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We started with some basic stretches to warm up the muscles around his rotator cuff, careful to not exacerbate his injury.
"How does that feel?" I asked during one stretch.
"Good. Ah…really good."
I talked through every step with him.
"Many people just move in the wrong way all the time, which causes injuries. So, let's work on some of the things you do, like getting up on a horse or…I don't know. What do you do around the ranch?" I asked.
Eddie, Huey, and Clay laughed.
"Girlie, you're somethin' else," Eddie said.
Once I understood how he used his body in the ranch, I gave him tips on how to manage his shoulder so he could do his job without hurting himself further.
"Now, let's do some exercises that will strengthen your muscles without overloading them."
As we progressed, I monitored his expressions closely, gauging his comfort level and adjusting the exercises accordingly to ensure they were effective but not overwhelming.
Through it all, Clay remained a willing, albeit cautious, participant, his initial skepticism slowly giving way to a cautious optimism as he saw physiotherapy not just as a series of exercises, but as a pathway to healing.
"Fuck me, my shoulder actually feels better than it has in months," Clay said as he moved his head from side to side and lifted his shoulder.
"Careful, okay," I warned. "Now, I'm just going to massage the area." I looked around the bunkhouse and walked up to the kitchen area. I found a bottle of olive oil and brought it back to the table.
"You cookin' something now, Isha?" Huey wanted to know.
"Just need some oil to massage."
"I need a massage, too," Huey immediately said. "I can take my shirt off anytime you want."
Eddie gave out a hoot of laughter.
"Keep your pants on, Huey," Clay muttered. "I, here, have an injury."
"I can go get hurt," Huey offered.
The ribbing didn't feel uncomfortable. My danger alarms were not going off. This was how they made someone feel like one of them, I realized.
"Afraid I'm not interested." I poured some oil into my right palm and heated it between my hands. I placed my hands on Clay's shoulder, and he groaned when I kneaded.
"Oh God, can you come do that every day for me?"
"If I'm here, I can do this if you do all your exercises," I cajoled.
I was gently breaking the knots on his shoulder when Rowan walked into the bunkhouse.
"What the fuck is goin' on here?" he demanded, staring at Clay's state of undress and my hands on him.
I wanted to run because of the fire in his eyes, but I held my ground.
"So, remember what we talked about when you pick up something?" I pressed harder, and Clay winced.
"Right there, that's what you want to avoid."
Huey and Eddie walked out of the bunkhouse while Clay seemed unperturbed by his boss's anger.
"Isha, here is doing some physical therapy on my shoulder, boss."
