I got to Blake’s clinic before eight. I didn’t have an appointment. I only wanted to tell my story once. The receptionist recognized me. “Michele, we’ve been worried about you. You disappeared on us. Then we saw the news, and I’m so sorry. Let me call Dr. Greene. We’ll work you in.” She called her, but it was Blake who showed up. He smiled at me. “Michele, come on into my office.” I didn’t want to, but all the resistance had gone out of me. His office was small, and diplomas hung on one of the walls. Texas State University chiropractic. Texas A&M bachelor of science. Pictures adorned another wall: Blake with clients, Blake in bicycle attire in a crowd of people in street clothes within a large crowd of other bicyclists in front of the courthouse on the square in La Grange, a spot I recognized instantly. Blake saw me staring at the photo. “Me and my fan club. That’s the start in La Grange of day two of the MS 150. I’m a hometown boy, so every relative I have comes out to say hello.”
