Chapter 33
HOLLY
The hard-packed dirt floor of the temazcal provides a hint of relief from the escalating heat in the small stone sweat lodge.
The shaman pours another cup of water onto the firepit in the middle, sending a hiss of rosemary-scented steam into the tight space, made tighter by the five bodies spread, as much as it’s possible to spread, around the perimeter.
The humidity is turning my curls into a mess of a nest not even a bird would find appealing. But Anna had insisted that leaving it down would make Zoe happy. With my other hand, I wipe a layer of sweat from the back of my neck.
On my left are Anna and Zoe. Well, not exactly Zoe. Anna senses my wandering attention and takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. We both look down at the urn resting between us.
To my right, a young couple from Norway are lost in meditation. At least they’re finally quiet. The entire twenty-minute walk to the temazcal was non-stop chattering. Worse than the spider monkeys in the trees around us.
I fidget and glance at the entrance of the hut, where a heavy blanket is trapping the heat and my anxiety inside.
Anna catches my sideways glance and scoots closer to me. “Can we leave? I can’t do this.”
“We’re doing this for Zoe. Now let go of your stress.” I shimmy into a more comfortable position and force my eyes closed in the hope that serenity will be hiding behind my eyelids.
“They’re going to know,” Anna hisses in my direction.
I give my head a slight shake, not wanting to draw attention to us. “They won’t. It’ll be fine. Breathe, find your happy spot.” I feel her glaring at me.
“How is this going to be fine?” She’s not finding her happy spot.
I exhale and turn to face Anna. “For one, we have the urn. We’ll be the ones scattering the ashes.”
“Two?” I can tell she wants to trust me.
“Two, we’ll own our actions. We did what Zoe set out for us.”
“But, Holly…” Anna squeaks with nerves.
“Shhhhh,” the shaman breathes out, making it sound like part of the meditation, but she’s staring at us.
“Shhhhh,” I repeat to Anna. Then under my breath I add, “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
For a whole forty-five seconds, Anna settles into the breathing exercise the shaman is leading us through.
“Do you know what the plan is for the memorial service?” Anna leans closer, whispering over the hiss of steam as the shaman pours more rosemary-infused water onto the fire.
“Nothing more than you do.”
Zoe must have planned it out the way she’s planned everything so far, but this wasn’t included in the final letter.
“Shhhhhh.” The shaman glares at us, and to the group, she says, “Breathe in through your nose, welcome the happy memory into your heart, let it fill you, let it comfort the wound that needs healing.”
Anna rocks left then right, repositioning and recrossing her legs. She places her hands on her knees, palms open and facing up. The perfect meditation stance. Except for the wide eyes that keep darting to me and the pinch to her lips.
“Happy memory, think of something happy,” I instruct.
“A happy memory is not going to solve this. They’re going to find out,” she grumbles.
“For god’s sake, Anna. Relax.”
I’m suddenly aware that the temazcal has gotten eerily quiet. There’s no humming from the Norwegian couple, no breathless instructions from the shaman, not even hissing from the fire. Three sets of eyes are turned on us and not in a friendly, sympathetic way.
“Perhaps the healing ceremony is not right for you at this moment,” the shaman says, standing and pulling back the blanket covering the opening.
“We’re being thrown out?” Anna protests.
“Healing only comes when we’re open to it, when we can release the negative energy.” The shaman’s eyes dart to the urn then, with a touch of compassion, she says, “Come back after you’ve released the genie.”
I uncoil my legs and force myself to stand, feeling shaky and light-headed. “Please, we’ll do better,” I say, giving Anna a get-with-the-program grimace.
“I think another time will be better.” The shaman waves us out and lets the blanket drop behind us like two kids booted out of camp.
“What just happened?” Anna asks, wide-eyed.
“You got us thrown out of a healing ceremony.” I close my eyes and inhale the muggy heat of Mexico in August. Think, Holly, think. “Don’t you have an appropriate Luxe Vacations Tip for this kind of situation?” I ask.
“Ah, no. This is not a scenario I ever expected to come across.”
“Well, now you have, so come up with something.”
“Why me?”
“You’re the travel expert.”
“You’re the control freak.”
My mouth drops but instead of a snarky response, I start laughing.
“Have you lost your mind?” Anna squawks, which makes me laugh harder because I’m the one who’s supposed to be uptight here, not Anna.
“Yes,” I say, pulling myself together. “Let’s take a walk before we have to meet Zoe’s family. This is going to be a shit-show.”
“Holly!”
“Oh, don’t Holly me.”
“I thought you said it would be fine.”
I straighten and roll my shoulders back, pulling the mass of curls off my neck. “It’s all about how you sell it. We’re going to march ourselves over to the spot Zoe picked and we’re going to send our friend off with the most heartfelt goodbye anyone has ever had.”
I turn and walk in the direction on the map, or at least I hope it’s the direction on the map. A second later, Anna catches up to me.
“I’m still nervous.”
“Me too,” I admit. I tuck the urn back into Anna’s bag and continue toward Cenote Zapote Ecopark where Zoe has arranged for us to meet with her family.
With each step I feel the weight of the urn minus Zoe and the expectations Mr. Whitmore emphasized when he’d laid out Zoe’s plan. We follow the path to the left, per the map, and where Leo had drawn an X to mark the spot, is Zoe’s family.
“Anna, Holly.” Leo steps away from his parents and grandmother and gives us each a kiss on the cheek.
Where his parents and grandmother are dressed casually in rich linens, he’s wearing board shorts and a T-shirt.
His outfit is still finer than Anna’s and my sweat-soaked bathing suit cover-ups.
“Trip was okay? You haven’t answered my calls or texts.
” He dips his head to catch Anna’s eyes.
“Sorry, Leo, we’ve, um, it’s been a bit hectic.” Leo and I both stare at Anna and her un-Anna-like response.
I want to tell her to stop acting like she’s on pins and needles. Sweat pools between my boobs from the heat of the Mexican summer and having to face Zoe’s family. Because, no, I’m not at all sure that we can pull this off.
“It’s good to see you,” Mrs. Whitmore says, joining Leo in the cheek-kiss exchange.
Grandma Whitmore eyes us suspiciously, raising a manicured brow when Leo gently takes Anna’s elbow, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary as he turns them toward his grandmother.
I notice how he angles his body slightly toward Anna, his thumb making a small, reassuring circle against her arm.
“Well, well,” his grandmother says under her breath but loud enough to make everyone turn to look at her.
Well, well indeed.
Leo doesn’t flinch at being called out over the gesture, and all eyes noticeably widen when he draws her incrementally closer. If Leo’s intentions weren’t clear before, they are now. He cares deeply for her, which makes me happy for them both. Zoe and I both know Anna feels the same for him.
Our dear friend didn’t just bring Anna and me back together. She also brought her brother and Anna together.
Well done, Z.
“Grandma, you remember Zoe’s best friends, Holly and Anna?” Leo does the pleasantries.
“I do. I remember everything,” she answers with a cluck that could have been amusement or disgust.
“What are we supposed to do?” Mrs. Whitmore asks, her eyes on the urn in Anna’s bag.
“Well.” I take charge since Anna seems to be stranded in oh-shit mode.
“At each of the locations Zoe selected, we took a minute to remember a happy memory with Zoe before releasing a bit of her ashes. Most of the time we just whispered a goodbye, but since this is the last time, we could all say something.”
Next to me, Anna releases a strangled gasp-sob.
“Say what?” Mr. Whitmore asks, seemingly taken aback that there will be speeches.
“Whatever we’re feeling. Maybe something we loved about Zoe that we wanted to remember.”
“That sounds lovely,” Mrs. Whitmore says, her hand fluttering to her throat.
“Shall we?” Mr. Whitmore motions for us to move to the side of the path where there’s a bench positioned in a half-moon bump-out. He fidgets with his jacket which he’s slung over his forearm. “We have dinner reservations and an early flight tomorrow.”
Anna’s head whips around, her eyes big as she mouths, “Dinner?” Zoe hadn’t mentioned dinner with her family. Then again, maybe Mr. Whitmore didn’t mean dinner with all of us.
“Um, who wants to start?” Anna says, sending me a pleading look.
“Why don’t you two just say something. I’m sure it’s what Zoe would have wanted,” Grandma Whitmore says, giving her son and daughter-in-law warning shots with her bright blue eyes.
“Oh, okay. Holly?” Anna says, reaching into her bag and handing me the scoop we’ve been using. We were using. I wave her off. We don’t need it this time.
I squeeze my eyes shut and say a silent plea for this to be over quickly.
When it comes time to unscrew the top of the urn, though, I can’t bring myself to turn the lid.
This will be the last goodbye. This marks the end of a trip that’s been a rollercoaster of emotions.
Anna and I have come a long way, and I’m grateful for that.
I’m more at peace with myself than I’ve been in years.
Maybe Zoe had a point about the healing ceremony, even if we were evicted from it.
And while I know Zoe will live in my heart and my memories forever, I’ve come to rely on having her with me, as perverse as that sounds.
Anna takes the urn from me and unscrews the top and we make eye contact. Mrs. Whitmore mutters a prayer, but her words are muffled from the roaring in my ears and the “for heaven’s sake” Grandma Whitmore mutters not so discreetly.
I catch Anna’s gaze and, as though we’d rehearsed it, say, “Be with Ava. We love you, Z.”
And with one smooth gesture, I flip the urn, releasing the final farewell to Zoe.
“What the hell?” Mr. Whitmore roars as ashes along with a cigarette butt and beer bottle cap sail into the air.