The Occult Persuasion and the Anarchist's Solution

by Lisa de Nikolits

  I had known what Jason was going to do. And Sean had known. Jason had asked Sean to leave me with his body because he didn’t want Sean to be arrested, and Sean and I had both agreed to do what he wanted. I had offered to stay with Jason. I had realized that I was ready to end my time as a fugitive and face the music. I would not admit to stealing the car or Queenie. I would simply say that Jason had picked me up when I was hitchhiking out of Sydney the day after I walked off the ferry.

  And Jason had said that the blame for the protest would all be on him. And of course, there’d be nothing of value left to find on his hard drive as it was set to implode at 7:26 a.m. And, just to make sure, he had asked one of the fellows at the barber shop to take his laptop and drop it into the bay.

  Martha had collected Queenie from me before we left for Sydney and was going to pay some kid to take her to a police station and say the cat had been found near the Paddington Markets.

  “What if the kid steals Queenie?” I had asked.

  “I’ll watch whoever it is and make sure they carry the box into the police station,” Martha had assured me.

  I had cried like a kid when I handed Queenie over and I thanked her for being such a great friend to me when I needed one most. She seemed grumpy, but she nestled her head under my chin as if to say she understood. At least I hoped she did. Things were going to change and it was time for Queenie to go home.

  And I cried while I stood guard over Jason’s body on the empty bridge lined with T-shirts. Police dogs advanced, barking at full volume, and men in combat gear with shields marched heavily towards me. The helicopters hovered, their rotors shuddering like my heartbeat, and a hundred red-and-blue lights flashed.

  They were coming at me from the north and south sides of the bridge, and I sat there, guarding the body of my dearest friend.

  41. MARGAUX

  HE WAS DEAD. My love was dead. I fell to my knees. Janet and Tim rushed to help me. Adam and Rick were in shock. The crowd continued to scream, and it seemed like the whole world was trying to run away.

  I pulled myself up and looked up at the bridge through the binoculars I had bought. The police were taking Lyndon away.

  “They’ve got him,” I said to Janet and Tim. The bridge was curiously empty. It was amazing how the vast crowds had scattered so quickly, like tiny grains of sand blown away by a single gust of wind. The Opera House pavilion was empty. We made our way up to the top of Circular Quay and managed to hail a cab. Adam and Rick were with us, but when we got the cab, I told them I’d meet them back at the hostel, according to the plan.

  I could see that Adam was going to argue with me, and I was instantly furious with him. Don’t you dare make this about you.

  “Stick to the plan,” Rick told him gently, reading my face. “Come on.” He took Adam by the hand. I was angry with Adam for creating a problem at this crucial moment. He knew the plan; he knew I had to go alone. I got into the cab and refused to wave at Adam as I drove off.

  I had known the plan too. We all did. But nevertheless, seeing Jason drop like that, hearing that tiny pop that had sounded more like a firecracker than a gunshot in the movies, well, it was terrible.

  I forced myself not to cry and choked down the tears. “Follow the plan,” I told myself, and the cab dropped me off at the police station. I walked inside and found Sean. I hadn’t met him before, but I recognized him. He seemed to know who I was.

  “Are you okay?” We both said to each other at the same time. We then we both shook our heads.

  “No,” Sean said. “But here’s the thing. It’s what the big man wanted. Did you see the crowds? A hundred million views of the speech on YouTube. He’s gone viral. And, all the people there. It was bigger than even he had hoped. And our lot listened to him. They followed the instructions. So, if he was here now, which I know he is, he would be happy.”

  He was talking to himself more than me, as we were strangers. But we didn’t feel like strangers; we felt like a bereaved family.

  Sean took Lyndon’s passport from me, and we found a police officer and explained who we were and why we were there.

  “Lyndon Blaine has committed no offence,” Sean said, and his accent changed from lowbrow Westie to highbrow Sydney. “I will not release this passport to you. I need to see Lyndon before I do that.”

  We were taken to a small room to wait for Lyndon. The room had two plush sofas, a coffee machine, and children’s toys in a box in the corner. Sean and I sat down without speaking.

  I looked up every time I heard a sound, expecting to see Lyndon appearing at the door.

  We waited for two hours. “I should be with him,” Sean said, worried. “I am his legal counsel.” He got up and I followed him to the front desk.

  “I’m his lawyer,” Sean told the officer on duty. “I’ve been here for over two hours. I demand to see my client or there’ll be hell to pay. You’re not following legal protocol.”

  The officer spoke into a walkie-talkie on his shoulder. “He’ll be right out,” he told us, and we weren’t sure if he meant Lyndon or another police officer.

  But it was Lyndon. They brought him out into the hallway. I watched him walking towards us. He looked haggard. It was so strange to see him—it felt as if we had never been apart, and yet, we had never been together, all at the same time.

  Lyndon was shocked to see me. “Margaux? What are you doing here? Sean?”

  “She knows everything,” Sean said simply. “We need them to release Jason’s body. I’ll go and get that going, while you two wait here.”

  He walked away and I remained silent. I wasn’t going to be the one to make this right, if such a thing even existed.

  “How did you know?” Lyndon finally asked me, breaking the silence. “How did you know to be here? How do you know Sean?” It was a bit odd, talking to my husband with his flashy new look. He was confident and lean, and I liked that he was no longer the pasty, shrunken, bloated old man who had been shrinking into decrepitude.

  “I know Jason,” I replied, and it was hard to say his name without crying. “He and I emailed after that first message you sent. After the first message he sent, I should say. And then we met up in Sydney when you came in to plan the protest. I haven’t met Sean before.”

  “You met Jason? When?”

  “For God’s sake, Lyndon, you sound like Adam. I’m sick and tired of having you both constantly fire questions at me because you need to know the nth detail. And actually, it’s none of your business when I saw Jason. You left me, remember? And you wouldn’t have messaged me but for Jason. So really, I don’t need to tell you anything.”

  “He meant the world to me,” he said, and I looked away. I didn’t care about his grief, only mine. I left him and went to sit on one of the chairs that lined the hallway. He joined me and we sat in silence.

  Sean appeared, holding a piece of paper. “They’re releasing the body to a funeral home. Were they tough on you, mate?” he asked.

  Lyndon nodded. “Very. But what could they do? There was a lot of anger, but they couldn’t press charges. It wasn’t fun, but it went according to plan.”

  “Let’s go and get our man,” Sean said, and we walked outside into the warm sunshine of the May day. The whole world was carrying on with its business, and it was like the protest had never happened. It was only noon and Jason was dead.

  I stopped on the sidewalk. “You’re taking him back to Apollo Bay, right?”

  Sean nodded.

  “Adam, Rick and I will meet you there,” I said. “We’re flying to Melbourne and we’ll drive from there.”

  “Adam is here?” Lyndon was astounded. “Who’s Rick?”

  “Adam’s boyfriend. The one you refused to meet.”

  “But how do you all know all this? I don’t understand.”

  “You’re like a broken record, Lyndon,” I said. “We’ll meet you in A
pollo Bay.” And I walked away without answering him any further.

  42. LYNDON

  I STOOD ON THE SIDEWALK, my black jeans and T-shirt covered with blood, and watched Margaux walk away.

  “You should know something,” Sean said, with clear reluctance. “Jason and your wife were in love.”

  “What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “He was. She was. They were. He came to see her twice in Sydney. They emailed and texted and talked every day.”

  “Since when?”

  “I guess after the first message Jason made you send.”

  Jason had utterly betrayed me. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He was my life, my brave new world. I had run away from Margaux. I had wanted to be free of her and the life I had with her. And now, here she was, once again, taking away my pleasure. “She’s so controlling,” I burst out.

  Sean shook his head. “They met because of you. Jason wanted me to tell you. I told him it wouldn’t be easy and that you’d be hurt and angry, but he said I had to tell you. And he wanted me to tell you this too. He said that you need be kind to her. Step back and be kind. That’s what he said.”

  “He did not say that.” I was taken aback.

  “He did. What do you think? I made it up? Why would I do that? It’s none of my business. I’m just the messenger.”

  By now, we were in Sean’s BMW, driving to the funeral home. “Why does she get special attention and treatment? We’re all grieving but we must be kind to her?”

  “My God, Lyndon. Listen to yourself, mate. I thought you were better than this. You’re like a child whose toy has been taken away. Jason wasn’t a toy. He was a man, a good man, a man we lost today. And your little G-string is in a knot because your wife gets special attention? Maybe it’s time she did. You weren’t very nice to her back there. You treated her like an annoying inconvenience. But listen, like I said, it’s none of my business. I don’t even want to talk about it. You’re not acting like the guy I thought you were, so let’s just shut up and get this business done. This isn’t about you or your wife and you. It’s about Jason.”

  I heard what he was saying, but the roar of betrayal thudded in my ears. How many emails had they exchanged? When had he texted? When had they talked? Had they talked about me? And finally, sex. They must have slept together. How could he not have told me? Because I would have behaved like this, obviously.

  “Wait here,” Sean said when we got to the funeral home. I was left alone with my swirling thoughts. I studied the blood on my hands and clothes. Perhaps it was macabre, but I wanted to stay in those clothes forever.

  Margaux had looked good. She seemed more confident and she looked younger, less anxious, despite her grief. She looked centred, and I wondered what had happened. But I knew. It was Jason. Jason had happened to both of us. And Adam was here? With his boyfriend? I sighed. I could see that my carefree life had come to an end. It was time to resume the weight of familial obligation.

  Jason and I had chatted about what I would do afterwards. He had left the shop to Sean, and he said it was up to Sean if I could stay, but given the mornings’ events, I wondered if that was going to pan out. I felt as if I had broken Sean’s trust by being so negative about the news about Margaux and Jason. Sean clearly felt like I was being selfish and short-sighted, but how would he have felt? I told myself that it wasn’t realistic to expect him to understand, given that his most significant others were botanical variations on a theme. I wondered if I had lost Sean’s trust forever? Surely he understood I was grieving? He was, too. The world felt so empty without Jason. I told myself not to take Sean’s chilly attitude personally.

  Jason had also given me his machine and, as a parting gift, a tattoo of a lemon on the inside of my wrist. After he had finished the last detail on the lemon, he said, “So, when you’re reverting to your former self and I’m not around to give you a boxing to the ears, you can look at this and remember your alter ego, Liam Lemon, the guy who changed his life. You’ve got a good heart, Lyndon, and there’s a lot of life and love left for you in the world. I want you to remember that.”

  “Jason,” I said, looking down at my wrist, “I’ve let you down. Look at me, the only thing I did was whine on about me. No wonder Sean’s annoyed. Meanwhile, today was everything you hoped for and more. Did you see the crowds on and off the bridge? I wonder if the toilet paper unfurled like we wanted. I wonder how it looked on the television?”

  Sean returned and wordlessly got into the car.

  “Did we do it?” I asked him.

  “Do what?” He was short with me.

  “Was the protest everything we wanted it to be?”

  “You were there, mate. What do you think?” But then he relented. “Yeah, it was perfect. Everything happened just like we wanted it to, just like Jason planned. I know that wherever he is, he’s a happy man. It’s us, the ones left behind who are sad.”

  “I am sorry Sean,” I said. “You lost him too.”

  “A bunch of us did,” Sean replied.

  He didn’t seem to be in the mood to forgive me, and I realized something. Now that Jason was gone, the dynamic had changed. Sean was the new boss, and this was the start of a new regime. I wasn’t sure that Sean liked me very much. I was familiar with this feeling. The sinking in one’s gut when new management was brought in, and I had to start ass-licking all over again. Well, no ass-licking this time. I’d leave with dignity, on my terms.

  Part of me had known that I wouldn’t be able to stay in Apollo Bay once Jason was gone. And that’s why I needed to send Queenie home, although it broke my heart. This part of my life was over. “Can I stay at Jason’s apartment until the funeral?” I asked.

  Sean seemed startled by the question. “Of course you can,” he said, without hesitation. “You can stay as long as you like. That’s what he would have wanted.”

  It took us eleven hours to get back to Apollo Bay. Sean even let me drive his treasured car. We both just wanted the trip to be behind us.

  Life in Apollo Bay looked exactly the same as when we’d left it. It was as if nothing had happened in the world at all. Our huge statement hadn’t had any effect on this little town. It seemed that the ripples from the stone thrown hadn’t reached here.

  But I was wrong. Sean opened the door to the barber shop and Martha was inside, next to the Mayor of Apollo Bay.

  “We’re putting a great big funeral on for him,” the Mayor said. “We all loved him. The service will be at the RSL Club and anybody who wants to say something, can. It won’t be religious as such, but it will be led by a Buddhist priest, which I hope is the correct term. In fact, Jason organized it all. Following that, we will go to the beach to scatter his ashes, and a tent will be set up on the beachfront with cake and English high tea. We will send our man out in style.”

  Martha outlined some of the finer details, and then we were left with nothing else to say.

  “Day after tomorrow then,” Martha said. “Have you two even seen it on TV?”

  We shook our heads.

  “Let’s fix that,” she said, but Sean told her he was exhausted, and I agreed with him.

  “As Jason would say, bollocks to tired,” Martha said, flicking the TV on. “Many people recorded the whole thing. There are dozens of versions on YouTube. The newspapers have talked about nothing else. It’s on a loop on this channel.”

  We started watching it and it didn’t seem real. But then, it all came back to me: my panic attack, the crowd, Jason’s powerful voice, and that sense of being part of something big.

  But I felt terribly alone and couldn’t watch anymore. “I am going to my room,” I said and got up.

  I couldn’t deal with my grief. I locked myself in my bedroom, but it reminded me of Queenie, a double blow. I didn’t even have my cat anymore. I took a quick shower, changed my clothes, and packed my protest clothes carefully into a ba
g. I put on my running shoes, slipped out the back, and walked for hours. I tried not to think; I just walked. I cried as I walked, sobbing until I had no breath left. I lost track of how long I was gone, and I had no idea what time it was when I returned home. I took another shower and climbed into Jason’s bed and everything hit me. Exhaustion hit me like a truck. I was aware of being asleep but it was more like I was anesthetized, dragged to lie in a place of drugged semi-consciousness just below the surface of my mind.

  I had no idea how to carry on with my life.

  43. MARGAUX

  “HE IS SUCH A DICKHEAD,” I said to Tim and Janet. “All he wanted to know was why I was there. Like I had no right. Like I was invading his lovely new life. Like I was an annoying inconvenience.”

  “He was grief-stricken, just like you,” Tim said, bluntly. “And after that day, and all the planning that must have gone into it, I bet there was lot going on in his head. And, he was right next to Jason when he killed himself. And then he got locked up in a police station, so it’s no surprise he was acting in in a very self-involved way. Plus, he had no idea you were going to be there. What did you expect? Sorrowful recriminations? I don’t think that was ever in the cards.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what you really think?” I grumbled, but I knew he was right. Lyndon had behaved as I would have, had I been in his shoes.

  “Mom, we’re not coming to the funeral, if that’s okay?” Adam said.

  I nodded my head. “I understand. There’s no reason for you to.”

  “We’re going skydiving and scuba diving, and I’m going to learn how to sail a yacht.” Adam was excited and happy and why shouldn’t he be? He was on holiday, he was in love, he deserved to play and enjoy life.

  “Sounds amazing,” I told him, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Just be careful. Rick, look after him for me.”

  Rick assured me that he would, and they left for some adventure or other.

  “I’m going to lie down,” I said. “Two days until the funeral. More waiting.”