Adjustments

There are millions of nerve fibers that come out of the spine, my Doctor of Chiropractic, Stieg Huffelmeyer, tells me. Stieg is a nice man. A small, stout man who has an earring. He tells me to lie down. He puts his small fat hands on my back. Oh, he says, You're tight, Curt. Very tight. He says, Do you feel like you're lying down straight? Yes, I tell him. Because, he says, you're body is bent towards the right. He says, You're going to need adjustments.

And he tells me to lie this way and that and to put my legs this way and that and to let my arms hang loose, to dangle. And I trust him when he cradles my body and squeezes. I trust him when my back cracks and when he holds my neck and says, Loosen up Curt, and turns my head with his palms quickly so that my spine adjusts.

Adjustments. Stieg tells me that in a few weeks, my spine will have been adjusted just right. Adjustments. Could Stieg adjust my life? What if he could tell me to stand one way and what if he could squeeze my body and what if then, much of my past could be adjusted, cracked into the right place? Adjustments. No prison. Adjustments. I would have a drink with Tony, tonight. Adjustments. I would have a family. Adjustments. Stella. Adjustments.

Adjustments.