Few can say they're in love with with a Greek god.
For Adeline, telling Apollo she loves him is out of the question. She's always preferred to run from her feelings, run from him.
But when he shows up on her doorstep years later, seemingly running...
"This isn't your first time. I don't understand why you're so squeamish about this. This is only round one."
"Good fucking God, don't do that!"
I blink back the tears in my eyes as Jenna finally gives me a reprieve and says, "You should see some of the white boys. They can't even handle a little pain."
I look at the cushioned bench that she's put me on and wonder how many others have suffered like me on this very bench. The smell of incense is the only thing that relaxes me slightly and I resist the urge to just run out of this chiropractor's appointment.
"I'm not white or a boy and I can't handle getting a rock pressed into my back," I say in response to the somewhat racist comment.
She snorts. "You should see Matthew Johnson. I've never heard a boy scream so loud. Get ready. We're starting again"
"Like the NBA player?" I ask as I grit my teeth from the feeling that she's picking apart the muscles in my back. She started with her knuckles, but deeming the knots on my back too stiff for that, she brought out the rock. Jenna's skill is unparalleled - her treatments have made sprained ankles go away - but she doesn't stop for anything.
I honestly don't know what brought me back here after so long. Maybe it's because, deep down, I feel like I deserve the pain.
I deserve it for being too weak to bite the bullet and tell Phoebus to leave even when it's obvious that I should.
"Yes, that one. He's almost as bad as you." She shows no mercy after I cry out in pain. I don't know how Jenna always knows where to push it in so that it hurts the most. It's some kind of gift. Maybe she's secretly the goddess of pain.
"Have you - Jesus - every thought of nice - Christ - relaxing massages?"
"Good heavens, no. I went into this field because I wanted to make people suffer. By the way, your stepmother dropped by. She wanted to know where you are."
What could she possibly want? To remind me that I'm an ungrateful waste of space and that I don't thank her enough for the fact that she's given me food and a bed?
"I hope you - ah - didn't tell her," I say, gasping in pain midway through my remark. At least I can blame the tears leaking from my eyes on the rock pressing into my back.
She laughs and I don't know whether it's from my words or the groans of pain I'm making. "Of course. I told her to," and here, she says something in Indonesian whose meaning can probably be inferred. "I didn't want to lose your business."
My body twists in pain after a particularly hard push and I'm unable to gasp out a snarky reply.
"I think we should stop for the day. Any more, and I think you might pass out. But don't forget to come back next week. We need to realign your spine. And you need to correct your posture."
I nod, knowing that my sitting posture is probably never going to change. It's far too ingrained in me.
I used to have great posture. But then Greysia started to scream at me to straighten up and that's when I started to slump. It was a small act of defiance, but it enraged her enough to bring me a little satisfaction.
"And Adeline?" she says to me just as I turn to leave. "Try to smile more. You look much less tortured when you smile."
Ironic, considering what she's been doing to be for the past hour.
"You need to be happy to smile," I point out.
"Then find ways to be happy."
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