Page 16 of Whatever It Takes
I clenched my jaw, ignoring the pain shooting through my knee as I continued walking on the treadmill. Beads of sweat rolled down my face. I could feel my knee slightly buckling, but I had to push through these last 30 seconds.
“You’re overdoing it, Saint. If you’re in pain, we can stop and take a break,” Blessing said firmly, standing beside me.
“I’m fine.” I insisted, my voice low and sharp. I could feel myself getting annoyed.
She leaned forward, shut the machine off, and handed me a bottle of water. “You’re not fine. If you overwork that knee, you’ll set yourself back and have to start over again. You remember what happened last time? Come sit down.” Blessing said. I twisted the cap off the water, chugging it until it was almost gone.
“I’m okay, Blessing. It was just a little pain.” I said, sitting down on the bench. I watched as Blessing walked over to thecamera to turn it off. We’d been recording this past month, and my team was going to edit the footage after our last session of the week. I licked my lips, taking in her appearance. Today, she was wearing an olive-green scrub set that looked painted onto her skin.
“Still, next time just let me know. We can’t take ten steps forward just to take ten steps back. I’m proud of your progress. You’re off the crutches, and soon you’ll be out of that brace.”
“Thank you. I like your scrubs today. You look good in my favorite color.”
“Well, thank you, Moo. They aren’t too tight, are they? I don’t need the wicked witch trippin’ on me again.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Wicked witch, huh? Why you let her bother you?”
“I don’t. She’s the bothered one. She damn near called me fat. What, she thinks I want you or something?
I opened my legs, pulling her between them. “You don’t?” I challenged.
“Boy, please. I’m your physical therapist.” She rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips.
“Whatever, Blessing. You coming to the Thanksgiving game?”
“Yeah, Coach Charles gave me a few tickets. I’ll be in one of the suites.”
“Why that nigga giving you free tickets?”
“He always gives me free tickets. Your teammates are my top clients.”
“Yeah, alright. I know that nigga likes his women young and turnt.”
She laughed, mushing my head. “Moo, don’t nobody want your old ass coach.” Her eyes traveled from my face to my chest. They stopped at the scar in the middle of my chest. “What happened here?”
“That’s where my port was.”
“You had cancer?”
I ran my hand across my head, sighing. “Yeah, childhood leukemia. I got it when I was 6, beat it at 11. I don’t really talk about it, though.”
“Oh wow, I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m glad you beat it, though. Look how far you’ve come.” She said, brushing her hand across my arm. Her touch gave me goosebumps. It felt familiar, like it was supposed to be there.
“Thank you, Bless. That shit was tough, but I’m alive. That’s why I celebrate every win—even the smallest ones. When I got injured, I was taking it so hard until I remembered what I went through. If I can beat cancer, I can heal from this injury and get my ass back on the field.”
“Exactly. Look how fast you’re healing! If you continue to make progress, you might be able to run by the time Christmas comes around. Continue using that cream every day as well. I’ll have another jar for you next week.”
“You really make that cream at home? You ain’t buying it from somebody and claiming it as yours, are you?”
She smacked her lips, folding her arms across her chest. “Nigga, that’s a family recipe. My great-great-great-grandma made that formula. It’s been in our family for years. We use it for everything. Cuts, burns, scars, bruises, anything that needs healing.”
“Y’all witches or something?”
She shook her head. “Nope. You go get showered and get some rest, Moo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Wait,” I stood up and grabbed her hand. “I’m having a game night Saturday. Just me and a few homeboys and their ladies. You can bring your homegirls.”
“If I have a babysitter, we’ll come through.”
