SPA DAY

© 2012 by Danna

Short story for Creative Writing Class at Bartlett Senior Center, Bartlett, TN

            I awoke Friday morning utterly exhausted.  It was my first night in a month to have a full six hours sleep but I couldn’t tell that I was rested at all.  My shoulders were still tight and I could barely put one foot in front of another as I made my way to the bathroom and flipped on the light.  I leaned closer to the mirror and examined the wrinkles in my face and the droopy eyelids over bloodshot eyes.  What had happened to that fresh, young reporter straight out of college?  The years were catching up with me—no, the years had overtaken me and now, instead of climbing that ladder of success, I was going downhill fast.  After twenty years of covering police calls and interviewing victims of tragedy, from the minor fender-bender to the major homicide, I decided that I deserved a day off. 

            I went back to bed and flopped my head on the pillow.  My cell was almost like an extension of my hand, always charged.  I never had to search for it; it was instinctively at my fingertips.  I flipped it open and hit #1 on my speed dial.

            “Yeah.” My boss’ reply was immediate.  He, too, was in constant communication with his staff.

            “I’m taking the day off.”

            “On a Friday?” he snapped.  “What’s going on?”

            “I’m just worn out.  Can’t I take a day off?”

            “I warned you if you tried to cover every story that came along, you would run yourself into the ground.”

            He was right—I had moved from the speed of a hare to the crawl of a slug and if I didn’t remedy the situation soon, I would be stepped on by anyone who had had a good night’s sleep. 

            “Yes, I know,” I answered.  “My mind and body are shutting down.”

            “But why today?  You know how the natives gear up for the weekend.”

            “If I don’t get a day off, I will be one of the victims covered on the front page.  Now let me g-o!” I moaned.

            “Well, take whatever time you need,” he said reluctantly, “but I hope ‘the big one’ happens today and you miss it.”

            “I’ll take my chances.”

            Ah, sweet relief.  I turned over on the pillow and shut my eyes once again.  It was short-lived.  I laid there for what seemed like an hour.  Why couldn’t I fall back to sleep?  I picked up my cell phone.  The time had only moved ahead twenty minutes.  Is this what a day off feels like?  I thought to myself.  I sat up on the side of the bed and stared at my dresser.  What to do?  What to do?  I should have planned this day better. 

            I reached for the phone book and started flipping through the yellow pages.  Acupuncture?  No!  Aircraft Charter?  No!  Archery?  No!  Beauty Salon/Spa?  Hey, maybe that’s what I needed.  A sauna and massage.  I could already feel my shoulders relaxing.  The ad read, ‘Walk-Ins Welcome, Hours—9:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m.’  I could shower, eat breakfast, and be waiting at their front door by 8:59 and 30 seconds.

            The spa was located in a strip mall just thirty minutes away.  It was sandwiched between a barber shop and a vitamin store.  Like minds traveled together.  Every shop seemed to be geared to personal grooming and healthcare.  Just what this old body needed.

            I stood in front of an inviting picture window decorated with all the frills and lace that a spa usually used to entice its patrons.  Like a child in front of a candy store, I stared inside to see shelves of candles and aromatherapy, brushes and manicure sets, body lotions and body wash, and every product that is meant to keep the skin soft and satiny.  I could see movement inside, then bright lights startled me as the spa came to life.  An attractive receptionist smiled and unlocked the door.

            “Good morning, I’m Jackie.  May I help you?”

            “Yes, I’m  Marion.”  I followed her inside.  “What openings do you have today?”

            “Well, you’re in luck.  We had a cancellation last night. We can do a manicure, pedicure, facial, sauna, massage; anything and everything you want.

            “What, no lunch?” I asked jokingly.

            “What would you like?” she smiled back realizing she caught me off guard.

            “I want everything you have to offer and surprise me on the lunch.”

            After all the check-in and scheduling was satisfied, she led me through a pleasant waiting area and into a room with a massage table.  It was warm and dark with soothing music playing softly.

            “Janet will be with you shortly.  Please remove everything but your underwear and lay face down under this sheet.”  She placed it on the bed and smiled with a wink as she closed the door.

            I undressed and buried my face into the open cushion.  I already felt the pampered attention setting in and I loved it.  I had almost drifted off to sleep when I heard the door open and a perfumed body come closer.

            “Hello,  Marion.  I’m Janet, your masseuse.  What areas need focused attention today?”

            “Actually, I need a full body makeover but you can concentrate on the neck and shoulders.  I don’t sleep well at night.”

            She placed her fingers gently and began to rub.  “Your shoulders are like bricks.  This may take awhile.”

            “I have as long as it takes,” I told her.  “I’m here for the duration.”  I must have dozed off because she had to wake me to turn over.  I was already feeling sweet relief in my bones.

            One hour later I was hustled into my next room for a facial.  Brianna worked magic as she moved her fingers over my face and explained the need to stimulate my skin’s blood supply.  Unfortunately, she also explained my skin problems, which will go unmentioned at this time.

            Feeling absolutely spoiled and almost woozy with relaxation, Jackie now entered to take me to my next location—a private dining room.  Soothing music was playing as I entered.  A red velvet fainting couch was against the wall and there were several magazines from which to choose.  A small table with two chairs and a lace cloth displayed finger sandwiches and fresh fruit.  An aroma candle was burning and the lighting was dim.

            “Trudy will be with you shortly,” she smiled delightfully and disappeared.

            I decided to ‘swoon’ on the fainting couch since I had never tried one before.  I picked up a magazine and flipped through it not really interested in anything in particular.  The recline of the couch quickly sent me off to sleep.

            “Marion? Marion?” Someone whispered in my ear.

            I opened my eyes and saw the faint outline of a woman.  I was still too groggy and disoriented to sit up. 

            “Would you like to eat now or continue with your nap?” she asked.

            “I’ll eat now,” I replied.

            “We have an assortment of teas and spring water.”

            “Surprise me,” I said.  Spa day could become a habit.  I sat up, stretched, and rubbed my eyes.  Could I ever get back behind my desk again?  I wondered.

            Trudy returned shortly with three varieties of tea and one water.  I sat down at the table and filled my plate with little sandwiches on a variety of breads and scooped up an assortment of melons, grapes, strawberries, and apples.  All of this was daintier than I was used to considering I usually ate on the run.

            Thirty minutes later Jackie entered again.  “Are you ready for your manicure?  I have Penny waiting for you.”

            I followed her into a large room with several manicurists waiting on other customers.  Jackie led me to Penny’s station and I sat down.

            “Hello,” she greeted with a smile.  “It’s nice to have you with us today.  I’ll just warm up this water for you to soak while you choose a color.”

            Penny was the talker and knew I was a captive audience; unlike Janet, Breanna, and Trudy who let me relax and soak up the atmosphere. She asked the usual get-acquainted questions but quickly focused on herself, her husband, her children, her thoughts, desires, ambitions, and the rising cost of gasoline.  She was an expert on my nails but I couldn't take the conversation much longer.  She finally announced she was through and I left a tip on the table as I had done for the others.

            Jackie came to retrieve me one last time and led me to the checkout desk.  “How did you like your experience with us today, Marion?” she asked.

            “It was great; what’s the damage?” I now looked at my watch for the first time since I had arrived.  It was one o’clock and I had been at the spa four hours.  I never would have believed that someone could spend that much time on personal care.  I paid the bill and walked out to my car.  Where could I go now?  Nothing seemed appropriate after the special treatment I had just received.  I hated to return to my pace of life on the highways and byways of the city.  But I did think of something I wanted to do. 

            I returned to the office and sat down at my desk.  The computer came to life and I began to type, A Day at the Spa by Marion "Butch" Madison.