Fearless

by Fiona Higgins

  Cara’s expression was difficult to read in the dim light. After an extended silence, she turned towards Annie. ‘Do you ever think about what Kevin would want you to do, without him?’

  ‘All the time,’ replied Annie. ‘Especially when I consider … going on a date or something, with another man in a Stetson.’

  ‘What actually happened to Kevin?’ asked Janelle, emboldened by the darkness. ‘Was he sick?’

  ‘Lord, no,’ said Annie. ‘He got bitten by a rattlesnake. I spent years feeling angry with him for being so stupid—I mean, he must’ve done something to aggravate it. The venom load it injected was huge. It killed him before he could even drive back to the homestead for help. Our farmhand found him sitting upright in the pickup.’

  ‘No wonder you’re afraid of snakes,’ observed Cara.

  Annie nodded. ‘Kevin became a statistic, and my life changed overnight. It’s never been the same since—I’ve been mourning him for twenty years. So I know how you feel, Cara.’

  ‘And you haven’t … had another partner at all, since Kevin?’ ventured Janelle.

  ‘I’ve kept myself too busy for a relationship.’ Annie smiled. ‘This vagina spa is as intimate as I’ve been in years.’

  They all laughed once more.

  ‘A few men have sniffed around at church,’ Annie continued, ‘but I’ve never felt ready. Kevin was a good man, a kind man—and they’re hard to find. It’s a cliché, but it’s true. Probably a bit like your Richard, Cara.’

  Janelle nodded, thinking of Nick. The epitome of an advertising executive—driven, handsome and funny, but devoid of that crucial quality, kindness.

  ‘I’d like to meet a kind man,’ she blurted. ‘And have a baby.’ Inexplicably, she thought of Remy, then castigated herself for it. She barely even knew him.

  ‘There’s still plenty of time for that,’ said Annie. ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Twenty-nine,’ Janelle replied. ‘But it takes time to get to know someone, right?’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said Annie. ‘Kevin and I only courted for three months before we tied the knot. That was decades ago, of course. But sometimes you’ve just got to take a risk and follow your heart.’

  Janelle smiled wistfully. ‘So the fairytale does exist?’

  ‘Until your handsome prince gets bitten by a snake,’ said Annie.

  They watched the smoke curling around them.

  After a while, Janelle spoke again. ‘Do you still miss him?’

  Annie grunted. ‘Of course. Here in Bali, I’m surrounded by so many people, but I still feel isolated. Maybe it’s the fact that I can’t speak Indonesian, maybe it’s because they’re strangers, mostly. I don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘I could go home to California, but I’m an empty-nester; there’s nothing to keep me there, really. At least the animals at BAF need me.’

  Janelle felt suddenly sorry for the older woman. ‘There’s got to be love out there for you somewhere, Annie.’

  ‘Love’s overrated.’ Annie laughed. ‘Unless you know of any fellas who want to cosy up with a fat American?’

  ‘You’ve got truckloads of charisma,’ said Cara.

  ‘And your hair is beautiful, Annie,’ added Janelle. ‘You always look like you’ve just stepped out of a salon.’

  ‘Well, I’m a bit of a fixer-upper.’ Annie sounded as if she didn’t know quite how to handle these compliments. ‘So, what happened to Richard? Are you still in touch?’

  Cara hesitated. ‘After the accident, he wanted us to stay together. But I needed space, so I … ran away, I guess, to Bali. He tried to call me regularly, but every time I heard from him, I started grieving all over again. After I got into yoga, I rang him. We had an honest conversation, and I asked him to stop contacting me. To his credit, he respected that. Now he only makes contact for things he can’t avoid—insurance renewals and that kind of stuff. It’s been working well for a year now.’ She sighed. ‘Then last month, someone from my mothers’ group emailed me. She told me he’s started dating again, which probably means he’ll be looking to … formalise the separation soon.’

  ‘Ouch,’ said Annie. ‘That’s gotta hurt.’

  One of the attendants looked at her. ‘Your Miss V is sore?’

  ‘No, no.’ Annie chuckled uneasily. ‘It’s fine.’ She turned back to Cara. ‘How do you feel about divorce?’

  In the light of the glowing embers, Cara’s eyes were shiny with tears. ‘Well, there’s no other way, is there? Too much history between us. To be honest, I don’t even know if I’m sad about Richard, or if I’m just grieving the idea of happily-ever-after. Which is rather lame, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s not lame,’ said Janelle quietly. ‘Everyone’s looking for the same thing. Love, connection, happiness …’

  ‘Contentment,’ corrected Annie. ‘Happiness is fleeting. But contentment, well, that’s achievable in a relationship with the right person. I had that with Kevin.’

  Janelle nodded, deep in thought. She’d been infatuated with Nick, dazzled by his success and desperate to please. But he’d never been content with her, always encouraging her to lose weight, get fit, be more ambitious in her career.

  ‘That’s a good way of describing it,’ said Cara softly. ‘I was content with Richard, but we weren’t wildly passionate, so I used to think there was something wrong. I took our relationship for granted and always compared it with other couples.’ She shook her head.

  ‘Is it really too late with Richard?’ asked Janelle. ‘I mean, surely it’s possible for two people to survive a tragedy? Not to forget about Astrid, but to—’

  Cara cut her off. ‘I doubt it.’ After a moment, she said, ‘But what I do know is that you’ll find love and have a baby, Janelle. You’d make a great mum.’

  Janelle beamed. ‘That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.’

  ‘Really?’ said Cara gently. ‘You must be keeping the wrong company, then.’

  I have been, Janelle thought now. Nick was never good for me.

  The Balinese attendants sitting at their feet in the shadows began waving their fans faster, relentlessly pushing the smoke upwards as they chatted away.

  Annie turned to the others. ‘I think there’s only one thing worse than having a vagina spa, and that’s giving one.’

  They all laughed again, then sat together in comfortable silence. Remarkably comfortable, Janelle thought, given they were strangers just four days ago. Perhaps there was a method in Pak Tony’s madness, after all.

  The door swung open and Ayu entered, carrying a tray set with steaming glasses of tea. ‘Ladies,’ she said, ‘the vagina spa is over. Please take your bath.’ She motioned to a large privacy screen on the far side of the room.

  Janelle stood up first, a little shakily, and walked after Ayu. Annie and Cara followed, stepping gingerly across the damp slate tiles. Reaching the wooden screen, Janelle stared at the huge clawfooted tub beyond. Tea lights lined its rim and petals floated on the surface of the water.

  Ayu gestured at the water. ‘Please, your bath.’

  ‘Er …’ Janelle cast her eyes about the bathing area. ‘Is there only one?’

  Ayu smiled. ‘Yes, but very deep. Big enough for all of you.’

  ‘What?’ Annie was evidently exasperated. ‘First we have our vaginas fogged. Then we’re supposed to take a bath together?’

  Ayu nodded.

  ‘Well, that’s it for me,’ said Annie, resolutely. ‘My intimacy experience is officially over.’

  ‘But what happens if we abscond?’ asked Janelle.

  ‘Who cares?’ said Annie.

  ‘Hear, hear. I’ll tell Pak Tony myself,’ said Cara. ‘Can we go back now, please, Ayu?’

  The Balinese woman bowed and showed them to the door.

  Ten minutes later, back at the bamboo pavilion, they found Pak Tony sitting on a yoga mat. His eyes were closed and his legs tucked up in lotus pose.

  Cara cleared her throat to speak, but Pak Tony raised his right han
d for silence. ‘Don’t say a word,’ he urged, his eyes still closed. ‘Ratus creates a sacred female space. Whatever transpired between the three of you should not be disclosed to me—or to any other male—at any time, because together, you were manifesting the Divine Goddess.’

  Janelle raised an eyebrow. She caught Cara’s eye, then Annie’s, and the three of them struggled to suppress their laughter.

  Pak Tony opened his eyes and smiled at them. ‘Do you feel transformed?’

  They all nodded, poker-faced, but Janelle was certain her nostrils were flaring.

  ‘The men will come back from their manhood morning soon,’ he continued. ‘Why don’t you have some lunch? You’ll need your energy for this afternoon’s fear safari at Paradise Animal Sanctuary. They have the largest snake collection in Bali, and some very rare birds.’

  The women walked together towards the door and the buffet beyond.

  ‘Well, even if I don’t love this fear safari,’ said Annie, ‘it sounds like Henry will.’

  After their meal, Pak Tony herded the three women into the minibus, where they sat waiting for the men to return. They’d been delayed, Pak Tony explained, on account of an unexpected invitation to lunch after the tooth-filing ceremony in Pak Ketut’s family compound. When the trio finally appeared, on foot, with frangipanis tucked behind their ears, they seemed buoyant.

  Pak Ketut boarded the bus, looking penitent. ‘I am sorry, very long ceremony. Big feast.’ He glanced rather fearfully at the facilitator. ‘We go now to the animal sanctuary?’

  Pak Tony nodded and the driver started the engine while the other men climbed aboard. Henry took a seat behind Pak Ketut, and immediately engaged him in earnest conversation. Lorenzo followed Remy halfway down the minibus, where they stood for a moment, Lorenzo’s arm slung around the Frenchman’s shoulders, talking to Pak Tony about their manhood morning.

  Annie leaned across the aisle to Janelle. ‘Maybe they did have a penis cleanse,’ she whispered. ‘But, then again, Italians are demonstrative.’

  Janelle giggled. As the bus began to move off, Lorenzo sat down in a seat to himself several rows ahead of them.

  Cara turned towards the other two women. ‘You know, it’s totally acceptable in Bali for men to touch each other. It’s touching the opposite sex that’s taboo.’

  ‘What, no touching?’ Remy sat down next to Janelle. ‘Dare I ask about your … vagina spa?’

  ‘Nooo,’ said Janelle, feigning prudishness. ‘Pak Tony has forbidden us to talk about secret women’s business.’

  ‘I knew you were up to no good.’ His eyes wandered over her face and then lower, straying towards her chest—making her stomach flutter—before returning to her face. ‘You look fresh, Janelle.’

  The way Remy pronounced her name, with a soft J, made her heart sing. All her life, she’d been a harsh, larrikinsounding Ja-nelle. But Remy had transformed her into an exotic, Continental-sounding Zsa-nelle.

  ‘And you seem to have all your teeth,’ she replied. ‘How was the tooth-filing?’

  ‘C’était incroyable!’ enthused Remy. His arm lay casually across the top of the empty seat in front of them and, inspired perhaps by the massaging earlier, Janelle imagined palpating his bicep.

  He leaned even closer. ‘Janelle, it was strange. When I was lying on my back in the ceremony, I thought of you.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Suddenly I realised something very important. I would rather lose a tooth—’

  ‘Remy!’ Lorenzo called, waving his mobile phone at the Frenchman. ‘Have you seen the number of views on the YouTube clip already?’

  Janelle squinted, curious about what Remy was about to say. ‘What … YouTube clip?’

  ‘Yours,’ said Remy. ‘The one you told me to upload, For Bella.’

  ‘I didn’t tell you to upload it.’ She stared at him. ‘Not for the public. You uploaded it privately, didn’t you?’

  Remy’s face fell. ‘No, I … uploaded it to the main platform.’

  ‘What?’ Janelle snapped. ‘My niece hasn’t even seen the clip yet. I wanted to check it first, then send her a private link. I remember telling you that, Remy. How could you just go and—’

  Lorenzo flopped down onto the seat in front of them. ‘Janelle, see for yourself.’ He turned his phone towards her. She stared at the image on the screen—a thumbnail of herself, mid-striptease—then at the number of views listed beneath: 1,978,566.

  ‘That’s not possible,’ she gasped. ‘When did you upload it?’

  ‘Two days ago,’ said Remy. ‘Straight after your passion talk.’

  ‘It’s been syndicated by Noteworthy and Speakout,’ explained Lorenzo. ‘It’s all over social media. You’re a heroine to many young girls now, Janelle. Congratulations.’

  Janelle was struggling for breath. She read the description beneath the YouTube listing: An average Australian woman takes a provocative stand against unrealistic beauty ideals imposed by the fashion industry and pop culture. Dedicated to Bella, her niece, and to girls affected by eating disorders everywhere.

  Part of her was impressed by how well Remy had captured her intentions, the other part was outraged at being labelled ‘average’—even though it was true. But she could barely believe that almost two million people had watched her do a striptease.

  She turned to Remy and exploded. ‘What were you thinking?’ He looked contrite. ‘I didn’t hear you tell me not to upload it publicly.’

  ‘I find that hard to believe,’ Janelle hissed. ‘My instructions were clear. Do you need your ears cleaned out?’ She realised suddenly that she was screeching like her mother.

  ‘But this is great,’ said Lorenzo, pushing the phone towards her again. ‘Marketers dream of this sort of success. Two of the biggest content creators have picked it up. You’ve had a real impact, Janelle.’

  ‘But not on the person I was trying to reach,’ she protested. ‘That clip was meant for my family, not the whole bloody world.’

  She stared at the numbers on the screen once more. What would her extended family and friends say? Maybe everyone she knew had already watched it? The thought made her feel faint.

  ‘I want you to take it down,’ she said to Remy. ‘Right now.’

  ‘I can’t do that from my phone,’ he replied despairingly. ‘I need access to my laptop. I’ll do it as soon as we get back from the animal sanctuary, I promise.’

  ‘Think about it, Janelle,’ said Lorenzo, standing up and sliding his phone back into his pocket. ‘The clip is out there already, you’ve touched a lot of people. You’re supposed to do something new every day for your odyssey, aren’t you?’ He looked at her pointedly. ‘So leave it online.’ He turned and picked his way back to his seat.

  Not like this, Janelle thought, feeling overwhelmed. She’d only been in Bali for five days, four of them at Fearless. She’d spent the time absorbed in quirky activities with almost-strangers, situations contrived to mimic intimacy, but were any of these interactions authentic or meaningful? Her niece was struggling in Australia, and now Janelle’s privacy had been compromised. Was choosing Fearless a huge mistake?

  Pak Tony cleared his throat. ‘Just a little warning,’ he said, standing at the front of the bus. ‘Many of you appear to be very attached to your devices. But it’s a delusion to believe that using social media constitutes a relationship. Be prudent with your use of technology on this retreat, or I might confiscate your phones.’

  Lorenzo made a derisive sound, and Pak Tony levelled his gaze at him. ‘Are you a nomophobe, Lorenzo?’ he asked. ‘Many people can’t go an hour without checking for electronic affirmation of their existence.’ He smiled. ‘One of your challenges at the animal sanctuary will involve real communication with someone important to you, using an old-fashioned method like a phone conversation or a handwritten letter.’

  The Italian shrugged as if this didn’t faze him. Pak Tony stared at him a little longer before he took his seat once more.

  Sensing that Remy was about to speak to her aga
in, Janelle stood up quickly.

  ‘I am sorry, Janelle,’ said Remy, his tone plaintive.

  You can stuff your ‘Zsa-nelle’, she thought, stepping into the aisle.

  ‘Please.’ He reached out and caught her hand.

  Shaking it free, she found a seat elsewhere.

  Henry looked out the bus window at the neat-looking village through which they were passing. It was evidently a centre for stonemasonry, with almost every roadside stall filled with lava-stone statues, granite planters, or intricate sandstone reliefs. He reached forward and tapped Pak Ketut on the shoulder.

  ‘Does your village have a trade specialty?’ he asked, motioning to the stalls beyond the window. ‘I didn’t notice anything earlier.’

  The driver shook his head. ‘Before Puri Damai was built, our village was a centre for woodcarving and farming. Now we have tourism. Some of our old people still do woodcarving, like Pak Polos.’

  Henry nodded. He’d met Pak Polos, the village elder, at the tooth-filing ceremony. Along with almost every other member of Pak Ketut’s extended family of sixty.

  ‘The villagers were happy you visited,’ said Pak Ketut now. ‘This morning also, when I took Ibu Annie for her Indonesian lesson. She made them very happy by asking many questions.’

  ‘But I had to,’ Annie called out, grinning. ‘My odyssey gave me no choice, right?’

  The driver returned her smile in the rear-view mirror. ‘Your questions mean you are learning more about Balinese culture, Ibu Annie.’

  The American seemed to sit taller in her seat.

  ‘It was nice to meet everyone in your village,’ said Henry.

  Though nice isn’t exactly the right word, Henry thought; perhaps intense and confronting were more appropriate terms to describe Henry’s first contact with Balinese people who weren’t serving him in some way.

  They’d set out for the village on foot from Puri Damai, escorted by Pak Ketut. Arriving at the sprawling family compound, they were immediately introduced to three young men—Oka, Gede and Kadek—all of whom were having their teeth filed that morning. They had recently turned seventeen, although their slight frames and boyish grins made them seem much younger. Dozens of family members and neighbours milled about wearing flamboyant ceremonial garb reminiscent, in Henry’s eyes, of the bright plumage of Amazonian macaws.