The denial, when it came, was too late and too feeble.
‘I was talking about leaving school,’ Sharn said. ‘Staying too long at Sassafrass.’
‘No, you weren’t.’ They had entered the territory now and Caitlin did not know how to go back.
‘I was, actually. I shouldn’t have left school. I shouldn’t have stayed in that place.’
‘But you did.’ The room felt too hot despite the cool of the autumn breeze. ‘Because of me.’
Her mother did not respond.
Caitlin wished she were anywhere but here.
When she finally spoke, Sharn’s voice was clipped. ‘If you are doing this to get back at me, then you are an idiot.’
She should never have let it begin. Breathing in deeply, Caitlin knew this. She stepped away and wiped at the tears that were starting to form. It does not matter, she told herself once again. None of this matters, and she looked around the flat that had once been her home, and wished she had not come back. She had to pull herself away, to walk out without further anger.
‘I have to go,’ she said, and because she could hear the slight tremble in her own voice, she closed her eyes for a moment, wanting only to find the calm that had become the very essence of each of her days in the house. ‘It doesn’t have anything to do with you.’
Sharn turned away, her own attempt at controlling her voice also failing. ‘Trust me. You’re too young to know what you want.’
Reaching into her bag, Caitlin felt for the book she had brought to give to Sharn and Liam. It was a book of testimonials. She was going to leave it behind for them to read. For Sharn to understand. She looked up at the ceiling and bit her lip.
‘I have to go,’ she said again.
‘Don’t,’ and Sharn shook her head.
‘I wanted you to understand.’
‘You want to punish me.’
It wasn’t true. She should have known. She had known, and that was why she hadn’t wanted to see her.
They could only look at each other, both silent, both aware that there was nothing more to say. Caitlin raised her hand, her fingers still curled down towards her palm, unable even to complete this gesture of farewell. She told her mother that she would just collect her clothes, that she wouldn’t be long.
But she didn’t even do that. As Sharn sat back down on the couch and picked up her book, Caitlin headed straight for the hall. The front door was still open and she walked towards it without even thinking.
‘Caitlin,’ Sharn called out, but her call was unanswered. ‘Caitlin,’ she called again, not even expecting an answer this time.
Standing on the front step, Caitlin closed her eyes to the brightness of the sunlight, steadying herself in the face of its glare. And then, breathing in, she kept on walking, unaware of her mother calling her name, once and then one last time, as the door swung shut behind her.
FOR THE NEXT THREE MONTHS, Caitlin waited. Each day she worked at the house, each night she caught a bus out to a video store on the other side of town to spend five hours restacking shelves.
Finally, the word came through. Her wait was over.
It was Elena who told her, late one evening when she came in from another shift.
‘You leave in a week,’ she said.
‘Really?’ Caitlin could feel the joy in her own smile radiating outwards. This was what she had wanted, what she had tried to teach herself not to want. Since she had first asked to move to the land, to become one of the inner circle, she had waited, certain that this moment would come, just unsure as to when. She reached out for Elena.
‘I am so happy,’ she said, and they embraced briefly. ‘Thank you.’
For it was Elena who had recommended her. Each week they had met to discuss Caitlin’s spiritual progress, and to talk about her contribution to the community. Each task that Elena had set, Caitlin had undertaken without question. Abstaining from food, communication with others, water; she had done as she was asked.
Our role is to follow. To do simply as we are instructed. To deny all individual desires.
And each time Caitlin had felt the weightlessness of her own soul sing with delight as it had soared with the others in abstinence.
She had taken the job at the video store after Elena had told her that she had to find something, to make a ‘contribution’.
‘But I do things here,’ Caitlin had said, uncertain as to what it was she was expected to do.
Elena had smiled. ‘We must each contribute,’ and she had waved her hand around the room. ‘How else would we survive?’
And so, in the evenings, after completing her tasks for the day, she caught the bus across town to her job. She kept to herself, restacking the shelves and rewinding returns. She was, she knew, something of a curiosity, a weirdo, and she did not bother to correct the rumours that surrounded her. If anyone asked her a question about herself, she replied with honesty, but apart from that, she volunteered no further information.
Once Leanne came in. She had worked with Sharn, years ago at the legal centre. She had no idea that Caitlin had left home, and she asked about Sharn and Liam, wanting to know how they were.
‘I don’t know,’ Caitlin said, and Leanne looked confused.
‘I haven’t seen them for a while,’ Caitlin tried to explain.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve moved out,’ Caitlin said, aware that the others were listening, wanting to know what was going on.
‘But not far away?’
‘We just had a difference of opinion,’ and Caitlin looked back to the shelf that she was restacking, not wanting to continue the conversation.
Leanne, a social worker who knew few boundaries, did not give up. ‘About what?’
The pile of videos next to Caitlin threatened to topple over if Leanne took another step closer. Caitlin stood up, wanting only to avoid the resounding crash that would occur if she did not move slightly further back from the shelf. Hemmed in by Leanne’s determination, she gave away more information than she would otherwise have done.
‘I’ve joined a faith,’ she said, once again hating the word she felt forced to use. ‘We fought about that.’
‘Jesus, Caitlin,’ and Leanne reached for her, but Caitlin stepped back. ‘I would have expected you to be more sensible. What kind of faith?’
Caitlin felt only weariness at Leanne’s reaction. She did not understand why her choice seemed to evoke such a response. She was happy, and surely that was all that mattered. She moved towards the pile of videos that she had to put back.
‘I’m busy,’ she said, without looking up, and with her back turned to Leanne, she continued working.
It was not long before Liam came to visit her.
Donna, the manager, had pointed out where she was, and he made his way towards her, walking hesitantly down the rows of children’s titles, his awkwardness evident in the way he kept opening and closing his wallet.
‘Leanne told me you were here,’ and he smiled at her, gently, shyly, as she looked at him.
Caitlin stood up, surprised at how strange it felt to see him.
‘How are you?’ she asked, and he shrugged his shoulders as he told her that he was okay, missing her, but okay.
‘You look well,’ he said, and she told him that she was.
‘Sharn’s called you,’ he said, ‘several times.’
She was taken aback by this information, because she had received no messages; she did not even know how Sharn would have found the number, and she asked Liam why she had been trying to get in touch.
‘She misses you, I guess.’
She was aware of Donna watching her. She did not approve of staff talking. It’s work, she would say, not a social outing.
‘Her anger,’ and Liam looked at the floor, ‘it was just concern for you.’
Caitlin did not say anything.
‘Maybe you could come home one night. Have dinner. We could try again.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t w
ant to see her.’
The disappointment he felt showed on his face.
‘I can’t,’ she said, and he nodded.
‘Do you need money or anything?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve got to finish this,’ and she pointed towards the pile of videos on the floor.
Donna was walking towards them and, sensing Caitlin’s agitation, Liam told her he would go.
‘You’ll stay in touch?’ he asked, and she said that she would.
‘Let us know where you are?’
She nodded, and he leant forward to kiss her on the cheek.
‘Take care.’
She turned back to the work she had to do, not wanting to watch him wipe his eyes hastily, in the hope that she would not notice.
Later, she asked Elena if her mother had rung. ‘Sharn Donnelley,’ Caidin said, ‘apparently she’s been calling.’
Elena was sweeping the kitchen floor, her head bent in complete concentration on the task. She did not even glance up as she told Caitlin that she had not received any calls. ‘But I can answer only for myself.’
Caitlin let it rest there. It did not matter. She had made her choice, and she could look neither backwards nor forwards. She could concentrate on now only.
In the days that followed the news of her impending departure, Caitlin continued with her duties as usual. She had been instructed to purify herself by fasting, and to observe silence during the day.
If there was any antagonism towards her, she barely noticed it. The truth was, she had been accepted far earlier than anyone expected. The number of followers who wanted to go greatly exceeded the places available and many had been waiting years for permission. Everyone greeted her news with joy, but the question was there, hinted at in their eyes as they exclaimed at how quickly she had been given leave to join Satya Deva and his few select followers.
‘You are blessed,’ Kalyani told her when he arrived the night before her departure to travel with her, and he held her face in his hands and kissed her, the delight in his smile causing her to beam back at him.
‘I am happier than I have ever been,’ she said, and she was surprised at the response in her own body as he kissed her again, his hands running over her breasts, his fingers delicate against her skin.
She had not had sex with anyone since Fraser. And as she undressed, she remembered his words. He had been wrong. Sex was more than a basic human need. It was an expression of joy, and she laughed as Kalyani kissed her down her neck, his mouth nuzzling into her collarbone, his tongue flicking up to her ear, his cheek smooth against her own.
‘Why?’ she asked him, thinking that she would have been beneath his notice – he was so close to their master.
He grinned, his teeth dazzling white against his golden brown skin. ‘Why not?’
She kissed him, delighting in his body as she laughed once again. The world was teeming with infinite possibility, and she wanted only to enjoy. She closed her eyes, her entire body given over to the pleasure of the moment, her entire being at one with now.
They left early the next morning. Her bag was packed and ready by the door, and she glanced back, briefly, at the empty anonymity of the room she had inhabited for the last few weeks. She liked it. She liked all the rooms in this house. It was as though they were never occupied, any human presence so transient and insubstantial as to be almost nonexistent, and as she closed the door behind her, she wondered for a moment at how changed her life was. It was more than she had ever hoped for, more than she had ever considered possible, and it had come to her as a gift, without – it seemed – her ever having actively sought it out.
Kalyani was waiting for her in the car. The back was packed with supplies, and there was only a small space on the front seat for her. She pulled her white robes close around her, the chill of the dawn sharper than she had expected, and as he started the engine, she asked him if he would mind going past the shops.
‘I want to post this,’ she explained, and she held up the letter she had written to Liam, the letter she had told him she would send.
‘I promised,’ she said.
Kalyani smiled. ‘You have told him that you love him, that you have gone and that you are happy.’
Caitlin nodded.
‘And that you will be in touch.’
‘He was like a father.’
And as she looked at the letter resting in her lap, Kalyani took her hand in his own.
PART 3
SHE HAS COME TO ANOTHER COUNTRY.
If you asked her where she was she would say that she was far away, in a place you do not know, a place where your rules, customs, and even your language, are not observed.
In the old ballroom, she sits at the feet of Satya Deva. Overhead, the fans click round, stirring the stillness of the air, and this is the only sound in the silence. They do not speak and there is no need, his infinite wisdom cannot, and should not, be contained by words.
This morning she is to tend his feet. He sits back on the cushions, eyes closed, and raises his leg so that an ankle rests in her lap. She peels back his white robes to reveal the paleness of his shin and she sponges his soft soles with warm water from the bowl at her side. She dries each foot carefully, absorbing the moisture into the thick towel. His flesh is pliable beneath her fingers, the pads yielding to gentle pressure as she massages in the oil, rubbing deep into the arches, around the curve of each toe, and into the firmness of his heels.
This is her task and as she tends to it, it is all that exists, complete and perfect in each given moment.
When she is finished, he lies back, the silk bolster sinking beneath his weight, and just as she thinks he is settling into sleep, he opens one eye and looks at her.
‘You are agitated,’ he says, and she is suddenly aware that, yes, she is, as he has so correctly sensed, agitated.
‘Tell me,’ and his voice is deep and rich, like the slow, lazy roar of a lion as he stretches.
‘I am anxious,’ she says, ‘about the future,’ and as she finally utters those words, all the fear that they contain implodes, dust and grit ascending in a swirl, blinding her to the beauty of the immediate.
He closes his eye. A faint smile teases at the corner of his mouth, and he waves one hand in the air. ‘The future?’ His laughter rings out through the emptiness of the room. ‘Is there anything in this given moment that you should fear?’
She shakes her head.
‘This moment is the future. It has already slid into the next moment as we speak,’ and he sighs again.
It is a deep sigh that expresses the blessing they each feel, and she stands slowly, quietly, so as not to disturb him, and carries the bowl out to the kitchen.
Deva Sadhana is there and Santosh, who once was Fraser back in the country where Caitlin used to live, the place where she wandered like a stranger who never belonged. But Caitlin, too, no longer exists. She is Nirav now, and the person she has become has no connection with who she once was.
Together, the three of them slice into the mangoes, a crisscross of cuts, cubes that press out as they bend the skin back. When they are done, they lay them out on the white cloth, alongside the papayas and limes, and the breads they have baked; for this is the day that they break their fast, that they celebrate and sing the joy of existence.
‘It is feasting all day, and well into the night,’ Satya Deva has told them.
She is hungry, because it has been so long since she has eaten, but each time she looks at the food before her, she feels nauseous, wanting only to be ill. She knows she must experience this, allowing herself to swallow the giddy lightness that rises and then plummets with a rapid heaviness into the pit of her stomach, but in doing so, she feels that same tight grip of fear that rips the present out of her hands and sends her hurtling into a future filled with terror.
She runs her hands under the tap, washing off the sticky mango juice and splashing the cool water across her forehead, and in the moment of looking up from the sink, she sees her r
eflection in the window. The glass is cracked, and the dust dances in the sunlight, but it does not alter the vision she had, the brief moment of seeing and finding herself slipping out of her attempt to find peace. She steps back, almost colliding with the table, and steadies herself with one hand gripping the edge. The others know she is not feeling well, and they put down the food and turn to her, anxious that she is about to faint.
She is not.
Deva Sadhana’s hand is warm on her stomach. It is her way of asking if she is all right. Santosh turns back to the fruit, unwilling to look at her, and she wants only to be back where she was: Nirav, calm and content, preparing food for the day of celebration, doing that and that alone. So, she brushes Deva Sadhana’s hand away and turns her back on the window as she tells herself – once more – that this is a new country and all that she was, all that she held as truth, has no place here.
ONCE WHEN THEY WERE WORKING BACK, Lou had asked Sharn what had made her fall in love with Liam. Sharn had been complaining, saying that she was unsure whether they should continue, when Lou stopped her with the question.
‘I don’t know,’ Sharn answered.
‘Yes, you do,’ and Lou smiled. ‘Apart from the fact that he’s a looker.’ Which he was.
She tried to remember. She didn’t have to try, really. Lou was right, she did know. It had just become so buried under all the crap. There were three things, but she didn’t say them all out loud.
‘He was kind,’ she said. ‘And I’d had it so hard.’
‘He is kind,’ Lou corrected her.
But it wasn’t just that he was kind to her. He was good to Caitlin too. She didn’t have to do it on her own anymore and she could not even begin to describe how huge that relief was.
She remembered standing out on the highway on the night they left Sassafrass. The rain had only just stopped falling and the steam was rising from the road. There was not a car in sight, and she had begun to regret the haste with which she had made them leave, her anger with Simeon making it impossible for her to stay a moment longer in the shack that she realised she had always hated.
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