Deep Surrendering: Episode Six by Chelsea M. Cameron Page A

didn’t know what the right answer was. This wasn’t a test where I could look it up in a book. And I could ask a hundred different people, and I’d get a hundred different answers.
    Chloe sighed and reached for my hand, giving it a squeeze. “I think you need to take a minute and get some perspective. You’ve clearly been thinking about this a lot, and all that thinking has gotten you nowhere. So I think it’s time to stop thinking for a while and do something else.” The waiter came and brought us menus and took our drink orders. I wasn’t hungry, but I ordered lunch anyway.
    As I sipped my Arnold Palmer, Chloe made a phone call.
    “Yeah, Bridget?” she said in a pitiful voice. “I’m not going to be able to come back in this afternoon. No, I think I had some bad clams or something. Oh God.” She took the phone away from her mouth and made a fake puking noise, much to the disgust of everyone sitting around us. I covered a snort of laughter with my hand.
    “Sorry, I just … It’s pretty disgusting. Okay, okay. See you tomorrow.” She made more puking noises then set her phone down with a grin of satisfaction.
    “There. Now I’ve got the afternoon free. What about you?” I did as well. My two classes were having review sessions for tests, and I studied so hard last week that I wasn’t worried at all.
    “Free as a bird,” I said, and she clinked her glass with mine.

C hloe’s grand plan was … unorthodox. She took me to the aquarium.
    “Just trust me,” she said as she bought our tickets and then led me forward.
    God, I couldn’t remember the last time I was here. Not in years. My parents hadn’t been big on trips like going to the museum or aquarium or theme parks. Once again, they considered those things “common” and avoided them, for the most part. I always thought it was because my mother hated being in places where there were too many children. She wasn’t a big fan of kids in general. She hated it when parents let their children run wild, or even when kids would just get excited about things. She was one of those people who had the whole “children should be seen and not heard” mentality. Yeah, she definitely should have become a parent.
    Chloe led me through the different rooms. The whole place glowed blue with light from the tanks. The currents of the water made patterns on the floor, and everything was all mysterious and lovely. I had to admit, I did feel more peaceful.
    Ignoring most of the exhibits, she took me straight to a tank that was filled with small translucent jellyfish. She plopped me down on a bench and sat beside me.
    “Whenever I have a big decision to make, or I’m so stressed out I want to explode, I come here and sit.” A group of kids from a school went by, but they were soon distracted when someone announced they were going to be feeding the penguins. Then it was just me and Chlo.
    We sat and watched the jellyfish swim with their little movements that were jerky and graceful at the same time.
    “I wonder what it’s like to be a jellyfish. They don’t have bones or brains or hearts. All they do is float,” Chloe said. “Some days I wish I could just float and not think about anything.” Her voice was hushed, as if she was worried about disturbing the creatures in the tank.
    “That would be nice. No responsibilities. Nothing else to do,” I murmured.
    “But it’s all they ever know. Floating. They spend their whole lives like that. You’d get sick of it.” Chloe turned and looked at me. Things had taken a turn for the existential. Were the jellyfish a symbol of me? Or were they a symbol of what I could be? I wasn’t sure.
    “Stop thinking so hard. That’s one of your problems, you know. You think about things too much. The jellyfish doesn’t need a brain to know how to float. They just do. They know,” she said.
    “And we know that they know that we know,” I said, hoping she would pick up on the old Friends reference.
    She grinned at me. “I