was never going to let her go!
Asia let her hands go about the