I thought about all of this while Stewart lay on my table. I was glad she could open up to me, that she could unburden herself by talking and releasing a bit of her background noise. I knew better than most that it wasn’t only the physical aspect of massage therapy that reduced stress, that helped a body come alive and quieted the mind.

It was almost poetry the way Stewart talked about her life. I felt every word when she spoke. She connected me to each experience, and when she told me about the things she had been through and what she had learned, she opened me up to a different perspective. She talked a lot about how, in the United States, fewer than 8 percent of Americans had ever served in the military. That included all the branches—every veteran who enlisted, even for one term. Out of more than three hundred twenty million people, fewer than 8 percent! It was hard for me to realize that fact, given the way I grew up, moving from post to post, trying to make new friends, trying to adapt to strangers every few years.

It seemed impossible to me, that small a number. From my great-grandfather to my dad, and my uncles and cousins who were scattered across the country (except that loser uncle my brother was living with), everyone around me wore a uniform or lived with someone who did. The world had never felt so big until Stewart and her statistics. I knew that, as of now, only 1 percent of Americans were actively in the military. I hoped I could someday live among the other 99 percent.

She talked a lot during our sessions, like Tina. But unlike Tina, Stewart didn’t expect me to share. I could lose myself in her experiences, many of which forced me to bite back my tears. Maybe that’s why her sessions went by fast.

CHAPTER NINE

The water came back on right after Stewart left. I washed the sheets and towels in the few minutes I had between appointments.

Elodie managed to be busy with a client each time I finished with mine. I was dying to ask her how she knew that soldier with the strange name and quiet presence, but we kept missing each other. I usually stayed out of other people’s drama—I had enough of my own—but Elodie hardly knew anyone here, and I was curious about this connection of hers. The only people she talked to were on Facebook.

My next client was a sleeper. He usually conked out within five minutes, which left me with the entire hour to think about my brother. Oh—and how much I was dreading tonight’s dinner. I was slightly envious of Austin for being far away in North Carolina, sleeping past noon and working part time at Kmart.