Calm, Cool, and Adjusted (5 page)

“Get on the table,” I order, having had enough of his weekly antics. He’s all bark.

He lies down on his stomach, and I use my hands to feel down his spine while he moans—whether in pain or ecstasy, I never ask. It’s not the kind of thing I want to know. I stop at C5 and C6. “I don’t know what you do to yourself on that golf course, but—”

His voice is muffled. “When I’m giving Tiger lessons, he always says great golf costs the master something. The perfect swing requires all of the athlete, and my back pays the price. You ought to be thankful for me; I keep you in business.”

“I suppose that’s Tiger Woods,” I say.

“No, it’s Tiger Hernandez. We play once in a while.”

While he’s giving me his bravado, I adjust his back with a loud crack before he knows what’s hit him and he grunts. I don’t usually apply such force, but Simon’s back seems to require it.

“This guy giving you trouble?” My father comes out of my office, and I cringe. It’s like fighting for the training bra with the pink flower all over again. I lower my eyebrows menacingly, hoping to send Daddy a silent message—
I can take care of myself
—but as is expected, he ignores me completely. “That’s my daughter you’re talking to. You mind yourself. Don’t let her size fool you; she could take you down easily enough.”

This makes Simon grin. “I have no doubt she could. Did you hear what she just did to my back? And I’m paying for this torture.”

“I’m fine, Dad. Just a little harmless banter between a favorite client and myself.”

Simon turns over and gives me a smirk. His eyes meet mine in mutual understanding, and for a small instant I forget my father is standing here.

“You’re standing up for me. I knew you loved me, Dr. Poppy. What must it be like for you to look at me every week, unable to act on your feelings from a professional obligation? Give into temptation, sweetie. Do it now before it’s too late.” He reaches out, and I have to physically stand in front of my father.

“He’s kidding, Dad.” I turn towards Simon. “You’ll never understand my pain, Simon. Every week you come in here, and I see . . . I see a spine I just have to crack.” I say this while wrestling Daddy back in the office. Daddy finally calms down and backs away, but not without punching his own palm in warning. Just like the gorilla at the zoo. I can almost hear the accompanying “Ooo-ooo.” And Simon looks like a linebacker while my father is shaped and dressed like an older model in a catalog (one of those for timeshares in exotic locales). I’m sure Daddy is thinking this man is a slacker of the worst sort, completely unaware Simon could probably buy and sell all of us a few times over. Then play a round of golf before the day is up.

“So this is your father?” Simon stands up and stretches a palm out towards my father, but Daddy just purses his lips, which doesn’t stop Simon at all. He steps forward. “I didn’t mean any disrespect, Mr. Clayton. Poppy and I go way back. She knows how to shut me down if she wants.”

My father grunts a reply, still not completely satisfied.

“She is a little cruel. She has all that beauty in that tiny, stunning package of hers, and she never lets a soul open the gift.”

“No one had better try!” My father threatens.

“Trust me,” Simon continues. “Everyone tries. But you have nothing to worry about.” Simon sets his hand on my shoulder and turns to the door beside my office for his sports massage from Brian the mighty. He wasn’t really finished with my session, but I imagine he’s done enough since my father isn’t leaving. As Simon goes, he looks straight into my father’s eyes. “It’s a pity too.” Then his gaze meets my own. “Because I could give her everything.”

At his exit, my father’s face is bright red. “That’s what you put up with? Paying you to adjust a guy’s back does not entitle him to treat you like a piece of meat. Maybe I need to be here every day, Poppy. You always were too trusting. You can’t handle men like that. It’s not your job to fix everyone, you know?”

I handle men like that every day of the week.

“He’s harmless, Dad. I promise. He’s been here for three years, and he’s one of my best patients. Besides, he needs me. His back is a wreck. We’re friends and hopefully when he comes in here, he gets the courage to go out into the world and really ask a woman out. I’m empowering him to change his life—both his spine and his confidence.”

“He doesn’t seem to need any more confidence. He’s already got enough for the three of us. I imagine he’s got a few women too. He doesn’t seem the type to be lonely.”

My father’s comment unnerves me. I don’t think Simon is like that at all, but I’ll admit I follow him with my eyes wondering if my father’s sixth sense has picked up on something I’ve missed all these years. My father is typically nice to everyone. His actions over Simon seem oddly out of character, and it makes me wonder what Daddy is really doing here.

“He’s too friendly if you ask me. You running a chiropractic office or a dating service? Flirting is not part of what you offer, I’m assuming.”

“Daddy, what’s gotten into you? I don’t flirt with everyone, I promise. Simon is special.”

“I heard that!” Simon calls from the massage therapist’s office.

“It seems like my presence might be necessary here.”

“Like I said, it’s hard enough for me to get the male clientele, Dad. I don’t need you scaring them off like seagulls at the beach.”

“You’re too pretty to be in here by yourself. This is what you avoided med school for?” He shakes his head and looks at his feet. It’s not that he’s upset I avoided med school. He only wants me to be happy, but I don’t think he was ever too keen on the natural route after Sharon came along. If given the choice of a small roaster or Starbucks, my father would choose Starbucks every time. And medical school is the corporate version of health: there’s no getting around it. Corporate is comfortable to my dad now. Maybe he got tired of choosing the hard way with my mother, who ground all our grains and grew vegetables. Maybe he just saw how much easier life is on the “outside.”

“Brian’s right next door, Dad. He does all the massages, and he has a black belt if I ever need him. Jeff, the plastic surgeon, is on the other side of me, and he’s here as much as I am. So I’m safe, okay? Besides, I really could take someone out if I had to. My own version of the Vulcan death grip that I learned in chiropractic school.”

My dad nods. “Poppy, are you happy with this life?”

“I love my life, Dad. I get to run every day, train for my triathlons. I get to go away when I want with the Spa Girls and relax. I’ve got everything I could want here.”

“Now Poppy, you know I’m not one to pry or interfere.”

“Yes, Dad, I do know that.”
So enough already.

“When you decided to drop out of medical school, did I ever question you?”

“I didn’t actually drop out, Dad, just didn’t go.”

“But did I question you?” His voice turns solemn. “And you were accepted to medical school.”

“No, Dad, you didn’t question me, but it’s not like I became a burden to you or anything. My priorities just changed. All the things Mom taught me made sense, and had she stuck with that lifestyle . . . Well, you know.”

“There is no easy way to say this, honey, so I’m just going to come right out and say it.”

Can those words ever be followed by something good? I know this is not something I want to hear. “I have patients, Dad. They have to get back to work. Could we put off this sermon until later?” I point towards the door, which he slams shut, locking us in the office.

“Sharon and I have been talking.”

Which means he’s been doing a lot of listening. “And? What did Sharon decide I should do with my life?”

“We think if you’re going to continue to live this alternative lifestyle—”

“I’m a chiropractor. I’m not gay, Daddy.”

“We think you should move your practice back to Santa Cruz, where you’ll be more comfortable.” He scans my skirt and looks away. “Poppy, you were always happy there by the beach, and we want to know you’ll be happy when we’re settling into retirement.”

“I like it here, Dad. I don’t actually care what people think, or if I’m seen as a weirdo. I’m sort of proud of it. I was pegged early on at Stanford as missing the route to Berkeley.” I bite down my smile. “So please don’t worry about me.”

“The truth is, Poppy, we’re downsizing, Sharon and I. We don’t spend much time in the house, and we’ve discussed it. We think it’s time you got your inheritance. Your mother left you that house, and we feel we’ve freeloaded long enough. In other words, we’re becoming grown-ups.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“We’re retiring from the rat race. We’ve rented a little place near Phoenix and we’re leaving California. Well, actually we’ve left. But we’re moving out slowly. However, the house is empty and while there’s a lot of work to be done, the equity on the house should pay for it easily.”

“Phoenix? Dad, it’s too hot in Phoenix. You’re used to the beach, the marine layer, fog, gentle ocean breezes . . . What are you thinking?”

“I’m getting older, Poppy. It’s hard for me to manage the lawn and the constant upkeep that living in the salt air requires. The moist air gets into my joints and it’s just better for me in Arizona.”

“What makes you think I can manage the house?”

He smiles gently. “You can always sell it.”

“I can’t sell it and you know it.”

“Then maybe it’s time you find out why. You never came to visit Sharon and me while we lived there. If it really means something to you, find out why.”

“I’m not moving back there.”

“That’s fine, but it’s your responsibility now. Your mother and I were to sign this house over to you when you turned thirty, and that’s about to happen. It was a decision we made a long time ago, and I’ve lived out my part of the deal. Now it’s your turn.”

“It doesn’t mean we have to do anything different, Dad. I don’t need that house. You and Sharon can stay there.” I struggle to find the right words. Anything to keep that house and its legacy far from my grasp.

He pulls out a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket. “It belongs to you. I’ve done everything legally to make it yours. Actually, I did it a long time ago.” He looks down again. “All the necessary legal issues. If you want to get rid of it, it’s your business now.”

I shove the paper back at him. “Well, I’m not taking it. I have my own business to run. I can’t be worrying about retrofitting a house, and I know it’s not in the best shape.”

“Then you’ll have to sign it away legally. Sell it ‘as is.’ It’s still worth quite a bit of money.” He shrugs, giving me that innocent twinkle that I imagine gets him out of trouble with Sharon. “There’s nothing I can do about it now. Sell it.”

“I can’t do that, Dad. It was Mom’s house.”

“It’s yours now, Poppy.”

“I can’t live in that house again.” Even the thought of it sends shivers up my spine.

“Sell it, sweetie. It’s time to move on. Either that, or move back there and embrace it. One way or another, you’ve got to face it.”

I just shake my head. I can’t even avoid her skirts in the closet. I’m just supposed to up and sell her memory, her essence?

“Anyway.” Dad claps his hands together. “That’s why I came by. I needed to tell you it’s officially yours.”

Yippee.

“I have the condo. You and Sharon sell it.” I try to place the title back in his hands. And all the work the decrepit building needs. I don’t mind really being without the house; I just don’t want to be the one to dispose of it.

Daddy just shakes his head. “I made a deal with your mother a long time ago. If you don’t want the house, like I said, sell it.” He pulls his jacket down, smoothing the lapels. “I’ll get out of your way until dinner.”

“We’re not through.”

Emma steps into the room, noticing our heated tones. She appears very apologetic. “Your patients are backing up.”

“We’re not done, Dad.” I say again. I step into the examination room and see Dr. Jeff Curran, my beloved plastic surgeon neighbor, sitting on my table. “Oh,” I hear myself groan. “What do you want?”

“I just came by to thank you. You moved your car,” he says in a low tone.

“Yeah,” I draw my hair behind my ear—in an annoyed way, not trying to be cute or anything. “Don’t think too much of it. I did it for the good of your business. Your success and my freedom from silicone next door.” He gives Silicon Valley a new meaning for me.

“Thank you anyway.” He stands up and I’ll admit I flinch a bit as he does so. Even though he’s exceptionally clean-cut with extraordinarily white teeth, he really is actor handsome. I’m sure he has some sort of ab builder by the mirror at home. Looking at him is like a car accident: he’s drop-dead gorgeous, and even though you know better . . . Well, I
am
human.

Emma clears her throat. “The patients are waiting, Poppy.”

“Right.” I break my gaze from Jeff’s. His eyes are blue. Sort of a grayish-green blue like the ocean on a foggy day. Not that I noticed. They’re just so natural looking and they don’t go with the whole plastic persona. “So thanks for telling me. Thanks.”
Yeah, I just said that.

“You’re welcome.” Before he has a chance to leave, my father comes out of the office, and their eyes meet in the strangest way. Perhaps it’s the doctor coat and my father has stars in his eyes. Somewhere in the annals of history it was decreed that parents should think doctors make good husbands. Quite frankly, I think they make horrible husbands from what I’ve seen—always working, their minds preoccupied when they’re home. And then there’s the whole bringing-home-viruses-to-the-children aspect. You’re much better off with a professor, I would think. Oh, maybe not. They probably think they’re as interesting to you as they are to their students. It’s the whole clueless aspect.

An electrician. That’s a good husband job.

“Poppy, you all right?”

“Huh? Yeah. Just daydreaming.”

Simon steps out of Brian’s office, and he looks at Jeff as though he’s met the opponent.

“I’ll pick you up at six-thirty,” Dad says. “You’re going to eat a decent meal. Nothing with tofu in it, all right?”

I feel my head bobbing. “Great. Six-thirty. I’ll be ready.”