“Would you mind?” The man pointed to the thermometer.
The other man and I looked at him silently, giving him our assent. The first man walked over to the thermometer, careful not to slip on the warm, slick tiles, and poured cold water over the gauge. He sat with us in the steam room and waited.
Seconds later, a deep hissing sound erupted from the far corner, and a mist curled into the small room. The steam kept spewing until the room became a haze. I looked at the beads of sweat and moisture collecting on my forearms and saw my and legs slowly disappear into the fog.
The two men, inches away from me, vanished. I could make out a line of distinction where their bodies were.
The sound of splashing swimmers in the pool managed to seep through the windows of the steam room; other than that, the three of us were silent and motionless, breathing softly, deeply, hidden in the gray and in the depths of our thoughts.
This is what the waiting room in purgatory must be like, I mused.
I closed my eyes, letting the heat from the lamps and the water in the air envelope me, touch those cold parts inside of me, and I let myself go limp. When I opened my eyes, all I saw was a thick vapor. I could have been standing at the edge of the world, right at the end of time, and looking out over the expanse of a nameless, eternal sea…
God, my heart murmured, why don’t you take me from my pain?
The vapor hung motionless in the air. The men’s thin outlines were traced against the gray.
I feel so lost, so alone, so hardened, God. Where are you, and why am I still in this painful space? When will you take me to better places?
Hot droplets of water had gathered on the tile ceiling and dripped down onto my body. Those that didn’t made light splunking noises on the floor. We all breathed quietly.
I’m always so distracted, so busy, so much wanting to avoid those things that bring pain. But my heart aches still, God; I can’t pretend for too much longer. I forget you in the chaos and bitterness. I know you’re everywhere; why don’t you condense so I can see you?
The steam was starting to fade. I could see the swimsuits of the two men, faintly. It would be pretty memorable to make out with a guy in this room like this, I smiled to myself. Yeah, that would be hot.
The heat sank into my bones, and I watched objects, previously hidden, slowly emerge once again. The chair. The window. The men. I remembered I was in a swimming suit with two large, unknown men in a concealed room. I pushed those thoughts aside.
The air cleared a little more until I could see their faces and they could see mine. One guy took his towel and water bottle and left. The other man looked at me and said, “How ‘bout that weather?” We talked about nothing – the car I’m trying to sell, my work. He tried to invite me out to dinner; I politely ignored the veiled question.
I was overheated. I said goodbye to the man and swung open the steam room door, sucking in the cold air as I headed for the locker room.
On the way home, I felt the ground beneath me. This is my earth, I thought. I’m not just walking on the sidewalk; I’m walking on miles of dirt and stones and clay and creatures and magma. The trees glowed in the lamplight, yellow and slick with frozen rain. The weeds beyond the chain link fence moved stiffly in the air. I’m alive, I said to myself. I’m surrounded by life. Why don’t I always sense life like this?
The moon was a crescent in the sky, smiling. The night air held me, and even the line of parked cars waited for me, listening. My hair was still wet when I reached the apartment, and I felt different than just an hour ago – more real, more loved, more connected.
I got out my house key and opened the door, quiet inside.

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