The Brightest Stars

“Sorry, I just wanted to know what level of pressure you wanted?”

“Any?” He didn’t sound like he knew what he wanted. Probably a first-timer. He put his head back into the cradle.

“Okay. Just tell me if the pressure is too light or too firm and I’ll adjust my touch,” I told him.

I could be a little heavy-handed and most of my clients liked that, but I’d never worked on this guy before.

Who knew if he’d ever come back? I’d say only about four of out of ten first-timers actually returned and only one or two become regulars. We weren’t a big salon, but we had a steady clientele.

“This is peppermint oil.” I dotted the little bottle against my forefinger. “I’m going to rub some into your temples. It helps with—”

He lifted his head up, lightly shaking it. “No,” he said. His voice wasn’t harsh, but it let me know he absolutely did not want me to use peppermint oil. Okay …

“Okay.” I screwed the lid back on the bottle and turned the faucet. Damn it. The water. I knelt down and opened the towel warmer. Empty. Of course it was.

“Um, just a second,” I told him. He laid his head back into the cradle and I shut the warmer door a little too hard. I hoped he didn’t hear it over the music. This wasn’t turning out to be the smoothest session …

MALI WAS IN THE HALLWAY when I pushed through the thin curtain to search for towels. “I need water. Or warm towels.”

She put her fingers to her lips to tell me to hush. “There’s no water. I have towels. Who didn’t stock?”

I shrugged. I didn’t know and didn’t really care; I just wanted a towel. “He’s been in my room for five minutes and I haven’t started yet.”

At that she moved faster, disappearing into the room across the hall and popping back up with a few hot towels. I grabbed them from her, shifting the steaming bundles from palm to palm to cool them off.

When I got back into the room, I waved the towel through the air one last time and rubbed it across the bottom of his bare feet. His skin was so hot to the touch that I pulled the towel away and touched the back of my hand to the top of his foot to make sure he didn’t have a fever or anything. I couldn’t afford to be sick.

Literally. The days on my dad’s Tricare were coming to an end and I couldn’t afford health insurance on my own.

His skin felt so hot. I lifted the blanket a little and realized he was still wearing his pants. That was just … strange. I didn’t know how I was going to rub his other leg, the one I was supposed to massage.

“Did you want me to avoid your legs altogether?” I quietly asked him.

He nodded his head in the cradle. I continued to run the hot towel across the bottoms of his feet, something I did to clean off any oil and dirt. The hygiene of clients … well, let’s just say it varied. Some people came in wearing sandals after walking around all day. Not this guy, though. He must have showered before he came in. I appreciated that. These were the things you thought about as a masseuse. I started on the balls of his feet, applying pressure there and moving to the arch of his left foot. There was a soft, bubbly line across the bottom of his left foot, but I couldn’t see the scar in the dark. I slid my thumb slowly along the arch and he jerked a little.

I was used to timing my hour sessions perfectly, about five minutes per leg, so I took the extra time to work on his shoulders. A lot of people carried tension in their shoulders, but this guy—if these weren’t the stiffest shoulders I’d ever worked on, they sure came close. I had to stop myself from making up a story about his life.

I continued, keeping his legs covered by the blanket and working on his neck, his shoulders, his back. His muscles were defined, but not bulky or hard under my moving fingers. I imagined his young body had been carrying the weight of something for a long time—a rucksack, maybe. Or just life itself. He didn’t express enough of himself for me to make up a life for him the way I did with Bradley and most of the other strangers around me. There was something about this guy that kept my imagination at bay.

His scalp was the last part I worked on. The soft pressure release usually made people moan or at least sigh, but nothing came from his lips. He didn’t make a peep. I thought maybe he’d fallen asleep. That happened often and I loved when it did. It meant I did a good job. When the time was up, I felt like it had just started. I usually drifted in and out of thought—my dad, my brother, work, my house. But there was something about working on this guy. I came up with nothing.

“Thank you, was everything okay?” Sometimes I asked, sometimes I didn’t. This guy was so quiet that I wasn’t sure if he’d enjoyed it or not.

He kept his face in the cradle so I barely heard him when he said, “Yeah.”

Okay …

“Okay, well I’m going to step out and let you get dressed. I’ll see you in the lobby when you’re finished. Take your time.”

He nodded and I left the room, pretty sure I wouldn’t be getting a tip.

I HEARD ELODIE IN THE LOBBY. She was talking to Mali, who was giving her a hard time for being late.

“I took your client—he’s dressing now,” I told my friend. It didn’t hurt to let Mali know that everything was covered, no harm done. Elodie smiled at me and tilted her head to the side. She had this thing about her where she could get away with just about anything.

“I’m so sorry, Karina. Thank you.” She kissed both of my cheeks. That was something I got used to the first week she moved in. I wasn’t really fond of excess touching but with her, it was hard to recoil the way I normally would.

“I couldn’t fall asleep last night. The avocado started kicking.” Her smile grew wide, but I could tell by her eyes that she wasn’t rested. I could relate.

Mali put her hand on Elodie’s stomach and started talking to the baby. I half expected her to ask the bump what’s wrong, why aren’t you smiling? but Mali was soft and kind around children, even the ones who hadn’t been born yet. It made me a little uncomfortable, the way she was touching Elodie like that, but the idea of the baby kicking was exciting, so I smiled. I really was happy for my friend. It worried me that she was so alone here with her family and most of her friends across the Atlantic Ocean. She was young. So young. I wondered if she’d had the chance to tell Phillip

that she thought she felt the baby move yesterday, or if he would even get to check his email today. The time zones made it so hard for them to talk as often as Elodie or anyone with a soldier in their life would want, but she was handling it with grace, as she did everything. It scared the hell out of me, though—the fact that she was going to have a baby in a few months.

Elodie’s eyes snapped to the curtain behind me and she lit up like a Christmas tree, pushing past me to the client. She said a name that I couldn’t hear completely, but it didn’t sound anything like Kael. She double kissed his cheeks and hugged him.

“You’re here! I can’t believe you’re here! How did you know?” She squealed and hugged him again.

Mali nodded to my next client who was walking through the front door. “Back to work for you,” she said.

TINA WAS ONE OF MY favorite clients. She worked from home as a family therapist and more than once let me use her massage session as my therapy. I wasn’t open with too many people, but Tina had no one to tell my secrets to. It made me sad for her, though, thinking about how lonely she must be in her big, empty house, eating dinner alone in front of the TV. Then again, that’s what my life consisted of, so I guess I shouldn’t feel too sad for her. I felt slightly guilty about the way a strike of fear slapped against me—was Tina’s life my future?

Today’s session with her felt like it was never going to end. I checked the clock again: ten minutes left.

“So, how are things with your brother?” she asked. I moved her hair to the side so I could focus on the tight muscles in her neck. Tina had recently cut her hair—The Demi, she called it—but hated it and immediately started wearing hats to cover her dark strands. It still wasn’t long enough to put into a ponytail.

I didn’t really want to talk about my brother. Actually, I didn’t want to feel the way I would feel if we talked about my brother.