I don’t know what I’d do without my job. It wasn’t only about paying bills—although God knows there was that. It was about turning the key in the front door, switching on the lights, making sure we had fresh towels and were stocked with oils. Each little task took me out of myself and helped me connect to the world around me. I was sure of my skills as a massage therapist and proud of what I could do to help people disentangle the knots of their own lives. I needed that more than ever today, as I tried to disengage from the anxiety that hadn’t gone away from last night. One minute I was listening to music with Kael and the next I was being interviewed by aggressive military police.

Mali understood why I was late. She had urged me to take the day off when I called to tell her what had happened, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. Kael didn’t stay over at my house after all. He didn’t even come inside. He woke me up, walked me to the porch, and touched his hand to the top of my arm as his good night. We were back to just friends now that the moon was replaced by the sun.

He texted me that he had discharge appointments on post all day, and I guessed that meant he was getting closer and closer to his release from the Army. He asked if I had to work today and I told him yes, until late afternoon. He didn’t ask what I was doing after work, so I didn’t volunteer any more information. I was trying to keep things cool even though I truly hated being away from him. I was already embarrassed from having called him while I walked to work. He didn’t pick up, of course, and I left a nervous voicemail that I tried to delete but pressed the wrong button and sent it. I also couldn’t stop constantly checking my phone between clients and even once during a treatment for his answer. I took a few extra seconds after covering the client’s eyes with a warm towel. And finally, halfway through my shift, I got a text from Kael—very brief and wanting to know if I had plans for dinner.