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“That one’s yours,” says Harlen, pointing to the smallest one on the end. “Her name’s Diamon and she’s as gentle as a lamb.”
“Hi, Diamon,” I say, patting her muzzle gently. Her soft warm breath is comforting in the chilly morning air.
Diamon treats me well and we cover the ground fast with the chordata’s long rolling gait. After a while, I settle in and start enjoying the ride. It’s much faster than walking, that's for sure.
The lodge, when we get there, is amazing. It is situated on the banks of the hot spring, and it does not take us long to wind up in the water with a bottle of fire blaster.
“This is the life,” says Trish, taking a swig out of the bottle and passing it on to me.
Her words are punctuated by the constant drip of snow as it melts from the massive rounded boulders that surround the pool.
I take a pull from the bottle and swim through the steamy water to Dorian, who is sitting on the edge and refusing to come in.
“Come on,” I say. “You can touch the bottom here. It’s just like a giant bath.”
“I think I need some more of that bottle first,” she replies.
“Come and get it,” I coax, holding it just out of her grasp.
“Yeah, come on, Dor. You can’t sit on the edge all day,” calls Harlen.
Dorian looks at me with a worried frown. “I can’t swim,” she says.
“You don’t need to. Look, I’m standing up. You’ll love it once you’re in,” I tell her.
With reluctance, Dorian slips into the water. “Oh, wow. It’s amazing,” she says, her eyes wide.
“Yep, and you get to have a drink as a reward,” I tell her, handing over the bottle.
“And now it’s your turn to get over your fear,” Harlen says, giving me a poke.
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.
“Your fear of talking about things,” she replies pointedly.
“Oh, shit, that,” I say. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“More than anything,” she replies.
I look to the others, hoping someone will stick up for me and tell her it’s none of her business. But everyone nods their heads vigorously. “You’re all in league against me,” I tell them.
“Yep,” says Trish. “Come on, spill it, kiddo.”
And so I tell them everything. And as my story unwinds, I realize Harlen is right. Talking to these understanding women is incredibly therapeutic.
“Well, he doesn’t deserve you, that’s all I can say,” Trish tells me as she hands me the nearly empty bottle.
“Yep, what a jerk, thinking you’ll just open the door and invite him after the way he treated you. You did the right thing,” adds Harlen. “No wonder you overslept this morning. You poor thing. Did you sleep at all last night?”
“Not much,” I admit, visions of the hurt in his face as I closed the door flashing through my mind.
“You’ll find someone who treats you right, don’t worry,” says Dorian, touching my arm. “You’re a lovely person, and I know there’s someone out there just right for you.”
“Thanks, Dorian,” I say. “Look, girls, I think I’m going to turn in. I really didn’t get much sleep at all last night.”
“Sure, Mira. Sleep well,” Harlen tells me.
But it is long after I hear the other three stumble into bed before sleep claims me. My heart knows I can’t let him go, even if I can’t figure out why.
