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muscle performance.”
    He sighed and rolled his eyes.
    Oh. No. He. Didn’t.
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Hightower, but am I boring you? Does the discussion of how I plan to help you with your back bother you?” She knew her tone was snappy, but she couldn’t help it.
    He sighed again. “I heard all of this from my doctor. I know what a physical therapist is supposed to do, so can we get to it and just do it?”
    Oh. Yes. He. Did.
    How could she have been so wrong about a person? This impatient, irritable man was nothing like she had imagined, nothing like the man she had dreamed of him being. She almost wished she had never met him. At least then she would still have her sweet version of him to think about.
    She plastered on her most professional smile. “Fine. I can explain as we go along.”
    You surly sourpuss of a man!
    Once she started working with him, things went somewhat smoothly. As long as they didn’t try to have a conversation, they were fine.
    After working with him on balance, coordination and trying to get him used to moving around without the cane, she decided to try another shot at small talk. They had three months of therapy to get through, after all. It would be nice if they could build at least a cordial working relationship.
    Basketball!
    What man didn’t like to talk about sports? And the Nets and the Knicks were both having great seasons. As a Jersey guy, he was bound to be a fan of one of those teams.
    Being a Chi-town girl, she personally liked the Bulls over all teams. She had been a fan since the days of Michael Jordan and she believed he was the greatest player to have ever played the game.
    No one compared. No one.
    And she included the Bulls in her prayers at least once a week—two or three times during the play-offs—in hopes the team would return to its former glory.
    But she could squelch her fandom to reach out to a patient. She didn’t hate the Nets or the Knicks. She could tolerate those teams and their fans. As long as he wasn’t a Lakers fan or God forbid a Phoenix Suns fan, they could have a nice conversation.
    “So, what do you think about the Nets?”
    He shrugged. “I don’t think about them. I’m not really a fan of the team.”
    “Oh, so you’re a Knicks fan?”
    “Knicks? No way. That’s my brother Lawrence’s favorite team. I can’t stand them. They invent new ways to lose a game. Sorriest team in the league, well minus the Chicago Bulls, who haven’t seen a good year since that highly overrated ball hog Jordan left.” He laughed.
    The hair stood up on the back of her neck and her lip twisted to the side.
    Did he just call Jordan overrated and the Bulls sorry?
    Her mind did a rewind as she replayed his blasphemous words in her mind. Sure, she’d wanted him to lighten up so they could connect, but…
    “Actually, I’m a former Lakers fan. Now it’s all about the Suns. Shaq Diesel will go down in history as the best to ever play the game.” He flexed an arm muscle and nodded.
    She could only assume he was trying to convince himself that the nonsense he was spouting was somehow true.
    “On what planet? You must be delusional. Even if Michael Jordan had never played the game, Shaq would hardly qualify as the best to ever play it. And really…the Lakers? The Suns? That just lets me know you don’t have a thing to say about the sport worth listening to.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she winced.
    She turned and looked at him and saw he was staring at her with a perplexed expression.
    “So, because I like a different team and don’t think Jordan hung the moon, then I just need to shut up?”
    Well, when you say it like that, it does sound kind of harsh.
    She took a deep breath.
    It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Mr. Hightower, “yes, shut up!” He made her mouth go on extra-overload saying things she would have never said to a patient, ever.
    Her father used to take her to see the Bulls when she was a kid. After he was gone, she still