The Final Bubble Bath
I decline champagne, but I partake freely of the bacon-wrapped scallops and shrimp cocktails. The last year has led me on quite the journey. I took it freely, but I am at its end. The stories are told. The battles are ended. I will soon start another journey, returning to a path from which I was diverted. Though I am eager to rectify this, I’ve one final conversation before I go on my way.
A fanfare echoes through the white, limitless room. The celebrities line themselves up in two rows, and double doors of stone stand at the far end of their ranks. They applaud me as I walk past. I hear “Congratulations” and “Bravo,” and I wonder if I have truly earned these words. Maybe he will have the answer. Perhaps my friends do.
The stars fade away when I touch the doors. I push them open into a tiled chamber, at the center of which lies a pool of warm water, four feet deep and 15 square. And there he is, once again. This voyage began here. It’s only fitting that it also end in this place.
I step into the pool, and my bathing suit becomes suddenly heavy with water. I sit on the shelf around the edge and try to relax.
“Hello again,” says Neil Gaiman.
“Howdy,” I reply.
Neither of us says anything. He’s going to wait for me to speak first, because somehow, he always knows what to say. I wish I knew how to do that.
I sigh as the water’s heat seeps into my skin. “It’s over.”
Neil Gaiman nods. He’s always nodding at me. “And you’ve no regrets?”
I shake my head. “No. I needed this.”
“You did. And you believe it helped?”
“Immensely.”
He smiles. “So you’ve learned?”
“Yes. I’ve learned a lot.”
“Excellent.”
Silence again. I always use silence when I write. It’s powerful.
“It doesn’t get easier, does it?” I ask.
“That depends.”
“On?”
“You. You needed to be motivated, didn’t you? You had to give yourself deadlines. Hold yourself accountable.”
“True enough. But how does that—”
“It all depends on you. That’s all I’ll say.”
When he rises out of the pool, he’s dressed in a black shirt, black jeans, and a long, black coat. He nods at me again. He walks right through the wall, and the room around me blows away like sand in the desert.
This has all depended on me, after all.