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"You could skip the massage."
"Are you kidding me? Did you look at the prices when we got here? I'm not skipping anything on this itinerary because I'll never get to experience luxury like this again. I am going to squeeze every last drop I can out of this all-expenses paid trip, Dani, and I'm going to enjoy it. That is fun for me."
Dani shook her head.
"The sad thing is, babe, I believe you. That really is your idea of fun."
"And because you're my beloved friend who I chose to accompany me, you should just gratefully accept it, and stop trying to pay me to flirt with strangers."
"Oh, now look who's using her friend's broke-ness against her!" But Dani laughed and scrunched her nose, which meant she'd accepted defeat—at least temporarily. "Okay, let's go get very expensive massages."
As we headed for the door I took one last look, but the man was nowhere to be seen.
Definitely for the best, I told myself.The last thing you need is a man.
The massage roomswere a contrast to the dining hall. They were small, cozy chambers with dim lighting, filled with low, meditative music. Dani was a few feet away, chattering happily to her masseuse, who murmured a response from time to time. I was trying to memorize all the details of the experience, because I was hoping to blog about it later. Up until this point, I had only blogged about art that I liked, but I was trying to expand to include more personal content. I focused on the sensations so I could describe them later: the gentle pressure from the masseuse's hands, the sweet orange scent of the massage oil, the towel wrapped around my torso—which was the softest thing that had ever touched my skin. The masseuse moved up to my shoulders and her thumb deftly dug deep into a knot I hadn't even realized was there. The release felt so good I let out an inadvertent moan and immediately felt myself blush.
"Sorry," I whispered, keeping my eyes tightly closed.
"You're fine, dear," the masseuse said softly. I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. She was an older woman, and I suddenly thought about how she reminded me of my Aunt Vicky. The same kind, unflappable presence.
Aunt Vicky would have loved this trip, I thought, then realized to my horror that tears were welling up behind my closed eyelids. I blinked hard and sat up, hearing a slight noise of surprise from the masseuse.
"You okay, dear?" she asked.
"Yes, I'm fine, I just... I think maybe the incense is giving me a headache," I lied.
The other masseuse, her knuckles deep into Dani's shoulder blade, frowned.
"But there's no incense."
Out of the corner of my eye I saw my masseuse give a slight shake of her head.
"Deira, you okay?" came Dani's muffled voice from her massage table.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. I'm sorry."
"It can be a little overwhelming. Maybe you'd like to take a moment in one of our private saunas? I don't believe any are booked for the afternoon."
"Oh, I don't think that's included in our stay..." I said, and regretted it, because the idea of being alone for a minute sounded really good.
"You let me worry about that, dear," the woman said, and gave me a friendly wink. "Come on, hop down and I'll walk you over. It's just across the hall."
I took her outstretched hand and eased myself to the floor. She gently guided me out of the room and into another section of the resort, a long hallway made of wood with many doors off each side. She consulted a chart on the wall and then ushered me to one of the doors, unlocking it with a key that she fished out of her uniform pocket.
"Here you are, dear. Take as long as you need."
"Thank you," I told her as I stepped across the threshold. She cheerfully nodded and then disappeared as the door swung closed behind her.
The room was small and made of the same wood as the corridor outside. It was dark and expectedly humid, with benches along the walls and a raised platform in the middle. Atop the platform was a pile of stones, and beside it was a bucket of water and a ladle for pouring water on the stones. I added a ladle of water to the rocks and watched the steam rise before sitting down on one of the benches. I took a deep breath and felt the emotions about Aunt Vicky rising to the surface again.
It had been four years since she had suddenly passed away, and I thought I was done grieving. Aunt Vicky had been my saving grace, the woman who rescued me from the children's home after my parents died, the person who had become my rock. And she had always worked so hard to see not just that I had what I needed, but that I had fun, and was happy. She was the one to first spark my interest in art, and she'd always encouraged my blogging, telling me she thought that people would love to know what I was thinking.
Even though it was just the two of us growing up, and we never had much money, things had never felt bleak. Not like they had since she'd been gone. I was trying to pursue my dreams of blogging full-time and one day traveling the world to see my favorite art pieces, but it was difficult. I found myself struggling to make it through day-to-day life, let alone hold onto my ability to dream about the future.
Hot tears welled up in my eyes, but it seemed okay to let them out now. They mingled with my sweat as they poured down my face, and I let them flow until I was sobbing. I leaned my head back and cried until it seemed like there were no more tears. I felt exhausted, but also calm.
I took a deep breath and wiped my tears with a corner of the towel. I remembered one of Vicky's sayings, that everything seemed clearer after a good cry. And it was true—now that I'd released my feelings things didn't seem so heavy. I laid my head back and just let myself sit in the heat, once again trying to focus on how I'd describe the experience to my readers.
