She laughs. “Stop worrying. I am an awesome driver. I haven’t had a crash since I was a teenager.”
Perhaps I really am just feeling nervous in a post-traumatic stress kind of way. I don’t even know what normal is anymore.
Finally we reach a big wooden arch with a welcome sign hanging overheard. Gia parks the car off to the side and we jump out, following a small, lit-up walkway to the reception office.
A monk – who looks like he’s come straight from Tibet – sits inside. He smiles when he sees us approaching.
“Ah. You must be Gia and Chrissie. I trust your trip went smoothly?”
I let Gia take charge. I don’t want to say anything that might contradict any pre-fabricated story she may have come up with.
“Yes, it was fine. Thank you for accommodating us at such short notice.”
“No problem. Your room is all set up and ready. Please be mindful of the other guests as you move around. Many of them are already sleeping. The wake-up bell will ring just before four, and we have our first zazen session at four-twenty. Will we see you there?”
“Of course. Thank you again.”
He smiles, eyes crinkling. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”
He passes us a hand-drawn map with directions to our room. We go back to the car and retrieve our bags to take down to a small bungalow. I feel like I’ve been transported to the middle of Asia. The front door is made of paper, and tatami matting covers the floor inside. The chairs don’t have legs, and the beds are low-lying futons. A big round window on one wall looks out to the surrounding forest.
Gia dumps her bag in the corner of the room and then proceeds to make two cups of tea using a hot water dispenser sitting on a nearby table.
She hands one to me and sighs. “Isn’t this location darling?”
“Yeah, I can see why Peter Carson likes it here.”
We sip our tea quietly for a moment.
“Have you thought through a plan of some sort?” I ask.
“Not really,” she admits. “I just assumed we’d run into Peter during a meditation session and corner him whenever we had the chance.”
“I wonder which bungalow he’s in? Maybe we should do a bit of reconnaissance.”
“We might leave that as a last resort. We don’t want to get thrown out for snooping around. I’m sure he’ll be around somewhere. We’ll find him in the morning and then head back to San Francisco after that. How are you feeling anyway?”
“Pretty messed up, but I suppose I couldn’t pick a better place to spend the night.”
“I stayed somewhere like this in Japan once. It was amazing.”
“Do you believe in all that meditation stuff?”
“Believe in it? Yes, of course. Meditation isn’t some mysterious new-age magic. It’s just about calming your thoughts.”
“Oh.” I guess I never really thought about what it entailed. I suppose I’ll find out in the morning.
We change into our PJs and brush our teeth. The futons are single sized and spaced a few feet apart, making it feel like we’re about to have a sleepover. Gia lies down on her side and faces me.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” I say.
“Sure.”
“Have you dated since Jack?”
She frowns. “No. I’m too busy with the kids and work to worry about romance.”
“Are you afraid you’re going to get hurt again?”
“Not really. I don’t feel like you should take the negativity from a previous relationship into the next one, and I never really understood those who do. I’m just not ready for anyone else yet.”
I contemplate this. Corey and I haven’t been split up for very long, but I’m not sure I will ever forget this feeling of betrayal. How can you not take some of that hurt into future relationships?
“Do you ever talk to Jack?”
“Not really. But that’s more because of him, not me. I’d be happy for him to take more of an active role in the children’s lives. I kind of miss him too, in a weird way. I know he didn’t treat me right, but he is the father of my kids, and we did have some good times. I hope maybe one day we can be friends again.”
She gets up and switches off the light, so I lie back and close my eyes. It is dark and quiet, and all I hear is the sound of our breathing.
I hope I can eventually be as forgiving and optimistic as Gia is.
***
Three-fifty is a ridiculous time to wake up. It really is still the middle of the night.
A gong shakes me from a deep sleep and it takes a minute to get my bearings. My back is stiff from the futon. I know futons are supposed to be good for you, but give me a pillow-topped mattress any day.
Gia springs up. “Morning!” she chirps.
“Oh my God, what is wrong with you? How can you be so alert?”
“I have triplets, remember? Five hours of sleep is a luxury! I’m normally up at least two or three times every night with one of the kids needing to use the bathroom or wanting an extra blanket.”
I have never really thought about the impact children might have on my sleeping patterns. I need eight hours every night or I’m a mess. How would I handle being a mom?
“Even at three years old?” I ask.
“Yep. And I have friends who say their kids are still waking them up when they’re five and six. Seriously, you need to mentally prepare to never have a good night’s sleep again once you get pregnant.”
Hmm. I’m not sure I like the sound of that at all.
I change into some loose white pants and a white tank top. Gia wears a similar outfit, but in pink and slate gray.
We follow a few of the other guests down the path to a softly lit hall. Inside, cushions are laid out in neat rows. Several of them are already taken, but none by Peter Carson.
“Should we sit at the back?” I whisper. “That way we can see when Peter arrives.”
“Good idea,” she whispers back.
Seeing as I’ve never meditated, I watch as Gia sits cross-legged and presses her thumb and middle finger together on each hand, resting them on her knees.
I do the same, feeling very self-conscious, despite everyone else having their eyes closed. I close one eye, surreptitiously squinting through the other to keep a look out for Peter.
New-age music plays softly in the background. I’m surprised to find I don’t mind it, and somehow drift away into a little zone of calm.
Why was I so worked up yesterday? I mean, I know my life is pretty crappy at the moment, but somehow the physical distance from San Francisco and the zen-like environment of this center has created a buffer of sorts. It’s almost as if all that stuff happened to someone else a long time ago.
I steal a glance at Gia. She’s sitting perfectly still, looking like Buddha. If Buddha was a large-breasted blond woman. For some reason, the thought makes me want to break out into hysterical laughter. I cover my mouth and snort. Oops.
I’ve never been sure what the end goal of meditation actually is. Is it just to relax? Or to empty your mind of all thoughts? How is that possible? If I’m thinking no thoughts, no thoughts, aren’t I still having thoughts?
Maybe the idea is to focus on a problem and mentally work through it to a satisfying conclusion.
So for example, how I’m feeling about Corey. Obviously just the idea of him evokes a lot of anxiety. And a lot of anger. Also a lot of sadness. It makes me feel like I’ve never really had a guy on my side. I know Penny is always there for me, and Gia has been amazing these past few months, but now that I think about it, even Dad has never really seemed to care that much about me.
I feel a tear roll down my face. I’m not sure that’s supposed to happen during meditation.
I might try some deep breathing instead.
Inhale…exhale…inhale…exhale.
That’s better. I’ll just stick with this for the rest of the session.
Inhale…
Damn it, Corey! Get out of my brain!
Okay, g
ood. Exhale…
Now Will is in there. Fuck off, Will. Why is it that once you latch onto a negative thought, all the other thoughts that make you feel bad seem to shoot into your brain as if attracted by a magnet?
I sigh. A bit too loudly. Gia gives me a funny look.
The other practitioners seem very dedicated. There’s not a single movement or peep amongst the lot of them.
Jeez, now my butt has fallen asleep. And my head feels itchy. Are you allowed to scratch? I remember watching a ninja movie once where the master came around and hit people with a cane if they fidgeted. Surely they wouldn’t have anything like that here, would they? It’d be a violation of human rights.
And here I am thinking again.
STOP THINKING, CHRISSIE!
I mentally count sheep. I see them jumping over an imaginary fence in an endless loop.
I could really use a few extra hours’ sleep. Is it possible to sleep while sitting in this position?
After what seems like much longer than an hour, another gong chimes and everyone starts stretching out their legs.
I open my eyes properly and look around.
Still no Peter.
Maybe he slept in. I guess it’s possible that important people like Hollywood directors have a different schedule to everyone else.
Gia is staring at me.
“What?” I ask defensively.
“Could you have been any noisier during that session?”
“What do you mean? I thought I did well.”
Yes, I know I’m lying, but I thought I at least did a good job of hiding my inner turmoil.
She raises an eyebrow. “You were laughing, snorting and fidgeting. It was like watching one of my kids at a birthday party when they stop the song during Musical Statues.”
I poke out my tongue. I don’t have to prove how mature I am.
“You’re worse than the triplets. Anyway, we’ll go grab breakfast and if we don’t see Peter there, we might have to do a bit of asking around to find out what’s going on.”
I nod and follow her into a communal dining room filled with more of those legless chairs set up around coffee tables. Each setting has a bento tray filled with rice, vegetables, an omelet and tofu.
A server comes around with a teapot and pours us a small cup of green tea.
I observe as Gia eats her rice with chopsticks. “You look like you belong here,” I say.
“Yeah, I could easily go back to Japan, but I haven’t had the chance since I met Jack. He hated all this kind of stuff.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess he thought it was a bunch of hippie nonsense or something. Much like how I think you feel,” she teases. “But he had a lot of anger he refused to deal with. I think a stint at a retreat would do him the world of good. Maybe one of those Vipassana ones where you’re not allowed to talk for ten days.”
“I don’t think I could handle a Vipassana retreat.”
“I’m going to have to agree with you on that one, judging by your pitiful attempt at meditation just now.” She pokes me in the side.
“Now I feel like I need to do one to prove you wrong.” I pout. “Anyway, maybe you can tell me. What are you actually supposed to do when you meditate? Is the aim to completely clear your mind? Because I feel like that’s kind of impossible.”
She nibbles on a piece of tofu. “I guess in the long term. But most people have too much stuff going on in their heads to achieve that right away. In the beginning, it’s helpful to just let your thoughts drift by without getting emotionally attached to them. So say if I had a frustrating thought about Jack, I would just go ‘oh, there’s that same old thought about Jack screwing me over. I’ll just watch as it enters my head and leaves again.’”
I laugh. If only it were that simple. But then, maybe it is.
I eat my breakfast and try to do what Gia said. I’m sure millions of people are already aware of how to meditate and watch their thoughts, but I’ve always been a bit resistant to new-age stuff. I blame it on all the people I see back in San Francisco, pretending to float around on a cloud of bliss while they wear their fisherman’s pants and hemp cotton, espousing the benefits of yoga and meditation. But a lot of them seem like angry people underneath – like they’re just waiting for you to question their non-conformist beliefs so they can argue with you and tell you how you’re doing everything wrong. Maybe I’ve been too quick to judge.
Peter doesn’t join us for breakfast, which makes me think there can be only two reasons for this. One: he is doing some kind of solitary retreat elsewhere on the property, or two: he’s not actually here.
“What if Peter never made it here?” I ask.
“Relax. We’ll figure something out.”
After eating, everyone trickles away. The monk from last night comes over to check on us. “How are you settling in?”
Gia gives him one of her most charming smiles. “Perfectly, thank you. It’s been lovely so far. So what’s the plan for the rest of the day?”
“Well, next up is quiet study. You can do this back in the meditation hall, or out in the grounds. Reading material and notebooks are available in the front office if you require them.”
“What do you recommend?” Gia asks. “Seeing we arrived a bit late, we’re not exactly sure what’s expected of us. For example, does everyone here follow the same schedule?”
“Oh, yes, most of our practitioners do stick to the suggested routine. We find it’s good for self-discipline. But then occasionally we have people who need to come and go throughout the course due to extenuating circumstances. We just request they be mindful of everyone else and minimize their impact on others, like what I asked of you two last night.”
I try to make eye contact with Gia, but she ignores me.
“Great. Thanks for your help.” She then pretends to remember something. “Oh, before I forget, I ran into a man on the way to the bathroom last night and he introduced himself as Peter. I didn’t see him this morning, so do you know where he might be?”
The monk nods. “Yes. He had to leave the property quite early. Some sort of emergency back home. He didn’t say exactly what.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. Thanks anyway.”
“You’ll have to excuse me,” the monk apologizes. “I have some administration to attend to before the talk at nine.”
“Of course. Thank you again for being so helpful. I’m sure we’ll see you later.”
“I’m sure you will,” he says. He walks off, smiling to himself – almost as if he’s in on some sort of private joke. I wish I could be like that – constantly amused by life.
Gia waits until the monk is out of earshot before she talks again.
“Damn. Can you believe it?”
“I know! What do you want to do?”
“I’m not sure, but I don’t know if I’m ready to go home yet. Do you fancy a drive to LA?”
“And do what?”
“Visit the studio?”
“How will we get in?”
“Maybe someone will recognize me and take pity on me?”
“That seems like a long shot. I mean, you are kind of famous, but I don’t think even someone like Jennifer Lawrence would be able to just waltz into a movie studio unless she had a legitimate reason for being there.”
“They would totally let J-Law in! But I get your point.” She looks around, as if the answer might physically jump out at her. “Well…dang. I don’t know. How about we go anyway? You seem like you could use a bit more of a break before going home.”
“What about your kids?”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine. I’ll just call Mom and see if she minds looking after them for an extra day or two.”
“Are you sure? I kind of feel like I’m being a burden.”
“Don’t be silly. Sometimes you need to accept help from people when they offer it. Especially if those people are your boss.”
I grin. “Okay. Thank you. So what do we do here? Make a run fo
r it?”
“Oh, Chrissie. Always so dramatic. No. We’ll get our stuff, leave a nice thank-you note and quietly walk out. We can even donate a bit extra to their cause if that makes you feel better.”
“That would make me feel better.”
“Good. We’ll do that then.”
“So do you want me to look up some hotels in LA? The least I can do is pay for you.”
“No, no. I have a friend we can visit in Venice.”
“Do you need to let them know we’re coming?”
“No. I drop in unannounced all the time.”
“But what about me?”
“She’ll love you.”
“If you say so.”
“Stop worrying! Come on. Let’s go pack and I’ll write that note for the monk.”
There doesn’t seem to be as much of a sense of urgency to our mission now, so we take the long way back to our room. It really is a beautiful property. I wish we were staying longer. I could just imagine sitting out under the trees in the forest, absorbing the sounds of the birds and insects…and…oh my God, is that an actual hot tub overlooking the valley? No one told me there was a hot tub here!
I look at Gia and then back at the hot tub longingly. “Can we…?”
“Sweetie, we’ll find you a hot tub later. We don’t want to go arousing suspicion when we’re about to leave.”
“You’re right. Sorry.”
We get back to the room and I start packing my bag. I wonder how much more likely we are to run into Peter Carson just by being in the same city as him. We’re talking about LA! With a population of four million and where every celebrity has their own bodyguard! Even if we did find Peter, what are the chances of us being able to get close enough to talk to him?
But then, I guess we don’t have any other choice. And I kind of have to do everything Gia asks me to do, because I owe her.
I just hope one day I can properly repay the debt.
TWENTY
It’s just after lunch when we park out the front of a modest building in Venice Beach. An external staircase leads to a landing with several apartment doors lined up in a row. Gia knocks on the third one along.
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