“Why do you say yes to everything?” asked Helen, peering backward into the bathroom mirror. Her back looked as if she had been attacked by giant leeches. Like she’d been running for her life and they fell upon her, attaching their suckers to her spine, her shoulder blades, leaving large, perfectly circular hickeys. And she had just lain there face down, as if paralyzed, and let it happen. That part of it was true, actually.
Ernestine had told her that cupping was her new thing. She had been reading up on it, she said, and Helen’s body and its particular needs had popped into her mind. Helen couldn’t help it—she liked hearing about popping into Ernestine’s mind. It made her feel cared for. That was the reason Helen had transitioned from taking Ernestine’s yoga class Saturday mornings to coming in Wednesdays as well for a bodywork practice called redirective therapy. Ernestine said, one Saturday, as Helen unrolled her mat, “You know, I have been thinking about that wonky shoulder of yours. Make an appointment—I might have a trick that can help.” Helen, who had a chronic hip thing but hadn’t even known about the wonky shoulder, said yes.
