Dearest Rachel –
It’s something that one doesn’t see every day (which is why I’m writing to you about it, after all), although I’m now going to see it every day for at least the next week or so. I was walking to the gym on Monday morning, and spotted this outside the office complex a couple of blocks up from home:
I have to assume that, in the now nearly thirty years we’ve lived by this place, plenty of businesses have come and gone – legal firms, accounting groups, and all manner of white-collar professional organizations. Odds are, in fact, that this plaza is the bureaucratic equivalent of the ship of Theseus; sure, the buildings are still here from when we moved in (and long before then, in fact), but the folks renting space here aren’t the same as the ones who were doing so upon our arrival. Heck, even the management has changed hands at least once, and maybe more, since we moved to this neighborhood.
But in all that time, I can’t say that I recall a time when a sign had to be put up, warning said neighborhood of a certain business being established here, and the need for the public to gather and air any potential grievances they might have about that specific establishment. And yet, here we are, looking at this. I get why; any business with the word “massage” in it conjures up some rather… unsavory… connotations. It’s enough that you now know what the title of this letter refers to, rather than simply the fact that without you, it’s hardly the fairytale existence we could have hoped for. Moreover, if the place were such a disreputable establishment, this might suggest that it had certain… silent partners… backing it, who would also be considered less than desirable – although now that the horse track is gone, the organization needs to, ah, diversify in order to maintain a presence it probably already had.
But that’s mostly one’s imagination running wild. Truth to tell, you would be better able to defend the business hoping to move it better than I would, but even I can easily guess that this is a perfectly professional operation. Indeed, the cloud of suspicion generated by its association in the past with such seedy elements and practices probably forces it to be that much more circumspect about how it conducts itself – although the fact that they have to jump through legal hoops like this one in order to even get started is additional incentive to stay on the straight and narrow.
The thing is, we are all aging, and as we do, we deal with aches and pains in muscles and joints. It’s the sort of thing that a good rubdown can alleviate from time to time; and while I’d been a go-to for you going back even to our college days, you would also seek out professional relief on a regular basis, more so as time – and your body – wore on. If nothing else, those in the business – like Ellen’s brother-in-law Ramón and his team – knew their art, and how to practice it without cramping up their wrists and fingers after only half an hour of working the kinks out of your shoulders, spine and sacrum. Not only that, but they could do it all with an air of detached professionalism that went no further than the areas that needed loosening up. I certainly couldn’t be counted upon to do so, and while there was more than time and place for that in your life, sometimes that was all you needed.
I wonder how you’d react to see such a place set up shop so nearby. To be honest, I literally know nothing about any of the businesses that set up shop in these buildings up until now; this complex is just there, a weird sort of thing to have exist in an otherwise residential area (although, to be fair, just beyond it is the strip mall in which the gym is, so it’s basically the spot where the zoning lines blur, and homes give way to commercial real estate). As far as I’m concerned, it’s just a parking lot for me to walk through on my way to my workout.
Now for all I know, you might have been overjoyed that a clinic was opening up within such a short walking distance. Then again, you built up relationships – and loyalty – with a family-owned place a couple of miles in the opposite direction, so maybe I’m reading too much into the convenience angle. It’s a moot point for you – and, if the villagers that show up at this hearing have a problem with a ‘massage parlor’ (although it’s not described as such on the sign, and I’d bet good money that the prospective proprietors would bristle at the characterization) in the area, it may be that much more of one.
For my part, it makes no difference as to whether the place is approved or not. While my bones and joints are older than yours ever were or will be, I’ve no need (at least in my mind) of such therapy, so I wouldn’t patronize such an establishment if it existed there. Meanwhile, I’ve literally no real clue of any other businesses operating from this business plaza; that I probably won’t have any idea if this goes through or not will have no impact on my daily life. It just gets my attention that a certain business has to bother with this sort of thing in order to set up shop, when so few others do. Not that I think the others should, but rather than this seems onerous; if no one wants such a business, it won’t get customers, and will die off naturally.
But hey, what do I know about business?
Anyway, I need to get on with my day, honey, so I will ask you as always to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck – and if you want to wish this place luck as well, feel free. They may be in more need of it than I will.
Letters to Rachel 