How long can I survive in this hot, airless room?
The thought nearly undid me. I sagged against the door, weakness and fear overwhelming me. Seconds dragged by. Minutes. The temperature of the room hadn’t decreased much. The air felt like it scorched my throat and lungs. It hurt to take it in, but I had no choice but to inhale. I realized that while I’d been wet with sweat before, my skin was now dry. I’d grown so dehydrated I couldn’t perspire anymore. My tongue and lips felt parched and swollen.
Fear pounced, holding me at its mercy.
I was twenty-three years old. I had never really considered death with any seriousness. Now, I felt like it’d latched onto me unexpectedly. A haze swam across the dim room. I was blacking out. I found I didn’t have enough energy to care overly much. I realized I was sinking toward the floor.
Was this really how things would end? They would find me shriveled and desiccated, dead on this wood floor? It seemed ridiculous. Pitiful.
Evan’s face leapt into my mind’s eye, the vision shockingly realistic, as if he stood in front of me… as if I could touch him.
I won’t get to say goodbye to him.
I heard a raspy sound of protest, and realized it was coming from my own parched throat.
Distantly, I became aware that I sat on the floor now, my back against the obstinate door. How much time had passed? Again, I was uncomfortably aware of how fast my heart beat in my chest,
as if I were running the race of a lifetime.
It can’t keep going like that. It will give out soon in sheer exhaustion.
My towel had slipped off me. I could feel a sliver of cool air against my upper buttock and lower back. It came from the crack beneath the door, I realized with the barest glimmer of excitement. I told myself to move, but nothing happened. My limbs were like lead posts.
I forced myself to conjure up the image of Evan again.
With a gargantuan effort, I heaved myself onto my belly. Fingers digging into the wood planks of the floor, I managed to scoot forward several inches. I put my mouth to the crack under the door and drank in the cool air from the changing room in wild desperation, my lungs heaving. It felt divine, intoxicating… almost as glorious as the idea of chugging down a glass of deliciously cold water.
I opened my eyes, still sucking madly with my lips pressed to the bottom of the door. The crack beneath it was tiny and nearly indistinguishable. Nevertheless, at such close proximity, I could make out two distinct shadows beneath it, two obstructions blocking the light from the changing room.
They were shoes, I realized in dull amazement. Someone stood just on the other side of the door, inches away from my lips.
As I stared, the shadows wavered and then vanished.
I inhaled more air. Minutes passed, as I tried to decide if the cool, refreshing blasts of oxygen had restored me enough to get off the floor.
The door swung outward. Light and cool air washed over me.
“Anna? My God, Anna? What happened?”
I recognized Valeria’s anxious voice, even though the light had blinded me, and I couldn’t see anything but her small, quick shadow kneeling in front of me.
“Door was blocked. Someone was holding it shut,” I tried to say, but my words came out like I had a mouth and throat stuffed with sandpaper.
Valeria wanted to call an ambulance, but refrained when I demanded that she just help me to sit down in the changing room. The next thing I knew, she was handing me a glass of water and pressing a cold washcloth to my head. I’d never tasted anything so good in my life as that water. I handed her the empty glass, and she immediately went to get me more out of the water dispenser, and then more again.
After several minutes, the haze of misery that had enveloped me began to loosen its clutches. Valeria asked if I thought I could stand to get into the shower. I agreed, and with her help, made it over to one of the two shower stalls. Once there, my legs shook from weakness. Fortunately, there was a shower seat to which she guided me.
Cool water rushed over me, bringing down my body temperature. I sat there for I don’t know how long, fisting the ledge of the seat, my head down and my wet hair streaming down around my face.
Finally, I lifted my head, feeling reasonably comfortable for the first time in what felt like an eternity. I stared up at Valeria. She stood in the shower stall with me. She was every bit as soaking wet as I was, but fully clothed, her face pulled tight in wild concern. I gave a bark of regretful laughter.
“God, Valeria, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you—”
“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “Anna, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I said automatically. I took a few seconds, focusing on my body. My skin felt cool, my heart had stopped its crazy, dangerous charge into the unknown. I shuddered, recalling how I’d wondered while I was stuck in the sauna how long the organ had before it just stopped from sheer exhaustion. Fear had made me exclusively, repulsively aware of my heart and its function, more so than I’d ever been in my life.
More so than I ever wanted to be again.