I’ve never learned to drive. Living in Brighton, where most things are walking distance, there didn’t seem a point. That’s what I told myself and anyone who questioned my avoidance of such a common rite of passage, but now I wonder if, on some level, I chose not to learn because I loved the experience of having Alexander drive me. He’s a great driver, never more comfortable than when on the road – distance, traffic, nothing fazed him. In the early days he would often give me a ride to work or drop me off on a night out. Once, I had gone to a festival a couple of towns over with Cara. She’d hooked up with a guy, a bassist in a Danish death metal band, and being the good friend I am, I gave up my space in our two-man tent and told her I would get a cab home.
Of course, every taxi in the area had been booked weeks in advance and I was faced with a very long wait or an even longer walk home. I called Alexander with the dying embers of my phone battery; gave him sloppy directions to the edge of the field I was standing next to and somehow, through sheer will or possibly an intangible connection, he found me. I don’t remember what he said to me on the drive home – I was more concerned with the way my brain seemed to be running laps within my skull – but I remember the feeling, the warmth of knowing he had been there to save me.
When ‘Young Hearts Run Free’ fills the car, I feel compelled to join in. I’ve always loved the song, mostly because so many people think it’s fun and upbeat, when in fact the lyrics are desperately sad.
‘I didn’t know you could sing,’ says Tashi. I feel myself blushing.
‘I can’t, not really,’ I say.
‘Oh, OK,’ she says.
I ask Tashi how she got into Tula Shiki and request a little more information on where she’s actually taking me. ‘Tula is a philosophy,’ she says. ‘Its basis is in minimalism and self-contemplation. The retreat is based at its main centre. My ex, Guido, got me into it. He’s such a centred man, so introspective. He taught me a lot.’
Tashi explains that she met Guido when he was running a workshop on her university campus entitled ‘The Fast Path to Simple Living’. ‘I needed to pay off, like, five credit cards but I got so much more.’ Tashi tells me that she found herself blown away by Guido’s presence and intensity; apparently his lack of investment in material objects gave him a sense of freedom she found highly desirable. Guido was a former model and having experienced a life of excess, he understood its limitations. Hearing about his previous profession, I wonder if it was just his freedom she desired.
‘So why did you break up?’ I ask. Tashi inhales slowly through her nose and then exhales loudly from her mouth.
‘I guess he had too much love to give,’ she says.
‘Is that possible?’ I ask.
‘Sure,’ says Tashi. ‘When you have so much you need to share it around several people, it’s too much.’
Tashi tells me, as though relieved to unburden herself, an age-old story of empty beds and unanswered calls and how women are so ridiculously adept at ignoring the patently obvious. She tells me that a few weeks into their courtship he had taken her to a party. She remembers taking great care over her outfit – she wanted, so very much, to live up to the moniker of his girlfriend. The party was the sort that Tashi found intimidating – a crowd of older people with interesting stories – but Guido’s friends were warm and inclusive and she quickly found herself having a good time. She was listening to a guy tell her about a recent trek through Peru when she got the sense that Guido was no longer with her, not emotionally, but physically. She excused herself from the conversation and searched the apartment. She remembers opening a door to find an empty broom cupboard before she started to panic. She wanted to leave. She wanted to go home and eat ice cream and cry but to do so would be to accept the fact that he had abandoned her. When Guido returned two hours later, she confronted him. He told her she was being hysterical and that he had just stepped out for a cigarette, and she accepted this despite the fact that he didn’t smoke.
When she was forced to face the truth, it was on the screen of Guido’s open netbook. An email from a girl stating in uncompromising detail what he had done to her and what she would very much like for him to do to her again. The time stamp offered no escape route for him. The message, read but not deleted, was offered up to her so carelessly that it was clear that Guido either wanted to get caught or did not care if he was. When she asked him, calmly and clearly, what his explanation was, he said, ‘We didn’t say we were exclusive.’ Tashi had given up her room in a shared house just three weeks prior to move in with him.
I sympathize with Tashi and reassure her that we’ve all been there because it’s true. Alexander never cheated on me, not that I know of, but he had shown me in many ways that he was biding his time, and even if he was not with someone else he was certainly not with me.
Once we had taken a holiday to Ibiza. I had obsessed over it for weeks. I was so determined to make the trip perfect I even went to a travel agent, rather than picking it on some low-cost website, and had been bedevilled into paying for a load of unnecessary, barely noticeable extras. As holidays often are, it was a disappointment – we were too old for the party scene but not old enough to admit it. We spent most nights pretending we were going to hit the clubs and then getting drunk in the hotel bar. There was one day, though, that we made it to the old town. We wandered the cobbled streets for hours and I kept imagining that other tourists would look at us and marvel at how beautiful and in love we were. We found ourselves at Café del Mar, a stunning waterside bar known for its amazing atmosphere. It was one of the few places I’ve been to that has lived up to my expectations. The bar is the place to be at sunset, when the resident DJs play ambient sounds to complement the unbelievable view. Thirty minutes before the sun went down I asked Alexander if he wanted another beer. ‘I’m kinda hungry,’ he said. ‘I fancy paella.’ I placed my hand on his knee.
‘Let’s hold off,’ I said. ‘I think I’m happy here.’
‘Sorry, babe,’ said Alexander, sounding anything but. As we left, another couple eagerly scrambled into our seats. How could I have imagined I would make him stay for a lifetime if I couldn’t get him to commit to a sunset?
My phone stirs.
Undeterred83: Are you OK?
I decide it’s time to start being open.
Marthashotbod: I am now I’ve heard from you.
Undeterred83: That’s great. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. What you up to?
Marthashotbod: I’m going on a journey.
Undeterred83: I’d love to be coming with you.
Marthashotbod: Maybe next year?
Undeterred83: If I play my cards right?
Marthashotbod: You’re holding aces right now.
‘You wanna stop for supplies?’ says Tashi.
We stop at a shop in a tiny village, run by a woman who clearly wants it to stay that way. She serves us with such open hostility I start to reassess my hair, my clothes, even my gait for evidence of their contemptibility. Tashi seems oblivious to her blind hatred and babbles happily as she buys toilet roll, water and nuts.
‘Hi, Mary,’ she says. ‘Had a lot of us coming through?’ Mary’s face offers nothing. ‘I’m so excited to see you again; you’re like the start of my awakening every time I arrive.’
I think Mary is going to comment but she simply coughs productively, leaving her mouth uncovered as she does so. I replicate Tashi’s shopping, although as she leaves the shop, stating plans to warm up the car, I add three Bounty bars, and then just before paying I ask the woman to get me four of the miniature brandies she has behind the counter. This seems to defrost her, and she winks at me before slipping the bottles into the bottom of the bag. I thank her and hurry back to Tashi. As I’m leaving, Mary speaks for the first time. I can’t exactly be sure what she says but it sounds like, ‘You’re gonna need it.’
The Tula Shiki Education and Resource Centre is located behind a small copse of fir trees. From the road it looks like an outdoor centre, the ki
nd Scouts might frequent to learn skills they will never require in a modern world, but as we drive closer to the collection of buildings I see figures dotted about in the trees and pathways. Adults, some dressed in robes, others in fun, stylish clothes; but all wearing the same ‘ready for Armageddon’ smile that Tashi also sports. After parking the car, we are met in reception by a woman with waist-length grey hair who introduces herself as Sunbeam.
‘Welcome, welcome,’ she says breathily. She shuts her eyes for several seconds and, just as I am growing concerned she is having a stroke, she leaps back to life, like a mechanical doll. ‘I’ve just got some medical forms for you to fill in and then I’m pleased to tell you you can have a sitting with Larry.’ Sunbeam offers us two wooden chairs as she goes to fetch the paperwork.
‘Who’s Larry?’ I whisper to Tashi.
‘The guru!’ says Tashi.
‘A guru … called Larry?’
‘Yes,’ says Tashi, ‘and we’re really lucky that we get to see him so early on!’
Sunbeam comes over with the forms. It’s mostly standard health stuff; I try to make myself sound like a functioning human. I pause at the emergency contact section, a place where Alexander’s name used to live. I shake my head to see off any burgeoning tears and write ‘I need nothing and no one’ in the space, but then I cross it out and put down my mum. Sunbeam returns to take our forms.
‘Can I also have your phones,’ she says. Tashi is busy rooting around in her bag and so cannot see me staring at her in stunned silence. When she hands her mobile to Sunbeam I still haven’t moved. Sunbeam watches me with a fixed smile.
‘I can’t,’ I say. ‘I … I have a son.’ Yes, the child card, I think. No one can argue with that one.
‘It’s fine,’ says Sunbeam. ‘All the calls are monitored and if there’s an emergency we’ll get you immediately.’ Very briefly I consider running and then I feel a bit ashamed about how ridiculous I am being. For the first half of my life I didn’t have a mobile phone; I will be fine. I hand my iPhone to Sunbeam and in return she gives me a small bow. ‘Leave your bags here and someone will take them to your room. Larry will see you now.’ She gestures for us to head to a door across the reception. Tashi gives Sunbeam a bow of her own before rushing over and I quickly follow, unsure of what is scarier – going with her or being left alone.
Inside the room heavy curtains block most of the light but a few candles illuminate Larry’s brown, lined face. Although it is cold he is wearing a light tunic and sandals. He nods very slightly to us as we enter. Tashi sits cross-legged on the floor in front of him and I follow suit. ‘Welcome back,’ Larry says towards Tashi.
She claps her hands over her mouth. ‘You remember me,’ she squeals through her fingers.
‘All my students have a piece of me in them,’ he says.
I know the enlightenment process has already started; otherwise how is it that I’m able to resist giggling at this unfortunate statement?
‘You,’ says Larry, his head whipping in my direction, ‘you have lost something.’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ I say.
‘Yes, I think you have.’ I can actually feel Tashi’s eagerness radiating on to me. Clearly, she has something to contribute to the conversation. She doesn’t know about Alexander so I’m keen to know why she is so confident that I’m a loser. I glance at her.
‘You lost your key, remember,’ she whispers.
‘Right, yeah, but I found it again.’ I turn to Larry. ‘It was under my bed.’
‘It always is,’ says Larry. ‘I think there’s more, though.’ I can feel myself colouring. ‘Not to worry, you will find something here, even if it is not what you have lost. Be open.’ I nod.
‘Can you show her the way?’ he says to Tashi.
She grabs my hand. ‘Of course,’ she says.
‘You should probably eat less meat,’ he says. ‘Your energy is stagnant.’
Tashi squeezes my hand. I look at her and she raises her eyebrows. Her eyes say, ‘I told you so.’
‘I must encourage you to go for replenishments now.’ It takes a few seconds for us both to understand we have been dismissed and we stumble a little as our bodies try to catch up with the realization.
‘He likes you!’ cries Tashi as we walk towards an outhouse that serves as the kitchen.
‘How can you tell?’
‘I can tell,’ she says. ‘My first meeting with him, he didn’t even speak.’
I grab Tashi round the waist. ‘The problem is, I’m not sure if him taking a shine to me is a good thing or a bad thing.’
‘Oh, it’s the best thing,’ says Tashi, reciprocating my gesture.
When we reach the kitchen Tashi asks Brett, a bearded Welshman with a gentle manner and questionable tattoos, for our ‘assignment’.
‘You’re on potatoes,’ he says. He hands each of us a small raffia sack. I follow Tashi into a vast vegetable patch.
‘Just fill it, you’re not supposed to talk,’ she says before falling to her knees. I think about my Bounty bars. I wonder if I say I’m going to use the toilet I’d have time to go and snaffle one. I look at Tashi pulling away soil, the wind licking her hair into her face, and I decide to try to be open and embrace the process. I start digging tentatively but I quickly discover that my bag will never be full this way and so I increase my fervour, pushing my fingers into the cool mud, fearless in the face of earthworms and other mini beasts. After a few minutes some more people join us. I look up and acknowledge them but I don’t break the rules by saying hello. When I’ve filled my bag, rather than returning my haul to Brett, I help the others fill theirs. One woman appears to be in her seventies; when her bag is full she grabs my hand and kisses it. Her lips are so cold and so rough and yet so comforting.
We all carry our potatoes back together. ‘You’ve definitely earned your supper, sweetheart,’ says Brett, taking my sack. He exchanges it for a steaming bowl of vegetable stew. Tashi, the rest of the potato pickers and I sit together on the wooden benches that line the kitchen. We eat in satisfied silence. The meal, though small and lacking in seasoning, tastes wonderful. When I try to work out why, it occurs to me that I may never have been truly, physically hungry before.
Tashi and I have been put in a room on the first floor of the centre, from which you can see miles and miles of unbroken green from the window. I could not live more than five miles from the nearest Marks & Spencer but it’s nice to step outside your own life from time to time. Our room has three single beds; one is already occupied by a woman with cropped, grey hair. She is lying on top of the covers and dressed completely in white – even her socks. I cannot tell if she is sleeping or meditating but either way it does not seem like the right time to make introductions.
Tashi and I brush our teeth in the small sink in the corner of the room before getting ready for bed. As I change into my pyjamas I sneak a glimpse of Tashi doing the same. Her legs are thin and undefined, almost colt-like. The little weight she carries has settled around her middle and although not overweight she has a rounded tummy. It’s nice; it’s womanly and also sort of childlike. I can tell by the way she wiggles quickly out of her clothes and aggressively pulls on her oversized T-shirt that she has no idea how beautiful she is.
We lie in our beds facing each other. ‘How are you doing?’ asks Tashi.
‘I’m good. No, I’m really good,’ I say.
‘That’s wonderful,’ says Tashi, ‘I knew this would move you.’
‘I kinda feel like I’m on a school trip.’ I can’t quite make out Tashi’s face but somehow I can feel her smile. ‘Which isn’t a bad thing.’
‘Mmmmm,’ says Tashi.
I can hear that she’s only clinging to the edge of consciousness; perhaps that’s what gives me the courage to pause and say, ‘I wasn’t honest earlier. I have lost something … someone. I’m getting a divorce.’ It’s the first time I’ve said this word out loud in relation to Alexander and myself. I’m relieved to find the experience is l
ike getting a jab; all the pain is in the anticipation. ‘I thought I had lost my husband but I’m starting to think that maybe I had already lost myself a long time ago. Maybe he was just, I don’t know, collateral damage or something … Tashi … Tashi?’
A voice that does not belong to Tashi says quietly but firmly, ‘Shut the fuck up.’
12
I DREAM THAT Alexander and I are getting married and it’s our wedding day, but I cannot find one of my shoes. I search frantically for it, mussing my hair and snagging my dress in the process. I beg my friends and family to help me look but they dismiss me. The church bells chime. I stop my search, take off the other shoe and start running. My anxiety is eased by the sound of the bells fading into the distance. I can hear the wedding guests calling after me but I ignore them until …
‘Martha, you’ve got to get up!’ It’s Tashi; I’m not getting married, I’m the furthest thing from it. When I open my eyes, she’s leaning over me grinning. ‘We have yoga.’ Yoga, I can handle yoga, it’s just lying down with good PR. I sit up. Our roommate has already gone to spread her positive karma elsewhere.
‘What time is it?’ I ask.
‘Five,’ says Tashi. I lie back down.
‘That’s the night, Tashi,’ I mumble. Tashi pulls the duvet off me.
‘It’s not,’ she says, ‘it’s the beginning of a brand new day!’
Yoga is led by Sunbeam. She sits at the front of the hall, her eyes closed and her legs folded into a pretzel. Tashi immediately takes a position at the front of the room but I hang back – I don’t need a room full of people staring at my arse. Sunbeam rings a little bell which seems to be the signal for everyone to assume the same position and I do the same. She starts making a series of moaning sounds; I look round to see if anyone else is trying not to laugh but they all appear to be going to their happy places. After a few minutes Sunbeam stands and raises her arms, followed by everyone else. She then starts a series of movements accompanied by foreign phrases. Everyone else joins in with her without question and I try to recall the details of an article I once read about cults.
The Reinvention of Martha Ross Page 8
