The Massage

“Good morning,” he said. “My name is Frank. I will be your masseur today. Would you like the regular Thai massage, the refreshing shiatsu, or the combination?”

I chose the combo. Two treatments in a single massage? Frugal is my middle name.

It all began well. I stripped down to my underpants and lay stomach down on the bed. Frank turned down the light. I got comfortable.

Shoulders, arms, pressure points. I had had a stressful week. This was good. Although I much preferred women masseuses, Frank had very strong hands. It would be fine.

He started telling me about his life. Although I usually hate it when I have to listen to other people’s life stories, Frank was interesting. He had joined a merchant fleet after high school and had literally visited every port of call one could think of. He had married a girl from Marseilles and had fathered two young girls who did not speak English. He had come back to London to take care of his ailing mother.

So far so good. He had moved down to work on my calves and feet. I relaxed. Frank continued. He told me that he was Canadian. I answered him that I was as well. I thought nothing of it. There are so many Canadians in London, after all.

But when he told me he was from Ottawa, my brain awoke from its semi-dormancy. What are the chances of that? I thought to myself.  What high school did you go to? I asked him. Hillcrest, he answered. That was spooky. I studied there. I asked him what year he finished. “I never finished,” he told me.

His hands became stronger and slightly painful. Could he sense my muscles tensing? Or was he in stress from some past memory.

It hit me. I was being massaged by Frank Gordon, the high school student who had been expelled.

“Frank,” I said, “Then you must know who I am. I never meant to blame you. I had no choice.” I spoke and rambled on in the darkness. His hands were no longer touching my body. When I finished, I waited for him to say something. Anything.

There was no answer. Frank had left silently. He had taken my clothes, my shoes, my wallet.  And most of my pride.