Page 34 of Lily In The Valley
“Because you don’t. Your mind, brilliant as it is, runs nonstop.”
My fork stopped halfway to my mouth.
“When’s the last time you did something just because,” he continued. “Not for awards or accolades. Or because it looks good on paper?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer.
The longer I held my response, the louder the silence became. How could anyone provide an answer when their whole life was rooted in achievement? For as long as I could remember, I pushed for the next big thing. Slowing down felt like quitting. I loved keeping my brain working. When it rested, when that twitch began twitching, the silence was unbearable. Resting felt like vulnerability.
Khalil didn’t press. He refilled my glass, held another tostada to my lips, waited for me to open up, placed it in my mouth, and sealed my lips with a brush of his thumb.
“This trip, you don’t have to earn rest. You just have to receive it.” He went back to eating his dinner, like he hadn’t threatened to unravel me. “Now, eat. We have something planned after this. And no. I’m not telling you.”
My chest tightened, then loosened. I just sat there, eating the food he knew I wanted, fighting myself to settle into the rest he thought I needed.
The dome was round,warm, and dimly lit with hanging lanterns that swayed gently as people entered barefoot and quiet. Incense curled through the air in tendrils of sandalwood and something floral, wrapping around me in feather-light kisses. I stood just inside of the threshold, staring at the arrangement of mats and cushions forming a circle across the stone floor.
“Khalil, I know you aren’t about to have us join a cult,” I whispered under my breath.
He chuckled behind me. “Do I look like somebody that would join a cult?”
“A little bit,” I replied, trying not to smile. “If someone starts chanting in tongues”
“Chill.” He laughed. “You trust me, right?”
He gave me a nudge toward the nearest set of cushions. I sat down stiffly. Around us, other couples stretched out on blankets, water bottles, and crystals. One woman had a rose quartz clutched to her chest like a prayer.
A hushed wave went around the room as a woman, small and serene, entered. Long, silver braids graced over her shoulders and went down her back. The cream linen tunic flowed from her shoulders to her ankles, its hems catching traces of red earth in their threads. She spoke softly about releasing tension and allowing the body to be a container for rest.
My head shot over to Khalil sitting behind me, his thighs bracketing me there. His hand turned my head around to the center where the woman stood without dropping his gaze. His hand dropped to my shoulder, anchoring me into the moment.
“Close your eyes if you feel comfortable,” the woman rasped. “Begin to notice your breath. No need to change it. Just notice. Let the sound guide, move through you.”
She struck the first metal bowl. It was a deep, resonant tone that echoed inside of my ribs. My fingers drummed on the thighs of my crisscrossed legs. I circled my head, cracking the pressure in my neck. My eyes darted between the people feeding into the sound waves rippling through the dome. Another tone reverberated around the room. Then another. Higher this time. Lighter. The vibrations danced up my spine like fingers brushing each vertebra.
I tried thinking of something else. My residency coming to completion. My fellowship gearing up in a few weeks. My patients I’d be leaving behind. With every thought, the soundpulled me back, dragging me into its lull of complacency. Not forcefully. Just…insistently. Like water dripping against stone, forging valleys in mountains that existed long before our time.
My fingers began a rapid tapping against the soft knit fabric of my dress. My manicured nails dug into the gaps of each stitch, threatening to pull threads from delicate yarn. Khalil’s hand rested atop mine, stilling the movements. I felt him scoot closer, the warmth of his chest smoothing over my back. The scratchy coils of his beard tickled the crevice of my neck as his chin rested there. His heart beat methodically, in tandem with the ringing of the bowls by the woman centering the group.
Minutes passed, but it felt like hours. Time melted, as did my body against Khalil’s grounding.
My breathing slowed.
My jaw unclenched.
I didn’t realize I’d closed my eyes until the healer’s voice returned, soft as the wind.
“When you’re ready, begin to wiggle your fingers. Invite your body to return to you.”
I blinked.
The dome was still there. The crystals. The flickering lanterns. The air felt fuller. My skin warmer. My thoughts…quieter?
Khalil didn’t say anything as we stood and stepped out into the desert night. Stars blanketed the sky above—cold, clear, impossibly close.
“So, tell me, are we in a cult now,” Khalil joked.
“Shut up, Big Head.” I smirked back, rolling my eyes even though the tug in my chest felt otherwise.
