Chapter 8: Under Pressure

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On Sunday, Ali spent almost the entire day in her suite doing what she rarely allowed herself time for otherwise. 

After sleeping in, she stayed in her pajamas to read a book she'd bought months earlier until her upset stomach would finally allow her to eat. Not wanting to discuss last night's events—or face anyone human for that matter—she took food back to her room before re-watching the last season of The Expanse on Netflix. And in a fit of what must have surely qualified as temporary insanity, she not only willingly called her mother but also didn't mind listening to Grace ramble on about which of her friends was getting divorced next.

Finally feeling relaxed and somewhat caught up with life, Ali was ready for company by the time the nightly bonfire was in full swing. Holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows, she sat around the burning logs shoulder to shoulder with other guests she hadn't yet taken the time to get to know. The experience was eye-opening. Although the faces were the same as those from the lakeside a day earlier, the atmosphere was completely different.

The glowing embers crackled, sending sparks into the starry sky as people talked, laughed, and sometimes even cried. Their stories—whether deep, personal revelations or lighthearted anecdotes too strange to have been true—were universal. 

Soft-spoken Lin was a biotech company founder whose recent epiphany regarding the questionable ethics behind his company's research gave him hives every time he went into the office. The much more boisterous Crash, who earned his living as a mixed martial arts fighter, was now taking time off between seasons to resolve his bouts with anxiety-driven insomnia. Malika—who admittedly hid tear-streaked cheeks behind perfectly applied makeup—was a Dallas socialite who needed support for a few weeks each year around the anniversary of her late daughter's tragic murder, while life-of-the-party Lars was still trying to decide whether to fully transition to Lara. 

All in all, love and loneliness, success and failure, indulgence and deprivation were common themes uniting the individuals huddled around the open fire pit and reflecting on their reasons for being at Pebble Creek.

Staying silent, Ali wasn't ready to participate so freely, but she showed her support with genuine smiles, sympathetic tears, or enthusiastic pats on the back to those who shared their stories. Emotionally drained in spite of not having done anything physical all day, all she could do was fall into bed by the time she returned to her room.

Sleep, however, eluded her. Perhaps she was over-rested, or her body was getting used to the now properly administered medication, but Ali's mind couldn't shut off. She tossed and turned for hours, picking apart every random thought that entered her consciousness. Whether it was the amount she'd tipped her driver or that she hadn't given her assistant a proper good-bye, the only common thread was the blame she placed on herself for not being good enough.

She seemed to have just drifted off when her alarm rang, signaling her scheduled early-morning yoga class. Not in the mood for a zoo-ful of animal poses, Ali skipped the session, vowing to go at the next available time. When she finally rolled out of bed, she took an awkward shower—she still wasn't comfortable with holding her cast out of the way and washing with one hand—before dutifully sitting at the desk.

This wouldn't do. She'd only been here for a few days and she was already falling out of line. If she was going to get through the next month, she needed to approach her stay in a more organized manner.

Pulling out the complimentary pad of paper and finding a pen, she used the in-room brochure and Liz's prearranged itinerary to plan her time at Pebble Creek. By the time she'd filled three sheets front and back with a detailed schedule ranging from massages and marshmallow roasting to sailing and wild mushroom collecting, Ali felt more like her old self than she had since the accident.

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