The Retreat, page 21
“Right. Hmmm. I just … well, Katie has had some trouble with a stalker, and I wondered … with Lily using a different name…” Ellie let her voice drift. Naomi just looked at her. “But then, it seems Katie is equally as stressed by her absence. I find it all very baffling.”
“Tell her to come to me for a treatment. I can help.”
“I will.” Ellie had been hoping for more information about the sponsor. Whether she was coming back or if this sponsor had other people looking for Lily now. But at least she’d started to lay the groundwork; in case Lily’s body was discovered, she had to start protecting herself now. There was no way she was going to go down as an accomplice to Katie Manning.
“Now I think you better come with me.” Naomi dropped her basket of precious spinach.
“Oh, um, why?”
“Because you’re the one in need of immediate help. You’re emitting a very anxious aura and I think your preoccupation with your friend is a way to self-sabotage your own wellness journey. Come, come.” Naomi was already walking away and expecting Ellie to follow, which she did, because Naomi was right. She was feeling anxious. She needed to slow down her thoughts and take some time for deep breathing, or else she was bound to make more mistakes.
ARIEL
A deer looked up at her with one lashy, mournful eye, its nostrils flaring. It struggled to get up, legs doing a feeble Bambi-on-ice twitch and then gave up.
“It’s been hit by a car,” Dr. Dave said solemnly, pressing the knife into Ariel’s hand. “It made its way this far, and now it’s slowly dying. Probably bleeding out.”
Ariel held the knife. Her eyes skittering between the deer and the knife. “And you want me to…” Her voice edged up toward a shriek.
“I don’t want you to do anything. I’m just showing you a life-or-death situation and giving you a tool to handle it. It’s up to you to decide what to do.”
Probably bleeding out? What if it wasn’t? What if it was just hurt, like something was sprained and tomorrow it would be doing just fine and back to doing whatever deer did in the woods? It’s not like its vitals had been taken or an X-ray was done. A doctor didn’t just look at someone and say, “Slit ’er neck, because it looks like she’s on ’er way out.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
“You can. I know you can.”
“I’m too scared.”
“Ride that wave of fear, Ariel. I want you to know how powerful you are, how you can take a new path rooted in infinite possibility. There are no mistakes, Ariel, only choices that lead you to the place where you are right now—this situation with me—and if you open yourself up, everything serves your deepest awakening. You can’t escape yourself, so why not be your best self?”
The doe was making heavy, ragged bleating noises that made Ariel squeamish. “I can’t. I really can’t.”
Dr. Dave looked annoyed, and then he just shrugged. “All right. Okay, then. If you can’t, you can’t.” He took the knife back and emitted a disappointed sigh. “Let’s go, then.” He started to walk away. His sudden movement made the deer try to get up again—a sad, pathetic sight.
“You’re just going to leave it here? Shouldn’t we help it?”
“You decided not to help it, Ariel.”
“And what about you? Can’t you do something?” She was getting angry now. She did not do well under pressure, especially not when she was feeling criticized.
“I chose to help you and not the deer.” Dr. Dave whipped around and grabbed her shoulders. Ariel braced herself, expecting that he was going to shake her, but he didn’t. He let her go with a kind of resignation that made Ariel feel desperate.
“Give it to me. The knife.” She held her hand out for it.
Dr. Dave stood there a second, then made a big production of taking it back out of its sheath hanging from his belt. “You need to be quick, Ariel. Straight across the neck. You’ll torture it if you don’t go hard and all the way.”
Ariel stomped back toward the deer. Again, this was not how she had envisioned this weekend. Among all the cashmere throws and steaming cups of hot chocolate that had danced in her head, there were no mercy kills.
And yet she knew she was capable of violence, maybe even of killing something. Someone.
But that was different. Rob’s wife had attacked her first.
It was only five days ago when she’d driven over to Rob’s house. At first, it was just one of her masochistic drive-bys, where she would park across the street and watch his house. Knowing Rob had his tidy little life inside. A wife and a child on the way.
Then Ariel had felt the biting urge for equilibrium. Why should Rob get to have it all and leave her single? She had believed in that moment that if she hadn’t met Rob, if he hadn’t promised a future with him, she wouldn’t have stayed so long in Shakopee. She would have gone back to New York City, would have had a different, much more fabulous life.
He was to blame.
She wanted to tell Rob’s wife about their affair. The timing was right, because Rob worked late on Tuesdays. And maybe too because she knew she was going away that weekend or because again, she was already feeling a tad high from watching all Dr. Dave’s self-empowerment YouTube videos. She went up and knocked on the door.
No answer.
She tried the handle, and the door opened.
It was dusky and quiet inside.
A large wedding picture hung over their fireplace, Rob in his tux, clinging to his wife from behind. Bridget smiling so hard that it looked painful. Another large multi-photo frame with shots from a trip to somewhere tropical, with wall decals looped over it that spelled FAMILY.
Ariel suddenly had a burning urge to see the second floor. Where Rob slept with his pretty wife. She made her way upstairs and was immediately drawn to the freshly painted pink nursery. Little onesies were tightly folded and lined up in a basket under the changing table patterned with ladybugs, DADDY’S GIRL, and baked goods that this baby girl would one day beat herself up for eating. And then there was the requisite framed picture of the sonogram. This black-and-white blotch of a thing.
The ceiling light, a pink chandelier, flicked on.
“Why don’t you make yourself at home?” It was Rob’s wife standing at the door of the nursery, her skin glowing, cheeks red. She was perfectly pregnant, in the way that her pregnancy hadn’t touched any other part of her body. Her face wasn’t puffy, no extra weight had been gained. Bridget rested her hands protectively across her adorable beach ball–size belly. “I know why you’re here.” Bridget smirked at Ariel. “And you need to leave my husband alone.”
“Leave him alone?” Ariel practically guffawed. “We’ve been sleeping together.” Her voice sounded tinny in the pink room.
“You think I didn’t know that? I’ve been with my husband since eighth grade.” Rob had never told Ariel that. “You think you could show up here, tell me that my husband stuck his dick in you, and what? I would meekly move out so you could move in like the interloper you are?”
This wasn’t how Ariel had planned it. She’d pictured tears, then wine being poured, the two of them forming an alliance. Rob’s wife wasn’t taking her seriously. Pretty, thin women like her never did. It was as if her fatness was an advertisement for own lack of willpower. They thought she was weak.
“I’m pregnant,” Ariel lied. She couldn’t stand to be dismissed like this. Couldn’t stand that Rob’s wife had hijacked this whole confrontation.
“No, you’re not. You’re a frumpy, unassertive, emotionally stunted idiot. I’ve already called the police. You’re going to be charged for stalking and trespassing. Now get the fuck out of here.” Anger, hot as bile, crept up Ariel’s throat.
“Fine, but I am really pregnant, and Rob will have to pay child support for the next eighteen years, at least,” Ariel said as she tried to pass Rob’s wife, still standing in the doorway. Bridget lunged and grabbed Ariel’s hair and used it like handlebars to shake her head back and forth.
They tumbled out into the hallway.
Ariel tried to get loose from the woman’s grip. Her eyes were watering. She couldn’t see anything. She wanted to get away. She wanted to go home.
Ariel still wasn’t sure how it happened, but she tried to buck Rob’s wife off her, and the next thing she knew, his wife was at the bottom of the stairs, screaming, “My baby! My baby!” her legs pointlessly writhing like the deer’s were now.
The deer snorted as Ariel moved in close.
She knelt next to it, murmuring, “It’s okay, s’okay, s’okay,” to the deer. It was panting now, so fast its tongue lolled out of its mouth. She took the knife and pressed its sharp tip into the animal’s neck. Hesitated. Ariel’s arms were rubbery from the ax chopping.
The doe’s eye was fixed on her. Was it pleading for her to stop or to hurry up?
She lifted the knife and brought it down hard, stabbing the deer in its neck. She shifted and straddled the deer. Lifted its head and started to drag the knife across its neck.
Viscous blood spilled out.
Her heart beat wildly in her chest, and every nerve ending in her body was perked and alive.
Ariel’s hands were still dripping blood when Dr. Dave came up behind her. He wrapped his arm around her waist. He was so rangy and tall, she felt petite in his embrace. “I knew you could do it, Ariel.” He pulled her back into him and pressed his hard-on into her.
How did he know she wasn’t going to say no? How did he know how much she wanted him?
She turned around and kissed him, leaving a bloodied handprint on his cheek. He pushed her down to the ground. Ariel peeled off her shorts as he unbuckled his pants and then parted her legs that looked so ridiculously office-white next to his sun-bronzed skin.
He thrust into her, squeezing her breasts through her shirt.
Ariel was surprised and oh so pleased when she came, quickly and hard, and they were finished before the deer had bled out.
CARMEN
Carmen arrived back at the retreat just before dinner.
She’d managed to get rid of the officer easily enough. She’d told him she was staying at the Sanctuary and that she just needed a little break from the healthy eating and that she was so, so ashamed, but she’d finished an entire box of powdered doughnuts.
He rolled his eyes but nodded like he understood. “You ask me? That place is full of wing nuts. I would just keep driving if I were you.”
Carmen flung herself out of the SUV, set on going straight to her room to hide her backpack, which was now full to the brim with “cocaine.”
Dr. Dave cut her off in the driveway.
“Welcome back, Carmen.” He gave her a stiff smile. “We’ve all been waiting for you.” He motioned toward the front lawn, where all the retreaters were gathered in a circle with what looked like sleeping bags.
“Oh, sure. I just need to put my backpack up in my room.”
“I will take if for you, the group has waited long enough.” Dr. Dave tried to take the backpack off her shoulder but she swung, too wildly, away from his reach.
“Nope, I’m good. I’ll just keep it. What’s the exercise this time, Dr. Dave?” Carmen’s voice dipped into sarcasm but she couldn’t help how irritated she felt. She wanted to immediately stow her backpack someplace safe.
“I’m about to explain. Take a seat, please.” He motioned for her to take the only vacant spot in the circle. She sat down between Ariel and Anthony. Simon was across from her. She’d cleaned herself up as much as possible in the bathroom at the car wash, but there were still some powdery streaks on her tank top and shorts. Did Simon notice?
“What took you so long?” Ariel leaned in and whispered.
“I got lost.”
“He made us wait for you, you know,” Anthony piped in, sounding very irritated at the delay.
“Where’s the snacks?” Ariel asked.
“Uh, still in the car,” Carmen answered. She still had her backpack on.
“Keep them away from me, okay? I don’t want to break my diet.”
Dr. Dave cleared his throat in their direction. Ariel sat up straight, her hands on her knees like a good little student.
“We are the alchemists of our own bodies and minds. We are now going to symbolically renew ourselves. Think of the bags before you as a place of transition. You might even envision them as cocoons or your mother’s womb. The point is, you’re going to get inside of them. Naomi will pull the drawstring tight, but don’t worry, these bags are burlap, so you can’t suffocate. Focus only on your breathing. Ask yourself this one question over and over, ‘Who do I want to be? Who do I want to be?’ When you have an answer, I want you to burst out and complete the transformation.”
Everyone immediately stood up and started stepping into their giant bags.
Carmen didn’t want to lose sight of her backpack. “I’m not really interested in getting into what is basically a body bag.”
Katie snickered. Simon was looking at Carmen again. Studying her body with a look on his face she couldn’t read.
“Then it is essential you do get into the bag; you should be interested in your own transformation, Carmen. Naomi can help you.” There was a testiness to Dr. Dave’s voice. Carmen knew that she was drawing attention to herself, and that she should just get into the bag.
Would it look odd if she kept her backpack on? She was going to keep it on. Naomi hustled over.
“You’re not Dora the Explorer, are you? Let’s take this off.” Before she could stop her, Naomi pried Carmen’s backpack off her. She flung it to the ground and Carmen’s body clenched. For a split second she expected one of the powder bricks to bust open and explode a puffy white cloud, and then the gig would be up. “Lean over, please,” Naomi demanded so she could tie the drawstring.
I can’t believe I am inside a fucking bag. What is the point of this? All of Dr. Dave’s exercises seemed like random salad bar offerings; too picked over, ultimately insubstantial, and left you hungry for something more.
And now she was standing in a burlap sack waiting to be reborn. Wasn’t Dr. Dave also promising that everyone was going to be reborn, transformed, or whatever tomorrow at the tea? How many times could one person be reborn over a single Memorial Day weekend? Dr. Dave was just an entrepreneur masked as a wellness evangelist, and not a very good one at that.
He was stretching out an ayahuasca tea ceremony, which should take a single evening, into several days, calling it his program and charging an exorbitant amount of money.
To what? Sweat inside a bag! Wasn’t this rebirthing technique used by quacky psychiatrists in the seventies? Didn’t people suffocate and die?
And what was his program exactly? It was like a variety show and if nothing stuck, then Dr. Delusional had the Hail Mary of the ayahuasca tea that he served at the end of the weekend, so that a hallucinogenic experience would bleed over or obscure everything else preceding it and people would go on to recommend the retreat as life-altering.
Carmen’s breathing went shallow. Panic was bubbling up her chest. She had forgotten she was a little claustrophobic. Maybe more than a little.
Breathe, breathe. Calm down. I can easily get out of this thing. Just focus on the backpack.
Carmen stood there, breathing, trying to keep an eye on her backpack through the burlap fabric. It had been right there, she was sure of it, but now she couldn’t see it. Where was her backpack? She jumped in a little circle looking for it, like she was in some blind potato sack race.
Someone was crying—was that Paula or Ariel? She couldn’t tell.
Where was the backpack?
Anthony was humming something familiar—was that the Super Mario Bros. soundtrack?
“I feel like I’m a giant bottle of Crown Royal!” That was definitely Katie.
Carmen still couldn’t spot the backpack. Naomi had to have taken it and put it somewhere. It had to be Naomi. Everyone else was inside a bag. That’s it. Calm down. Naomi had no reason to go through her bag. Calm. The. Fuck. Down. Breathe.
After what seemed an appropriate amount of time, she pushed her hands through the top of the sack, untied the knot, and tried to look like a totally new person than she had been fifteen minutes ago.
“How do you feel, Carmen?”
“Different. I actually feel amazing.” Inexplicably, Ariel whoop-whooped and hugged her.
“I told you we like a challenge.” Dr. Dave gave her a self-satisfied smile.
“Where’s my backpack?”
Suddenly Anthony burst out of his bag, sputtering and gasping, “I know what to write! I know what to do next in the game.” Dr. Dave took Anthony in an embrace and oddly, kissed the top of his head. Then Dr. Dave moved away from him, arched his back, and flung his arms out.
And there it is, Dr. Dave’s messiah complex on full display.
Carmen spotted her backpack; it was under a hammock. She grabbed it and darted back inside the Sanctuary.
* * *
The meal passed much like that of the night before.
Once the dishes were cleared, Naomi clapped her hands together and with over-the-top giddiness declared, “And now, let’s dance!”
Naomi and Dr. Dave led everyone outside, toward the lake.
Carmen guessed this beach party was supposed to come across as impulsive, but the fire was already lit on the beach, a variety of musical instruments were laid out, and there was a speaker hopefully cued to play good music, when the enthusiasm waned for the disharmony of untrained musicians.
It was as spontaneous as a set change. Even the beach was man-made. The dock was lit up with solar and rope lighting and had the look of an airport runway against the darkening sky.
Carmen and Katie, Ariel and Ellie all sat together on an itchy blanket.
Naomi immediately started drumming on some bongos, to get things going. Paula had maracas. Ariel hit some claves together. Katie had claves too and laughed her way through it. She was definitely drunk. Carmen knew by how her left eyelid was starting to droop. Katie’s Nalgene bottle was half-full of vodka, she could tell by the attention Katie was giving it. Once in college, Carmen went shopping with Katie, and by the end of the afternoon, she was inexplicably wasted. “I thought everyone drank on the down-low out of these.” Katie held up the Contigo thermos that Carmen had assumed was full of coffee.
