by Marie Harbon
I can’t do this, I can’t leave my home.
A sense of panic overtook her and Tahra found herself yanked back into her body. When she opened her eyes, she found Paul watching her intently.
“I did it,” she whispered, eyes feeling wet with tears. “I almost touched the moon.”
For some reason, Paul wanted to share her emotional reaction to the experience. Something amazing was happening…they were destroying frontiers, all due to a project he’d believed in and initiated. However, it would have been nothing without Tahra. She was an amazing woman.
After wiping the moisture from her eyes, she enquired, “Where do we go next?”
Paul reclined in his chair, feeling his vision take shape.
“We start to check out our space neighbours.”
Tahra took a deep breath, still aware of her profound experience in space.
“For you, anything.”
He reached over and kissed her on the forehead.
“What would I do without you?” he wondered aloud.
***
Later that night, after Tahra had returned to The Institute, Paul rang Max. He seemed delighted to receive an update concerning this new venture.
“You have results so soon? Or do you just like the sound of my voice?”
“I know she’s good, but not that good.”
Max seemed amused, in a good mood.
“How’s it working out with her anyway?”
Paul considered the answer then replied, “Well, she’s not shy is she?”
To Paul’s surprise, Max fell strangely silent on the other end of the line.
“Tahra is confident of her abilities,” he responded after a pause.
“Certainly,” Paul agreed, “she’s also positive someone saw her while in an out of body state.”
Again Max paused. Paul wasn’t sure if he disbelieved her statement, or whether he was worrying about the ramifications.
“That’s impossible,” Max replied.
“Well, she’s adamant. She doesn’t understand it herself but she claims an astronaut saw her through the window of his capsule.”
“This is certainly an unforeseen development, isn’t it?”
“It occurred to me that you have a lot of contacts in various research departments. Is there any way you can verify or counter her claim? Identify any reported anomalies from the flight?”
“Yes, I can do that. I’d like an answer too.”
“Thanks, just let me know when you hear something.”
“I will. Oh,” Max added as an afterthought, “I’m having a party for New Year, a masquerade ball. You’re invited.”
Paul expressed his reticence.
“I’m strictly faithful to Eleanor, I don’t want to get involved in…”
“It’s just a fancy dress party. I can suggest a good costume shop for nightly hire. You can bring Eleanor.”
“I will,” Paul said. However, he paused and made a further request. “Would you allow Tahra to go too?”
Max replied after another period of silence.
“Yes, I don’t see why not.”
“Great. See you New Year’s Eve.”
After putting the phone down, it occurred to Paul that he’d just invited the two central women in his life to the same party. Why had he done that? In the end he shrugged. Tahra had the right to party, and she couldn’t miss out on the celebrations. What was the problem?
***
New Year’s Eve arrived, and Tahra had the jitters as she changed into her ball gown, a cream and gold dress that had a tight bodice and full skirt, framed with lace. It pushed her breasts upward and flattered her milk chocolate skin. A gold mask added the final touch, almost Egyptian in its design, and she viewed her reflection in the mirror.
It occurred to her that she’d be attending a party with the two central men in her life, one she still resented although he provided a magnetic allure, and the other who she admired and respected. Would this present a precarious situation tonight?
Max’s Daimler and driver dropped her off at his coach house, and she found it difficult to exit the vehicle with such an enormous costume, but managed to push the hooped part of the skirt through the door of the car.
For a long moment, she stared at the exterior of the house: its general size, the pretty symmetry of it, and the large garage. Approaching the imposing, oak front door, she heard the guests and music already.
A door attendant greeted her, she gave her name and he stepped aside to allow her entry. Tahra received her first view of Max’s home. It wasn’t as ostentatious as she’d pictured it, in fact, it seemed quite traditional with oak furniture and antique pictures on the walls. So this could have been her home too if they’d married as planned. She felt a tinge of regret, but a relationship revolved around more than just luxurious surroundings.
She wandered into the living room through the large archway. The sight of numerous unrecognisable people confronted her, wearing an array of flamboyant costumes, finery, and elegant masks. It felt like stepping back in time to the French courts or Venetian balls of the 16th century. Some people had masks with towering headdresses, comprised of feathers and glitters, which made her own costume pale in comparison. One man wore a jester’s outfit, and proceeded to provide the comedic entertainment. She heard boisterous laughter over the medieval themed music, and watched the guests consume copious amounts of champagne.
However, Tahra couldn’t mistake Max. Resplendent in a green brocade costume, he wore a dragon’s mask and stopped his conversation briefly when he noticed her. She felt a sensation in her stomach like being disembowelled with a medieval implement of torture. All that hurt, all that yearning, and the image of him servicing that woman from behind imprinted onto her memory… Tahra turned away to seek Paul.
After a brief meander, she located him, engaged in conversation with some anonymous male. Paul wore red brocade, complete with the mask of a lizard or salamander. When he spotted Tahra, he beckoned her over and introduced her to his associate.
“Ralph, this is Tahra, a truly gifted friend.”
She almost winced as he said ‘friend’, although he placed no specific emphasis on it. After some polite conversation, he split off to accompany Eleanor for a while, and Tahra glanced over in their direction. A pang of jealousy washed over her and she tried to swallow it the best she could, hoping no one witnessed her staring.
Not wishing to appear the shy wallflower, Tahra circulated amongst these strangers, asking men to dance with her. Throughout the evening, she became aware of Max watching her discreetly from behind his dragon mask and she met his gaze, disturbed to find her heart skipped a beat.
Eventually, she found herself at a loss, feeling awkward due to standing alone. Max seized the opportunity, sidling up to her and placing an arm firmly around her waist.
“I’ve been waiting to dance with you all night,” he said.
She lowered her eyes to avoid his gaze, although didn’t refuse the company. They began to dance, and she found it strange to touch him once more.
“How’s my star remote viewer?” he asked. “You’ve been working on the OOBE project for a few months now. How are things progressing?”
“I’ve seen Italy from orbit, and the Earth from the shadow of the moon,” she responded, deciding to accept his attempts to befriend her again. We’re producing some pretty ground breaking results.”
“You mean, you’re producing some pretty ground breaking results. Make no bones about it, there’d be no project without you.”
Tahra blushed at his admiration.
“There’d also be no project without Paul’s initial vision,” she countered.
“Don’t denigrate yourself,” Max pointed out. “I know what you’re capable of. You get most of the work requests and actually have a waiting list. Don’t question your potential.”
“I appreciate your faith in me.”
He drew her a little closer, and she felt his grip around her waist tighten.
She became aware of the alcohol on his breath, maybe the reason he’d plucked up the courage to face her.
“You believe in this project, don’t you?” she asked.
Max began to steer her towards the periphery of the crowd, which enabled them to hear each other easier.
“I’ve been in this business long enough to know there’s more to life than this…material world in which we dwell. I’ve personally experienced an event…” he paused here and checked himself. “I see miracles all the time, as I’m surrounded by unimaginable talent on a daily basis, but you’re the star here, by a long shot. You’re truly unique.”
Tahra found it difficult to know how to respond to his compliments, and smiled awkwardly.
“Allah must have brought me into the world for this reason.”
“We all have a purpose, a secret vision,” he commented. “You seem to be working productively with Paul. It’s a coincidence, my two outstanding talents working on the same project…. “
She wondered whether he was fishing for information about a possible relationship with Paul, but then she told herself that was just paranoia. How could Max know of her intentions? However, she preferred to keep those a secret.
“Although I’m not a scientist, Tahra, my interests do lie in furthering understanding and breaking boundaries. However, unlike a scientist, I don’t believe that everything must be measured. I’m aware that to really prove something, some degree of measurement is required, but that should never obstruct the most fundamental cosmic truths, especially as amazing qualitative experiences can leave such a deep impression on our consciousness.”
She briefly stopped dancing, convinced that something pivotal had happened to Max that changed his whole perception of the world.
“You’ve had a spiritual experience,” she stated, longing to know more about it.
A strange expression came over Max’s face, as if he were remembering something that stimulated a yearning, a craving for that experience to happen again.
“Please,” Tahra continued, “tell me.”
He opened his mouth but no words flowed, then finally he said, “It’s in the past, there’s no point in discussing it.”
Tahra realised he’d never share the most significant experience of his life with her. Would he, in fact, share it with anyone? It frustrated her, as it probably held the key to everything.
“Your experience is the inspiration for The Establishment and The Institute,” she said, with certainty.
Her shrewd observation didn’t surprise him, and he removed his arm from around her waist. Taking her firmly by the hand, he led her to the hallway and placed a coat around her shoulders.
“Come,” he said.
Max took her outside into the garden and they began to walk together, away from the maddening crowd. She wondered why he’d removed her from the congregation, although she valued the opportunity to clear the air, despite her deep seated anger towards him. Maybe he’d reveal something, apologise for his despicable behaviour…
After a short silence, he picked up the thread of the conversation.
“I want to understand the secrets of the cosmos more than anyone, but I have my life as a businessman, which is a necessity. None of this,” he gestured to his estate, “would be here if it weren’t for that fact. Some things are a means to an end, things…I’m not proud of.”
Would he finally share his secrets with her?
“What things are you not proud of?” she asked.
At that point, he looked at her with a fleeting expression of terror.
“Things you should not concern yourself with,” he said, in a direct albeit not rude manner.
Tahra sighed, wishing this didn’t feel so much like fighting a losing battle.
“I’m just trying to protect you,” he responded.
“Protect me from what? I want to understand you,” she pushed.
Max stopped and now he began to look frustrated.
“Are you sure you want to understand me? Would you like what you found? Why can’t you be content with what you can see?”
Tahra looked at him intently.
“Because what I can see runs deep, I can see into the heart of a person and if I perceive darkness in a man’s soul, then I need to understand it before I can accept it. I need to find forgiveness.”
He exhaled with exasperation, and reached out with his fingers to touch her cheek.
“What are you afraid of?” she asked him.
The fear became apparent behind the mask, his plan beginning to fall apart.
“Why did you bring me out here?” she asked.
“To resurrect what we had,” he answered, moving closer to her. “To offer to share with you what I have in this world.” He looked for her response, although her expression exposed little of the nature of her thoughts. “This home…it could all be yours too,” he continued, “you’d never want for anything. I’m a rich man, but I’m also a rich, single man. Tonight has made me realise that I need you in my life again. Do you need me in your life again?”
Behind her gold mask, Tahra closed her eyes, aware of the residual attraction she’d been repressing. True, he had a lot to offer, but would it be a terrible mistake? Did she trust him?
He took advantage of her hesitation and moved in to kiss her. She reciprocated without persuasion and felt her body respond more intensely than before, like a drug addict succumbing to their worst vice. However, despite what her most primitive emotions told her, the image of Max servicing the woman from behind reared its ugly head. She couldn’t forget…she couldn’t forgive. This wasn’t a kiss to resurrect a relationship, it was a goodbye kiss.
Withdrawing his lips from hers, he looked for a reaction.
“So, what is it to be?”
The words of resentment, disgust and heartbreak jammed in her throat, and because she didn’t immediately accept his offer, Max began to feel frustrated. After a long silence, Tahra took a deep breath.
“Love cannot be bought, it has to be earned. You speak as if nothing terrible ever happened between us.”
Max’s stance altered to one that seemed more belligerent.
“Any other woman would have married me long ago,” he pointed out, clearly losing his patience.
Tahra narrowed her eyes.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not any woman.”
Max found it hard to remain tolerant.
“What more do you want, Tahra?” he asked, brow furrowing, words expressed with more vehemence.
“I want a man who respects me, who doesn’t hide things, who…doesn’t think with his penis! I want a man who isn’t afraid to show who he really is, who admits when he’s wrong, who…”
She choked back the tears, and began to move away from him.
“I…” he began, although didn’t continue.
Tahra lifted the skirt of her dress and strode away, humiliated by the tears that stung her eyes.
How dare he insult her by expecting her to drop everything and fall at his feet because he had riches!
How dare he gloss over what he’d done!
How dare he express indignation at her reaction when his own sordid deeds had broken her heart!
She stormed up the path, fighting back the heaving sobs that threatened to let all the hurt spill out. Passing a stone statue of a crouching gargoyle, she glared at it and without thinking, she pushed it hard and it fell over.
A minute later, she found herself amongst the congregation again, the warmth air hitting her skin after the interlude outside. She stood still, trying to regain her composure and in her bewilderment, someone came to the rescue.
“I’m sorry, I’ve barely paid you attention all night,” Paul said.
Tahra released all her hurt and broke into a relieved smile.
“It’s…okay.”
She hoped he didn’t notice how her voice faltered. Because she didn’t want to draw attention to her emotionally charged state, she made a decision.
; “Dance with me,” she said.
Tahra steered him to a space, and he took up a stance neither too intimate nor too aloof. Glancing over, she noticed Max had re-entered the room and he stood like a deer caught in car headlights. Tahra shot him a look that projected daggers, and turned her attention back to Paul, trying to quell the internal conflict that raged within her.
As they danced and made polite conversation, it occurred to Tahra what she truly wanted in life. Two diametrically opposed men had entered her life, one an angel and one a demon. She closed her eyes and savoured the sensation of Paul holding her, and soaked up his warmth, wisdom, and kindness. After that brief moment of revelation, she opened her eyes and made a resolution. She had something important to tell Paul.
“Can I speak to you about something?” she said.
He stopped dancing, a little concerned and replied, “Of course, is there a problem with the project?”
Tahra took his hand and led him through the house, checking that Max hadn’t noticed. Thankfully, he’d become engrossed in conversation with someone in a purple tailcoat. She and Paul wandered onto the patio area at the back of the house and sat on a wall. Tahra removed her mask and without thinking, Paul did the same.
“What did you want to speak to me about?” he asked her.
She didn’t answer straightaway, and took a deep breath.
“Well, kind of,” she began. “It’s just that…”
Oh, what the hell…
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” she said.
Paul didn’t respond. Rather than dismiss her declaration, he actually seemed to be genuinely touched by her words, as opposed to simply being flattered. She looked at him in expectation, but he didn’t know what to say.
“What are you thinking?” she asked him.
Paul opened his mouth to speak, but still nothing issued from his lips.
“I can’t pretend I don’t,” she added. “Please tell me you feel the same.”
Finally, he responded, still fighting to express what he truly felt.
“Tahra, I’m in a relationship with Eleanor, a happy one.”
She felt her heart sink at his response.
“So, you’re happy with her?”
