Mothers and Other Strangers

by Gina Sorell

  “Can I ask you something?” I said.

  “I should think so,” said Luc, eating his croissant.

  “Could you tell me about the initiation process? I was told you couldn’t be a full member of the Seekers unless you were initiated. What does that mean?”

  “It means you agree to devote your life to them. You can always drop in on meetings, but to really study with them and receive their counsel and blessings, you must agree to follow their ways, abide by their meditation practices…and donate your money.”

  I wanted to ask more about the actual process, but I could see by the way he tightened his jaw it wasn’t a subject he wanted to talk about. I fiddled with the ivory ring on my hand, running my thumb back and forth along its smooth underside, and was surprised when he continued.

  “They decide when you are ready to be initiated, and they choose their members carefully. The more important you are, and by that I mean the more money you have, the faster you get initiated. The more you give, the higher up their ladder you go, and the more you believe you will be saved from whatever it is you’re looking to be saved from.” He paused and took a deep breath, and I reached over to his hand and held it in mine. He squeezed my hand back and then reached for his cigarettes, taking one out and lighting it. He took a long drag, threw his head back, and exhaled smoke up toward the ceiling.

  “I watched Céline, my girlfriend, become a member. We were both in line for initiation, but that bastard Henri must’ve wanted her badly, so she was picked before I was. Céline was upset—she really wanted us to be initiated together—so at the last minute, he invited me to attend. He said that way I could see what was in store for me when my time came. The ceremony was held at night. Everyone gathered in a circle holding candles, forming a ring for the new members to enter.”

  Out of the darkness and into the light… that’s how Henri had signed his letters after he had started acting crazy.

  “We all stood in silence as they made their way one by one, taking their rites, and then it was Céline’s turn. I watched as she walked to the center of the circle, slowly removed her clothes, and stood naked in front of the leaders. In front of all of us.” He took another drag and stared down at the table, ashing his cigarette into the saucer of his coffee cup. “They had her turn in a circle, and as she did they counted her shadows. Each shadow represented a stain upon her soul.”

  “But the candlelight.…”

  “It casts a lot of shadows.” He shook his head sadly and stubbed out his cigarette. “But it doesn’t really matter, they could say two or they could say two hundred, and you’d believe them. By the time you are initiated, they know all your secrets anyway. It’s part of the unburdening process. They make you believe that the greater your burden, the more you have to do, give, volunteer. You are literally paying for your sins.”

  I shuddered at the thought of my own mother naked before Philippe and the others, and wondered how many shadows they would’ve counted for her, and what they knew that I didn’t.

  “After that, everything and everyone else in your life comes second, and the group and its members come first. You’re not who you were before, but you’re working off your karmic debt toward who you want to be. They even give you a new name.”

  “They gave my mother one.”

  “How long was she a member?”

  “A long time. I first heard her mention them about twenty-five years ago.”

  Luc sat up straight and turned toward me, his face serious.

  “Twenty-five years?”

  “Yes.”

  “That means that she was one of the originals. She helped build the center that you are going to see.”

  “I find that hard to believe. My mother wasn’t very good at manual labor.”

  “This is not a joke. She must have been very important to them. What was her name?”

  “Rachel. Devedra.”

  “Philippe’s wife.” He lit another cigarette. “Merde.”

  I felt my face get hot as I watched him drag on the cigarette and shake his head.

  “She was not his wife.”

  “She was his spirit wife,” he said, sighing heavily. “That is what they call it, when you’re with someone in the organization, even if you’re already with someone else on the outside. Convenient, no? They have a whole wedding ceremony, and the ‘wife’ signs over everything to her new husband. What a racket. My ex-girlfriend became a spirit bride of that asshole son of his. Well, she was one of them. She used to wear a little ring and everything.”

  I felt my flesh go cold as soon as he said it, and I instinctively hid my hand beneath the table. My mother must have promised whatever she had to the Seekers, and this ring proved it.

  “Did you ever meet my mother?”

  “No. But I did see her, and of course I’d heard of her. But I was too low, and too poor, on the ladder to mix.”

  “I’m sorry. I really didn’t know much about them. And what I did know, I didn’t like.”

  “And yet you travel all this way to meet with them?”

  “My mother and I weren’t close. I’m just trying to understand.”

  “Them or her?”

  “Both.”

  “Be careful,” he said as he lifted my chin and stared into my eyes. “They won’t tell you the truth.”

  “Oh yes they will, and I’m not leaving until I get it.” I closed my hand tightly around the ring and took a deep breath. If anyone was actually watching me, or looking over me, I needed them to pay extra attention today.

  I decided to walk to the Wellness Center after having learned it was just under an hour away. I left the hotel and headed north to Cardinal Lemoine, my boots clacking along the cobblestone streets lined with shops selling their goods out front, stacked high in wooden crates. Bottles of wine with beautiful labels sold for little more than a bottle of water, and everywhere the scent of fresh bread was met with that of cheeses and of crêpes being cooked at roadside carts. I inhaled the cool morning air deeply and could almost taste the Nutella being slathered onto the crêpes students were grabbing for breakfast on their way to school. For once I didn’t hate the fact it was winter. Here life didn’t seem to slow down with the cold; the streets were full and busy, the markets crowded with shoppers and vendors who were bundled up in oversize scarves, their hands moving quickly in fingerless gloves. I understood very little French, but I loved the sound of it just the same. There was something wonderful about not knowing what people around me were saying, as if not understanding the language gave me license to just stare and enjoy them. I moved briskly along Rue Monge, past Boulevard St. Germain, until I came to Shakespeare and Co. The famous bookstore with its green and yellow façade was packed to capacity with locals and tourists combing through the sale shelves out front. I could easily imagine my mother parked on the bench outside lingering over her beloved books. I checked my little map and made a left at quai de Conti. I was a long way from Los Angeles. I was a long way away from anything that I knew, and yet I walked with purpose, not sure what I was walking into, but sure of my reasons for doing so.

  After another twenty minutes I arrived at the Musée d’Orsay and made a left down the rue de Bellechasse. It was just a name, until you separated it into two words, belle and chasse, translating into either “good hunting” or “beautiful search.” Both were accurate: one described the greed of the organization, and the other the desires of its members. I stopped in front of what looked like a small museum, but then again most of the buildings here did. Even the government buildings were magnificent centuries-old sculptures with large wrought iron gates and private entrances that looked like they’d once been mansions of the incredibly wealthy. I ran my hand along the stone columns at the entryway and over the small gold plaque with the center’s name. The age and stature of the building made it seem as if the Seekers had been here forever, but the dates on their pamphlets and in their books revealed they’d only been publishing since the 1950s. Still, the building was im
pressive, and impressions were important.

  “I’m sorry, madame, but without an appointment, I’m afraid waiting won’t do you any good,” said the young receptionist from behind her information desk. “You are welcome to take some of our literature and come back at a scheduled time.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I said, seating myself in the overstuffed leather chair in the lobby, next to the bubbling fountain full of floating lotus flowers.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” she said, coming out from behind her desk and walking over to me.

  “Just give him this, and if he doesn’t come out after he reads it, I’ll go.” I took one of the flyers off the table and wrote on the back, A la prochaine…Elsie, folded it in half, and handed it to her. “I’ll wait.”

  She took the folded piece of paper and strode off down the hall.

  This place felt more like a spa than a wellness center, with its organic-green-tea dispenser, pitcher of water with lemon slices, and plate of freshly cut oranges to enjoy while you waited. I looked at the pamphlets on the table advertising their meditation retreats. For thousands of dollars, a member could have one-on-one counseling sessions with Henri and the chance to meditate and do yoga with celebrity instructors. Their brochures were full of testimonials from CEOs and successful artists who claimed they had seen the light and realized their true destinies as members of the Seekers. Through loyal devotion they’d been able to reverse illness and change misfortunes into fortunes by paying off their karmic debt, just as Henri had.

  Along the walls were a series of photographs in gold frames documenting the history of the center from twenty-five years ago until the present day. The original building looked more like a small schoolhouse than the grand structure I stood in now. It sat on a wide expanse of land, presumably outside the city, with a small wooden sign hanging off the center of the roof. In front of the building a few members of the Seekers stood close together and smiled at the camera. In the center was Philippe, strong and proud, his chest puffed out as the camera captured his moment.

  I looked at the other faces in the line and saw my mother’s. She looked to be about my age. She was wearing a cotton skirt that was belted across her trim waist, and a simple blouse with the Van Cleef & Arpels pin. So that’s when she got it. It must’ve been a gift from Philippe.

  The other photos were of this new building and its transformation into the Wellness Center: members holding paint brushes, putting up new walls, and tiling the entryway, their faces beaming with smiles. The final photo showed the completed center, with hundreds of people standing in front holding a ribbon being cut by Philippe. Henri was on one side of his father and my mother was on the other, holding his arm, the large ivory and gold ring on display for all to see. According to the date, it had been taken only two years ago, and I wondered if my mother had known she was sick at the time. She was extremely thin, and her hair, although completely gray, was tucked up at the nape of her neck in the same chignon she always wore. She was as put together as ever, but it was the look shining in her eyes that really struck me, the look of genuine pride. She was where she wanted to be.

  I thought of all the time she’d spent at the sideline of Philippe’s life, working with him to raise money for the Seekers, and it would seem it had all paid off, as she stood next to the man and the cause, front and center for all to see. I wondered where her spirit brothers and sisters had been as she lay in bed dying halfway across the world.

  I looked down the hallway where the receptionist had gone, but there was little to see past the thick, frosted-glass doors etched with the Seekers logo. A logo, and a little trademark symbol next to it—that was new. They really had come a long way since gathering in loaned meeting places. I touched the ivory ring in my pocket and tried to still my heart. For a moment I wondered if Henri would even remember me, or if he’d just read the note, stare at it blankly, and send the receptionist back after telling her he had no idea what it meant. I didn’t have to wonder much longer, as the young woman returned. She placed her hand on my shoulder and smiled one of those insipid smiles meant to convey sincerity. Instinctively I pulled back.

  “You’re Devedra’s daughter. You should’ve just said so.”

  I cringed as she said my mother’s spirit name. She tilted her head, then turned back toward the frosted doors. “Follow me.”

  I did as she said, and at the end of a long hallway we came to two more double doors that she opened for me. Henri stood with his back to me, facing the windows that overlooked the highly manicured French gardens with a mini-labyrinth, sculptures, and a fountain. Outside, members were reading, walking the garden, or sitting in meditation, all under the eye of the man who they lay their total trust in. I stood in the doorway and waited.

  Henri slowly turned to face me, holding his palms upward and extended, as if I was to walk forward and take them. He looked exactly as he did on the back of his book, tanned and clean cut, no longer stooped at the shoulders; he stood tall and confident. “I am very sorry about your mother. We all are.”

  I said nothing. It wasn’t the greeting I expected to hear after all these years.

  “Please, Elsie, come in, come in.”

  He gestured to the seat in front of me, and I took it as he sat in his oversize leather chair, the desk separating us. “It’s been a long time,” he said. “Where to begin?” He opened his face into a wide smile, but the gray eyes, once so soulful I could get lost in them, remained guarded. Maybe it wasn’t as easy to pretend in front of someone who’d seen all the crazy that you had to offer.

  “How about here?” I replied, gesturing to his massive office. “This is a surprise.”

  “Only to you, and maybe me at first,” he said, forcing a small laugh. “But this was always meant to happen.”

  “Fate. Karma,” I said, hanging onto the last word.

  “Yes. I take it you still don’t believe.” He folded his hands under his chin and leaned on them.

  “Just not in the same way you do.” It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in karma, or cause and effect, it was that I didn’t believe we were powerless in our own lives and destinies. “You didn’t used to believe either. You were on a mission to expose your father and the group. And me.” I felt my voice break a little at the memory of Henri yelling “whore” on the street.

  “That was a lifetime ago. So much has happened since. I understand you’ve been married and divorced, and I am married with three children. We are no longer the children we were when our parents introduced us, when we still lived at home.”

  “I haven’t lived at home for a long time. You, on the other hand, look like you never left.” I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from losing control.

  He tightened his jaw and his face went red. “I can see you’re still angry, and I suppose you’re right.” He took a breath and exhaled slowly. “I should have apologized for that night. I was sick and confused. I was lost and I needed help.”

  “And the group helped you.”

  “They did. And I realized if they could help me, just think of all the others they could help. But it would take vision, someone who was willing to do more than just spread the word and be adored by his followers, someone who was willing to devote himself to making the Seekers the refuge we are now. It may hurt you to hear it, but that night was one of the best nights of my life. I heard my calling and I answered, and it has brought me here.”

  “And judging from the photos I passed in the hallway, here is a long way from the original center.”

  “People have been very generous,” he said, looking at me.

  “People like my mother?”

  “Yes. Thanks to people like her we are no longer meeting in conference rooms and public parks. She was devoted to the group, and she was determined to make amends. It was why she joined in the first place.”

  “Amends for what?” What else had she hidden from me?

  “She never told you?” His face softened, and he stood up an
d came around the desk and sat in the chair next to me.

  “My mother told me a lot of things; what was true and what wasn’t, I’m still trying to find out.”

  “The truth about your father.”

  I felt my whole body stiffen. “What do you know about my father?”

  “What your mother was afraid to tell you.”

  My heart was beating faster now, and I worried Henri would hear it. Had my mother really shared the secret of my paternity with him?

  “She already told me Howard wasn’t my real father, but his brother, Leo, was. What I don’t know is why she told you.” I crossed my arms and waited for his answer.

  “We don’t have secrets here.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “When members are initiated they unburden themselves to the group’s leader.”

  “To Philippe you mean.”

  “Yes, and in turn to me.”

  I stared at Henri, my eyes wide in surprise. What happened to Philippe?

  Henri hesitated a moment before answering. “What she didn’t tell you was that Leo had drunk himself into a stupor at a party earlier in the evening and had embarrassed her in front of everyone. He was in no shape to drive, but Rachel insisted they leave and let him get behind the wheel. She was angry at the way he behaved, and he was furious she was criticizing him. They fought bitterly and were so busy yelling at each other that they didn’t see the other car coming until it was too late. Rachel blamed herself. If only she hadn’t let him drive. If only they’d stayed behind at the party until he sobered up, things might have turned out differently.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” The words came out in a whisper.

  “Because you should know.” He reached for my hand and gently placed it in his, putting his other hand on top. The gesture, together with the look on his face, made him seem almost vulnerable, like the Henri I’d once cared for. “She came to us for salvation, Elsie. To right her karma.”