Masha
Two guests, Zoe Marconi and Frances Welty, had excused themselves from the meditation room and not yet come back. The silence had been broken and one guest, Tony Hogburn, was now demanding his money back and threatening to report Tranquillum House to the Department of Consumer Affairs, blah, blah, blah, Masha had heard it all before, while the remaining guests looked on with curiosity or concern.
Masha saw poor Yao shoot her an anxious look. He was a worrier. There was no need for stress. She could handle the childlike tantrums of one unhappy, unhealthy man. Solving unexpected problems energised her. It was one of her strengths.
‘I am very happy to give you a full refund.’ She fixed Tony with her eyes like a pin through a butterfly. ‘You are free to pack your bags and leave immediately. May I suggest you drive yourself to the nearest village, where you will find a fine pub called the Lion’s Heart? Their menu includes something called a “Mega Monster Burger” with unlimited fries and soft drink. Does that sound delicious?’
‘Sure does,’ said Tony truculently.
And yet he didn’t get to his feet. Oh, my sweetie pie, you need me. You know you need me. You don’t want to be you anymore. Of course you don’t. Who would?
He tried to wriggle free of her gaze but she wouldn’t let him. ‘I understand that you are not happy that we searched your bags, but the terms and conditions of your wellness contract clearly state that we have the right to search luggage and confiscate all contraband.’
‘Seriously? Did anyone read that?’ Tony looked around the room.
Napoleon raised his hand. His wife, Heather, lifted her eyes to the ceiling.
‘It must have been buried in the fine print,’ said Tony. His face had turned mottled red, the colour of uncooked steak.
‘Growth can be painful,’ Masha told him, her voice gentle. He was a child. An enormous sulky child. ‘There will be parts of this experience that may be uncomfortable or unpleasant at times. But it’s only ten days! The average person lives around twenty-seven thousand days.’
Tony’s outburst was actually a serendipitous opportunity to shape all their expectations and mould their future behaviour. She spoke as if only to him, but the message was for them all.
‘You are free to leave at any time, Tony. You are not a prisoner! This is a health resort, not a jail!’
A few people chuckled.
‘And you are not a child! You can drink what you want to drink, eat what you want to eat. But there is a reason why you came here, and if you choose to stay, I ask you to commit fully to your journey and to put your trust in me and the other staff at Tranquillum House.’
‘Yeah, fine, that’s . . . I mean, I obviously didn’t read the fine print properly.’ Tony scratched hard at the side of his unshaved face and tugged at the fabric of his dreadful hot heavy blue jeans. ‘I just didn’t appreciate my bags being searched.’ The aggression was draining from his voice. Now he sounded embarrassed. His eyes peered out at her from within the prison of his poor, tortured body from which he so desperately needed rescue.
She’d won. She had him. He would be beautiful when she finished with him. They would all be beautiful.
‘Are there any more areas of concern before we resume the silence?’
Ben raised his hand. Masha observed his wife flash him a look of horror and move slightly away.
‘Um, yeah, I have just one question. Are the cars parked undercover?’
She looked at him for a moment, long enough to help him see the sadness of this deep attachment to his earthly possessions.
He shifted uncomfortably.
‘They are parked undercover, Ben. Please don’t worry, they are perfectly safe.’
‘Okay, but, um, where are the cars? I’ve walked around the property and I just can’t see where . . .’ As he spoke he removed his cap and briskly rubbed the top of his head.
For the briefest of moments, Masha saw another boy wearing a baseball cap walking towards her, so strange and yet so familiar. She felt the love rise within her chest and she crossed her arms so she could secretly pinch the flesh on her arm, hard enough to hurt, until the vision vanished, and all that was left was here and now and the important tasks that lay ahead.
‘As I said, Ben, everyone’s cars are perfectly safe.’
He opened his mouth to speak yet again and his wife hissed something inaudible through her teeth. He closed his mouth.
‘So, if everyone is in agreement, I would like to recommence the noble silence and begin our guided meditation. Yao, perhaps you could ring the gong to let our missing guests know we would appreciate their return?’
Yao struck the gong with a mallet, perhaps a little more forcefully than Masha would have done, and within only a few moments Frances and Zoe had returned, their faces apologetic and guilty.
It was clear to Masha that they had been chatting, forming a friendship perhaps, which would need to be monitored. The point of the silence was to prevent this. She smiled benignly at them as they returned to their mats. Zoe’s parents sagged with relief.
‘Although I will be your guide today,’ she said, ‘meditation is a personal experience. Please release your expectations and open yourself to all possibilities. This is called a guided sitting meditation but that doesn’t mean you must sit! Please find the most natural, relaxed position for you. Some of you may like to sit cross-legged. Some of you may like to sit on a chair with your feet flat on the floor. Some of you may prefer to lie down. There are no hard and fast rules here!’
She watched as they chose their positions with self-conscious faces. Frances lay flat on her back. Tony went and sat on a chair, as did Napoleon. The rest remained cross-legged on their mats.
Masha waited until they were all settled. ‘Let your eyes drift closed.’
She could sense their fluttering spirits: their anxieties, hopes, dreams and fears. She was so good at this. It was a pleasure to excel.
Interviewers would one day ask, ‘Were you nervous when you first introduced the new protocol?’ Masha would answer, ‘Not at all. We’d done our research. We knew from the beginning it would be a success.’ It might be better to admit to a little nervousness. People in this country admired humility. The biggest compliment you could give a successful woman was to describe her as ‘humble’.
She looked at her nine guests, all of whom now had their eyes obediently closed as they awaited her instructions. Their destinies were in her hands. She was going to change them not just temporarily, but forever.
‘We will begin.’