Page 28 of Hearts Held
Steam rises from fitted marble Olympic-sized swimming pools. Beautiful carved marble statues of snakes and flowers adorn the far corners of the pools. Reclining benches are carved beneath the waters, and patrons lie comfortably atop them, the waters caressing their skin.
Tables hug the walls, covered with candles and various foods. Individuals working for the massage parlor are posted at each table, delicately handing out pieces of fruit and accompanying wineglasses. The men posted at each table wear ornate, gaudy suits, though if one looked closely, the outlines of firearms could also be seen.
Most individuals are wearing bathing suits inside the combined bathhouse, but the women’s bathhouse enjoys to be in the nude. I blush, finding myself uncomfortable with the thought of baring myself for others to see.
After Jameson shows me the bathhouses, respective women’s lounge and dressing area, she takes me back to the massage parlor hallway. We enter a cozy room. A small marble fireplace is lit, and soft navy blue wallpaper adorns the walls, with shelves of glowing candles. The corners of the room have large ornate pots filled with eucalyptus, cotton and olive branches tied together.
The high vaulted ceiling looks as if it goes toward the heavens.
Jameson hands me a plush, soft robe and instructs me to undress to whatever is comfortable.
I pause, self-conscious of the scars on my back.
She can read my unsettled soul and offers an empathetic smile. “Only to what you’re comfortable in, Miss Afton.” After I accept the robe from her, she leaves me to undress.
Considering I get to choose my level of comfort, I leave my undergarments on, as well as an undershirt thathas thin straps. Hopefully Jameson will be understanding of my state. Though I hope she doesn’t pity me for what she finds.
The thin straps only cover a millimeter of the scars across my shoulders.
I climb into the soft silk sheets, lying facedown as she had instructed me to.
Anxiety slowly slithers up my neck as I anticipate her judgment.
I hear the door slowly open and my shoulders seize with tension.
Jameson’s smooth voice fills the room. “All right, my dear, let’s help ease some of that stress, yeah?”
Her body comes closer and I can feel her hovering above me. “I’m about to start on yer shoulders. Ready, deary?”
Nodding my head, I try to ease my breathing and allow this interaction to become a positive one. Or at least I try to convince myself I can.
The sound of the oil bottle twisting closed echoes, and then I feel her hands slowly move across my shoulder blades and underneath my top.
I take in a small, shuddering breath.
I wait forit.
The judgment.
Thequestions.
A few heartbeats pass and all that occurs is calm.
The calmness of her tender touch as it glides underneath my top. I feel her delicate fingers slide across my scars, caressing my skin ever so softly.
Her smooth, sweet voice sings through my ears, “You must be new round here, hon. I haven’t ever seen ya ’efore.” She kneads a knot right above the burn scar in my shoulder.
I sheepishly reply, “I’ve been here for a little bit, but all I do is work. So I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Oh?” she replies with surprise, then spews off a couple more questions: “Well, how many jobs you have that you can’t get any time for yourself?” “Anything you get to do for fun?” “Got a boyfriend?”
The probing questions irritate me, though I don’t let it show. “No boyfriend. A few jobs to try to save up. For fun? I don’t know. Never really paid mind to that.”
She gives a small chuckle under her breath as she continues her peaceful ministrations. As time passes, I tell herabout Flanders Field. She thinks my scars are from the battle, but I don’t care to correct her.
“Well, ain’t you selfless? Make sure you take time for yerself, hon, ’cause being a nurse, I know you do too much for too many and forget ’bout yerself!”
Then she asks a haunting question.
