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Living the Life of Holly
By Holly Winter
The Steam Had its Say

“You don’t have a towel?” Linda asked.

“Um. No.” I said, slowly. “Why would I need a towel at the gym? I didn’t plan on breaking a sweat.”

She laughed. “Yeah. You proved that in the step aerobics class. You got more exercise from laughing at yourself than you did from stepping.”

“Hey.” I pouted. “I was making up my own routines.”

“Oh. Were they routines?” She laughed. “Don’t try to sell them, ok?” She grabbed some workout towels from the stack in the locker room. “These will do just fine.”

“Ok.” I said, doubtfully as I held up a little washcloth for inspection. Um. Small.

“We can go in naked. The sauna’s clean.”

I hesitated. “Is it co-ed?”

“No. Women only.”

“Oh. Good.” I sighed. “If there aren’t any men, I won’t have to hold in my stomach…”

We giggled our way into the empty sauna. The smell of eucalyptus wafted up to greet us. I laid the little workout towel on the tile and sat down. How relaxing was this?

“I needed this.” I said. “I was starting to get really cold watching you lift weights.”

“Yeah.” She said. “Watching ME lift weights won’t keep YOU warm, in case you were wondering. And it probably won’t tone your biceps either.”

We laughed.

The steam hissed on. A big whooshing sound filled the room making communication impossible. I relaxed and watched as the room fill with so much steam that I couldn’t see my friend.

“It’s almost scary.” She yelled as I watched her disappear.

I’ve only been in a sauna a few times in my life. It’s always seemed pointless to sit in a sweltering hot place, sweating nearly to death when there’s no possibility of getting a tan. Um. Why?

I was thirsty but didn’t have a water bottle, so I opened my mouth to let some steam swim in.

The steam clicked off. It was the first time Linda and I had been alone since my arrival in ShowLow, Arizona. We talked about a backpacking trip she and Luke took up in the mountains where it rained and rained. I gave a mushy account of my growing relationship with Cool-guy, which impressed her.

“Growing relationship? You?”

The steam automatically clicked on again to fill the room with new, moist heat. It was unbearably loud and our conversation came to a forced stop. Ok. No problem. Linda could make fun of me later. There wasn’t any rush to our banter. And clearly the steam wanted us to take a break from all the talking to relax.

The moment quiet returned, we resumed our conversation. She talked about her job as director and what it was like to have employees under her and the whiles of scheduling. I told her about how fun it was to answer fan e-mail from all over the world and filled her in on the latest and best fan-marriage proposals from men hoping for a green card.

The steam clicked on again and forced us to remember why people like the sauna. Relaxation. Contemplation. We watched as the steam filled the room. Then Linda talked about how happy she was for her son who had just married and moved away from home for good, and how much she missed her daughter who had taken a job as a nanny in Phoenix. We waited as the noisy steam once again cleared away our conversation and left room for the next streams of consciousness.

I told her my travel tales about Portuguese fish that tasted like lamb and wandering through Madrid’s ghetto on a shopping spree to support the poor side of town. She told of hiking the back country of Alaska with her brother where she willed for a night that never came. We let the whooshing steam take over the conversation one more time and watched as the clouds blew into every corner of the room. I let my head rest against the wall and really let myself relax as the steam took its course. It stopped.

She talked about her daughter, Oolie, who had already thought up four hundred reasons to miss swim team practice, and her son, Pete, who was a master at coming up with activities that released him from ever having to wash the dishes. We waited while the steam rushed in to have its say. I laughingly told her that the weather in Denver had been in the sixties for the past week. She filled me in on her parents and I told her about mine.

Steam time. Again. Relax. Wait. Relax. Wait. Go.

I smiled. “Did you know that Oolie once tried to kill the fish, back when they were still swimming?”

Linda sighed. “Yes. She told me that. But she never did tell me why. That’s when we moved the tank from her bedroom into the kitchen.”

“She told me.” I laughed. “She was tired of the fish staring at her all the time.”

“WHAT?” Her mother laughed.

“She said when she was ten, those fish used to watch her undress.”

Linda started laughing. “My kids tell you everything. She never told ME that.”

“When she woke up every morning, the fish would already be awake, and it was as if they were just waiting for her to take off her clothes. She tried covering the tank, but she was afraid they could see through the cover. So. She had to resort to grossly underfeeding, then overfeeding.”

Synchronized laugher filled the little room as the steam drowned out our conversation yet again. We continued laughing into the steam for some time before we gave in to the quiet.

I settled back against the wall. It was great in here. I loved this. Really did. What could be better? I ran my hand down my soaking wet arm. Nice. I took a deep breath. I couldn’t breathe in all the way.

I tried again. I took another deep breath. Nope. I couldn’t breathe in all the way.

The whooshing sound stopped.

“I can’t breathe right.” I said.

“Let’s go.” She agreed. “I wonder how long we’ve been in here?”

I stood up. It was even hotter when I stood. “Too long. I don’t feel good.” I said. “I’m dehydrated. That’s really bad for me to dehydrate with my epilepsy medicine and all.” Actually overheating is a bad idea too. Guess I should have thought about that before, hmmm?

We got to the door and stopped.

“How does it open?” I asked, pushing on the door.

“You pull it in.” She said, pulling the door.

We both pulled and pushed to no avail. The door wouldn’t open.

“Maybe it opens on the left side?” I suggested.

“No.” She said. “I know it opens this way.”

I didn’t know that for every push I was giving, she was pulling. We were working against each other. If I didn’t feel so weak, the fact that we appeared to be locked in the sauna might have been funnier.

The whooshing started and hot steam blasted our feet and legs as the spigots were right next to the door.

“I don't feel good.” I said again.

She put her hands on her hips. “I don’t get it.”

I put my hands over my face. “I can’t believe we’re going to die in the sauna because we’ve talked too much.” I said. “Is this a lesson in irony?”

We let out short, weak laughs.

The steam continued to burn our legs and feet.

“Why don’t they have the door marked? Linda asked.

“It must push open.” I said again, giving a strong push. “All doors push…”

The door flung open and we fell, naked, into the locker room, where we sunk to the floor gulping fresh air.

“’Bout time.” I laughed, grabbing a workout towel.

“How long were we in there?” Linda asked.

“Don’t know.” I said. “I left my sauna-watch at your house with my towel.”

Synchronized laughter.

An older woman, wrapped in a towel from the shower, handed me a sympathetic bottle of water. “You’ve been in the sauna this whole time?”

“Yes.” Linda laughed. “We’ve been talking.”

“That’s dangerous.” She admonished. “Your bodies are cherry red.”

“It’s no wonder.” I said, taking another long drink. “We couldn’t get out.”

“How long were we in there?” Linda asked.

“Over half hour.” Older-woman said.

“Man.” Linda joked. “If the steam would’ve stopped interrupting us, we would’ve finished our conversation much faster and been out long ago.”

Synchronized laughing.

“You kidding?” Older-woman asked. “The steam was telling you to get out, over and over. But you weren’t listening, were you?”

“See.” I laughed. “That’s my problem. I thought the steam was telling me to relax. And here it was telling me to get out? Um. I need more practice.”

“Tomorrow?” Linda asked.

We fell back against the cool brick of the locker room and let our synchronized laughter ring out. I think our laughter answered her question. Would we be back to sauna again and learn the steam’s lesson?

Um. I think that was a yes.

Wanna try another column? How about #144 Woozling a Pear Crisp Recipe which is about me trying to get Cool-guy to give me his very best recipe. Hey. That won't be hard, will it?

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