Destined to Play, Feel, Fly Trilogy

by Indigo Bloome

  I return his gaze. I have been through so much this past week. He has asked me and pushed me to do many things I’d never even imagined, let alone dreamt I would do … am I going to argue with him about wearing this precious piece of jewellery? I can sense how important this is to him.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ As if I’d ever say anything else. ‘It’s so beautiful. What do these symbols represent?’

  ‘The Gaelic letters for anam cara. It means “friend of your soul” or “soul companion”.’

  My heart swells and I quickly swallow to suppress the deep emotion threatening to swamp me. Our eyes lock and for a long moment we exist in a place full of energy, yet serenely peaceful. I know I belong to him and him to me. Without further words, I extend my arm to him.

  ‘Thank you, Alex. May our souls smile in the embrace of our anam cara.’

  He places it around my wrist and as he seals the clasp shut, I hear a strange computerised noise. Once again a perfect fit. Not too loose, not too tight, but unable to be slipped over my hand should I want to remove it. I feel undeniably connected to him in every way and am delighted with this physical symbol of our love.

  ‘What was that noise?’ I can’t help but ask.

  ‘It is digitally encoded, sealed around your wrist both physically and electronically and will enable both Sam’s and my teams to access your location 24/7 should anything unforeseen occur. It was important to me that you were happy to wear it willingly before that happened.’

  Well, I hadn’t considered being connected to him quite as pragmatically as this.

  For quite some time, I sit contemplating this precious piece of new ‘techno’ jewellery, embracing — or perhaps entrapping — my wrist. My mind flicks back to when I did some work for Argyle pink diamond mines in Western Australia and the precautions the company took to ensure the safe delivery of these precious gems from the mine to Perth. Several dummy flights per week occurred so no one knew which flight would carry the actual diamonds — the most rare and expensive diamonds in the world. Now I sit staring at their chips embedded in the bracelet. It really is incredible to consider the lengths and expense companies go to in securing their assets. Just when I thought this Alice in Wonderland adventure was coming to a close, now this. My stomach tumbles with emotions. Strangely, no questions flood my mind, just a quiet acquiescence. I sit before him consciously breathing and unconsciously stroking the silver bracelet.

  We return to the treehouse many hours later after attempting to wash away the more sinister ‘what-if’ scenarios of our future in the ocean. It appears to be just the tonic we both needed.

  Our last night is significantly more subdued than our previous evenings. We sit comfortably in silence, embracing each other for a long time, absorbing the impact of the path we have finally chosen together. Our conversation is limited, yet our connection is thick with emotion. Our lovemaking has heightened to an intensity that takes on an almost spiritual meaning, as we bask in the awareness that our lives have been irrevocably altered as a result of this experience. We both understand the significance of not knowing what life may become when we leave Avalon. There is an irresistible edge to our unknown fate. Sleep lasts for a mere few hours, as we lay lovingly entwined in each other’s bodies.

  As luck would have it, the morning is heavily overcast. When we take off in a private plane, I am given no clue to the terrain below as it is blanketed with clouds and mist until we rise above it into stark sunshine. I’m aware Jeremy is an exceptionally resourceful man when he wants something; I had no idea that resourcefulness extended to the weather. I don’t know if we are flying above water or land and he won’t budge on telling me the whereabouts of Avalon. He assures me that the less I know, the safer I’ll be and that must be his priority. We hold hands the entire flight. At some stage, I doze off, resting my head on his shoulder only to wake up as we commence our descent and our imminent separation.

  We hug with deep passion and I shed a few silent tears before I disembark from the aircraft. I don’t want to leave his embrace but I know I must. Apparently my luggage will be automatically forwarded and loaded onto my flight to Hobart. Jeremy is continuing on the plane, eventually making his way back toward Boston.

  As if on autopilot, I settle in for the flight home, grateful for the empty seats beside me. I attempt to assimilate everything that has happened in the last week, the potential risk of my involvement, and the future of my family life. It is almost too much for my brain. I bend down to place my boarding pass in my handbag and notice a thick envelope in there. I open it up and find a note in Jeremy’s handwriting.

  To my gorgeous Alexandra,

  I thought you might like to look at these now so you can see more clearly the woman I am in love with. Don’t forget her when you return home, she means the world to me.

  Take care, my love, until we meet again.

  Safe travels.

  J xo

  To say that I’m shocked to see the photos in front of my eyes would be the understatement of the decade. Could this person really be me? I leaf through them slowly.

  Lecturing on Friday afternoon at the Great Hall

  At lunch with Samuel and his research team

  Arriving at the hotel lobby, hair up, looking businesslike

  In the red dress, blindfold on

  Sitting on the rooftop, blindfolded and cuffed

  Singing and playing the guitar

  Another in a leather jumpsuit and boots

  Two leathered bodies, riding on a motorbike

  Skydiving, freefalling

  Driving, happy with sunglasses in a black convertible

  Floating naked in blackened waters

  Hooded, cloaked body with leather straps

  On the beach, swimming with Jeremy

  Dressed, as I am now, for the plane journey home

  It is amazing to see these images compared to the ones I have in my mind. The blindfold seems to mask my nervous tension and my body looks like this undeniably sensuous creature soaking up every experience. The prints have a warming effect on my physiology; I hug them close to my chest. Who would have thought I was this person?

  I reflect on the question I couldn’t answer Jeremy during our time together: ‘Since when does motherhood give you permission to deny your sexuality?’

  Who would have thought I had been denying myself all these years? Who would have thought it would take something as extreme as being blind, questionless and open to psychological, physical and neurological experimentation on the limbic system for a weekend to reignite the sexual passion within me? Only Jeremy, of course.

  I enter my home and greet my gorgeous children as though nothing has changed in the world, but secretly knowing everything has. I hug them long and tight and love them more than I ever believed possible.

  I decide it is now or never. My week with Jeremy has sealed my fate and I am committed to having the discussion with Robert that I’ve been putting off for years. I organise for my sister to look after the kids so we can go out to dinner together. I don’t want to have this discussion at home, but equally I question whether we should be out in public. I have been running through scenarios in my head about the best way to begin such a sensitive discussion.

  I needn’t have worried so much. It seems that he has wanted to talk about our marriage as much as I have. I tell him about being with Jeremy and how it has impacted me. How I can’t deny his presence in my life any longer. I don’t mention my role in the experiment. Robert sits silently across the table as I wait for an emotional response to provide a clue to his thoughts. I am shocked when I see relief. Not anger, not tears, but relief. He eventually explains how he has been struggling with his own sexuality for years, always trying to talk himself around. Not wanting to have the conversation with me because I’m a psychologist and he didn’t want his wife analysing him before he had worked things out for himself. And he didn’t want to hurt me, or our children. He tells me he too, can no longer deny this part of himself, that h
e needs to explore and investigate, to discover whether or not he is gay. He believes he is.

  I am sitting across from him wondering how my news is going to impact on him and he responds with this! It certainly explains our lack of a sex life. How could I have missed this? I can’t help but deliberate on how I would have accepted this revelation had I not had my time with Jeremy. It would have been crushing, I imagine … but now, well, somehow it makes everything potentially possible where it was impossible just a week or so ago.

  We open up to each other more in these hours over dinner than we have for the past five years. Our conversation flows and we engage with each other on a level that stems from respect and friendship. I can understand why I was attracted to this man who sits before me, the father of my children. He is a good man with a good heart. It’s just that we don’t share each other’s hearts any more.

  We resolve to make this work for our children and to continue to support each other. It feels like a giant weight has been lifted off our burdened relationship and we are free to engage in the lightness of life again. We smile. We hug. We move into separate rooms under the same roof. We are happy with this arrangement in the short term. The kids notice our change in spirit and we all laugh more than we have in years.

  A few days later, just as Jeremy had promised, I receive a letter inviting me to become a member of his global research forum.

  Dear Dr Blake,

  I hope this letter finds you in good health. I would like to formally invite you to become a member of our private research team specialising in developing a cure for depression. Your specific skills and expertise are required for the role of psychology lead for Project Zodiac, working closely with a number of accredited medical researchers and practitioners.

  As you are aware, this project is highly confidential and will remain so for at least the next twelve months. You will find attached a comprehensive confidentiality agreement, which must be signed before further information and background can be released to you. As our research progresses we may be in a position to publish our results over the next two to three years, when your significant contribution to our studies will be formally recognised.

  The research is predominantly part-time at this stage and accordingly, we are hoping you can accommodate it with your existing university workload. I have personally taken the liberty of speaking with your dean, who has pledged his support in this regard. You will also be required to attend several international conferences, the first one being held in London next month, details of which are outlined in the attached documents. Payment for your services will be considerable and agreed upon, in person, in the next fortnight.

  Your academic credentials, professional background and recent research experience are of paramount importance to the success of this project moving forward and we truly value your unique contribution. Thank you for taking the time to meet with us and we look forward to a fruitful, amiable and productive relationship over the coming years. We very much look forward to welcoming you to the team.

  Yours sincerely,

  Lionel McKinnon

  Chairman

  My stomach flips as I finish reading the letter; waves of excitement and apprehension are competing for attention in the lower part of my body. Colour instantly floods my cheeks. The letter in my hand looks so official, so noble, its sexual undertones cleverly disguised. I unconsciously caress the bracelet around my wrist.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Robert looks up from reading the paper.

  I notice my hand trembling as I pass him the letter to read.

  ‘This is about the research you discussed with Jeremy?’

  I nod.

  ‘Fantastic news, congratulations! You have worked so hard, you deserve this.’ He kisses my cheek. ‘This calls for champagne.’

  I can’t help but wonder what I have done to deserve the men in my life.

  Epilogue

  Here I am, sitting in first class, which is another thrilling new experience, waiting on the tarmac for take off. I would never have thought in a million years this could be happening to me. I feel like I am steadily becoming the person I was always meant to be. I am so excited about seeing Jeremy again. The butterflies in my stomach are still there, just like before I met him in Sydney, but this time they are big and colourful and I welcome their presence as they let me know I’m vital and alive.

  My mind wanders off to the other day when I was working around the city at lunch time. I was walking past a store selling saddles and stirrups, when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a riding crop. Intense emotions ricocheted with such ferocity through my entire body, I was momentarily blinded and breathless as I leaned against the cool glass pane of the shop window. I had been erotically winded! The continual internal low-key buzzing I had acclimatised myself to since my return immediately ramped up to electrifying vibrations from my clitoris to my nipples. I was eternally grateful for padded bras as I found myself gasping for air as heat, like liquid gold, seared my private parts. One of my students, who just happened to be passing by, stopped to ask if everything is alright and whether I needed any assistance. Even though I nodded that all was well, she stood before me for a full minute, wide-eyed, before I regained enough composure to assure her I was perfectly fine and send her on her way. God, if she only knew. I’m desperate to talk to Jeremy about having these psychophysical ambushes occurring at a single sight, sound or memory of the weekend. One part of me is mortified by these happening in public, but I’m fascinated as to what could trigger another episode and eagerly anticipate the next experience.

  My flights are seamless; no delays at Singapore and finally I arrive in London as scheduled.

  I walk through the swinging doors at Heathrow and notice a chauffeur standing with my name on a placard. What a pleasure it is to travel like this. We exchange greetings as he takes my luggage.

  When we arrive at the black sedan with the door open, there is another man standing beside it dressed in similar attire.

  ‘Good morning, Dr Blake. Welcome to London.’

  ‘Good morning. Thank you, it’s great to be here.’

  I smile as he opens the door for me and the first man takes care of my luggage. As I settle myself in the back seat ensuring I have everything, I hear my name being called from somewhere in the distance behind me. As I look over my shoulder I am stunned to see Jeremy and Samuel running toward the car. What on earth are they doing here? I didn’t think they were due in until late tonight. I wave my hand in surprised recognition as the driver’s assistant suddenly shoves the door closed and bolts into the front seat. I see the panic in Jeremy’s and Samuel’s faces as they run toward me. Just as I am about to ask the driver to wait for them, the car surges forward and I am flung across the seat. I ask them to stop, telling the driver that I know them. Jeremy is now running after the car, banging on the back windows. I try to open my window to speak to him, but there is no button. The window tint turns black and I can’t see his face any more. The door is locked and as I turn around to look at the driver, a blackened barrier rises between the back and front seats. I scream and bash on the door and the glass. We are speeding up. I start to tremble as the memory of Jeremy’s agonised face is etched on my brain. I fumble for my phone in my handbag, only to find there is no service indicated. I don’t understand any of this. I am in a blacked-out car with no phone reception. Who are these drivers? I bang on the windows screaming at the men, trying to make sense of what is happening. I try to open the doors, check both of them, bang my palms against the black tint of the windows. What is this about? Suddenly I feel woozy, faint. Then I don’t feel anything at all …

  DEDICATION

  For my husband, whose support since this wild ride began has been nothing less than sensational

  CONTENTS

  COVER

  DEDICATION

  PREFACE

  PART ONE

  PART TWO

  PART THREE

  PART FOUR

  PART FIVE
r />   PART SIX

  PART SEVEN

  PART EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  ‘Do you ever feel like you were destined to play?’

  ‘Only in my dreams…’

  Play: engage in an activity for enjoyment or recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose, by humans or animals

  Feel: to perceive or examine by touch, be conscious of experience, to have a sensation of something other than by sight, hearing, taste or smell

  Preface

  If I had known then what I know now, would it be any different?

  I’m not sure why or how my life changed so dramatically so fast, yet it continues as if nothing has changed at all. It began with one weekend that perhaps, in hindsight, should never have happened, but deep in my soul I have a vague nagging that it was always meant to be…

  This leaves me embroiled within a psychological and sexual tornado that landed without any advance warning or forecast — or maybe I just missed the signs? Either way, what has happened, has happened, what will be, will be. I just don’t know how it will end, or whether I will survive the journey.

  PART ONE

  Care about what other people think and you will always be their prisoner.

  — Lao Tzu

  Alexa

  Here I am, sitting in the first-class lounge, which is another thrilling first for me, with my complimentary glass of Taittinger and snacking on lime-infused salt and pepper calamari. I lean back on the plush sofa and gaze around at the clean, modern lines of the room, with its subdued lighting and every convenience imaginable. Life is good. No, life is great, incredibly great. I can’t help but feel a little bit mystified as to how well everything has worked out. Robert and I are getting along famously now that we have finally been honest with each other about our feelings. We’ve been really focused on the kids together and I’ve no doubt it has been beneficial for them. They are the quintessential happy little vegemites and it just makes me smile. I wish I could say the same for some of my girlfriends, who are in a state of frenzied anxiety at the sudden change in my lifestyle. Admittedly, it is definitely a weird turn of events to return from a work trip with a new (old) lover, separate from your husband yet still live happily under one roof and suddenly have an international career to meld into your everyday life in Tasmania. Even thinking about it like that seems unrealistic and too bizarre for words. So I understand why a small, close-knit community would want to discuss such a scandalous state of affairs. However, I can’t say the harsh, sarcastic edge of some of their statements about my ‘illicit’ weekend away doesn’t hurt. Worse still is the snickering and whispering in huddled groups and the raising of eyebrows when I walk past to drop Elizabeth and Jordan off at school. The unspoken word is what kills me the most. Why can’t people just be upfront and stand by their convictions; or alternatively keep their opinions to themselves and say nothing instead of attempting to garner an undercurrent of bitchy gossip at the school gate?