Chapter 15
“You have got to be kidding.”
The group that I am having a sound bath with is—none other than Watson and Associates Landscape Architecture Firm.
“Nooo,” Ellis says with a groan. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
I can’t even be surprised at this point. “Joshua Tree is apparently the tiniest desert in the entire world.”
Everyone’s taking off their shoes in the giant dome we’re sitting in.
When Marcella told me to book a sound bath, I almost dumped her as my best friend.
Born and raised in L.A., with magical powers to matchmake people, I hate all this woo-woo stuff.
But she said it was like taking the most relaxing nap of your life. With strangers? I had asked.
What if it isn’t strangers, though? Is it relaxing then? IS IT?
There are mats placed at the perimeter of the dome with various-sized quartz bowls placed in the center.
They’ll be “played” by people holding drumsticks with padded ends.
Think of running your finger along the rim of a glass and the sound that it creates—sound baths kind of feel like this concept at heart.
We’re directed to pick a mat and then lie down.
The only mats available for me and Ellis are next to Daniel. Oh my god.
And, of course, I end up sandwiched between them.
Daniel shoots me an inscrutable look before he plops onto his back. Ellis winks at me before he lies down.
I stare up at the ceiling wondering what the hell my matchmaking gods are thinking. Soon, the sound bath begins. This entails all of us being encouraged to close our eyes and just let the sounds and vibrations of the bowls wash over us.
For the first few minutes, you can hear and feel everyone’s shifting bodies. Some giggling here and there. I am so aware of the two men beside me that I’m surprised I’m not spontaneously combusting from the pressure of it.
But then something clicks—I feel a lull take over me. There’s this feeling I love, that I’ve had since I was a little kid. Lying so still, in such a comfortable position, that you no longer have any awareness of where your limbs are. It’s like you become a bit of a ghost.
I feel my surroundings disappear. The din of the drums fills my ears, the vibrations are in my bones. And in this state, I can imagine my blood is slowing down, that I am becoming a ghost.
It’s not dissimilar to when I see someone’s past life. I’m here but I’m not, and I’m not somewhere else, either.
But then I sense the two men next to me. On my left, the warmth coming from Ellis, the pureness of it. It electrifies me. On my right, the heat coming from Daniel. The mystery of it, the allure. It makes me curious.
I exist between these two states of being for a second and forever.
And then, suddenly—I feel a familiar tug. I open my eyes and I’m in a quiet, candlelit room. I peer around and it looks like an old Korean house, with wood-framed paper doors and wood furniture low to the ground. What the hell, am I in a past life? Whose?
Then one of the doors opens, and a man steps in.
The air is sucked out of my lungs. It’s Daniel. His warm brown eyes look into mine and he says, in Korean, “There you are, wife.”
And I feel it then—the history, the love between us. The easy intimacy. The protection and safety I feel near this man.
He brings in a tray of tea, the porcelain clinking gently as he lays the lacquer wood tray down between us.
The scent of barley wafts up and its familiarity makes my eyes sting.
Halmoni has made this tea for me countless times in my childhood, bringing it up to my room with cut fruit while I did homework.
An easy silence settles between us as he pours the tea into our cups, elegantly and with practiced precision.
The soft clinking and liquid sounds are hypnotic.
Am I here, can he see me? This isn’t like any past life I’ve been in before and I can’t tell if I’m dreaming.
Just as Daniel lifts my cup to me, I can hear a baby cry out, and when Daniel’s eyes dart to the door, I am thrown out of the vision.
I snap my eyes open. Everyone is stirring around me.
“Best nap ever,” someone says with a yawn. Scattered laughter.
Holy shit. Did I just see my own past life? My heart is thumping, and I am trying to act normal when I turn my head to the left and see Ellis watching me with a softness in his eyes. “You look cute when you sleep,” he says in a whisper.
“I wasn’t asleep,” I say, trying to sound normal even though I kind of want to scream and run out of here. He looks a little concerned by the tone of my voice, so I say, “But, hey, why were you watching me? You were supposed to be in the sound-bath zone.”
“Honestly, that was just intensely weird,” he says, still lying down. “I had to open my eyes before I astral projected or something.”
Bro, you have no idea. I push myself up to a sitting position and look over at Daniel. Surreptitiously. Something about him seems agitated. Did he have a similar vision? No, it’s impossible.
I must have been dreaming. I’ve had these two guys on my mind nonstop for the past twenty-four hours. But then I remember the sound of the baby’s cry, and I feel lightheaded again. Did we have children together? What did this all mean?
When we leave the sound bath, I wave goodbye to the crew. “See you guys in five minutes at wherever we all end up somehow,” I say and everyone laughs. Ellis walks me to my car, and for the first time, I feel burdened by his attentiveness. How long will I drag this out?
“Hey, sorry if I made fun of the sound bath,” he says when I get into my wagon. “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk.”
“Ellis, you are never a jerk.” I put my seat belt on.
“Absolutely not true,” he says, his arm draped over the car door, his body stooped to talk to me. His hair falls into his eyes. “We’re totally crashing your birthday trip in every way possible. You need a vacation from your vacation.”
“See you later,” I say, sitting back in my seat to look up at him. Already saying my goodbyes.
He leans in and kisses me, softly, softly.
“Drive safe.” Then he shuts the door and watches me as I drive away.
The pull in my ribs—it stretches the farther I drive away from him, the connection between us fighting what I have to do.
It feels wrong. But that’s my own fault for letting this whole thing with Ellis happen in the first place.
I only have myself to blame as I swipe at the tears on my face.
—
I spend the rest of the day alone, wandering some vintage shops and visiting an outdoor art museum by an artist named Noah Purifoy.
Each art installment is left out to face the elements of the desert, and the rust and decay become a part of the story.
It’s weird and fascinating and exactly the right way to spend this birthday time, which often passes in surreal swathes mixed with reality.
I grab a burrito for dinner and eat it sitting in the trunk of my wagon, parked on a scrubby slope where I have a spectacular view of the sunset. The sky is a blush pink for a few minutes, and I enjoy my food with a cold beer, a lime squeezed into the neck of the bottle.
Before the night is over, I’ll need to end things with Ellis. This is clear. It’s unfair to keep this going just because I enjoy it.
And whatever happened in that sound bath—past life or no—it was telling me something. Pushing me toward my fated. Enough is enough.
I have big, big regrets about burdening Ellis with my tragic backstory. It was a step in the wrong direction. Even if, at the time, it felt so right.
A bean drops into my lap and I stare at it, feeling sorry for myself.
My dread of this interaction feels new. My entire life—I’ve known I’d end up with the right person. I just had to be patient. I don’t stress about the big questions because in a way I’ve always known the answer. The universe has a plan.
A breakup was a breakup because I was over it. The romance had died.
So this, this dread is different. I don’t feel over it, even in the face of my fated.
The romance with Ellis isn’t dead. It’s a baby spark that I need to snuff out.
And I have to ignore the terrible feeling that accompanies this shitty task ahead.
The feeling will be temporary, I remind myself.
Because me and Daniel? It’s the real thing. The table has been set for us.