Chapter 3 Lorna Now
The bodhi tao bliss retreat and spa was one of those swank West Austin places, set on lush acreage on the banks of Lake Austin.
In other words, it was for rich people. There were cabins for long-term residents of the program (Lorna wondered how long anyone would want to be part of the program.
One month? Three months? A year?), all on the water, all with little patios, the length of a fishing line from the shore.
There were activities like paddleboarding, yoga, and nature walks.
Gentle music drifted through the trees from the same apparatus that provided the soft lighting, following people wherever they went.
And a scent that Lorna found cloying—incense—smothered any other natural smells.
People wandered around in slide-on sandals and those plush white bathrobes that had made her angry when they bid the job. Servers milled about with trays of orange juice and green cleanses. The whole thing was so Austin that Lorna couldn’t help but grit her teeth.
She’d worn trousers and a smart jacket to her first appointment because she was a professional.
And a wee bit insecure. She certainly wasn’t the type to show up at the grocery store or pharmacy in denim shorts, and she wasn’t the type to wear leggings to a place like this.
But she was the only one dressed in this manner—everyone else was wearing loungewear. Everyone was way too casual these days.
The young woman behind the counter was all smiles and soft white linen. She had inky-black hair that hung down her back in a silky tail. Her skin, Lorna couldn’t help noticing, was flawless. “Good morning,” she said brightly. “You’re Lorna Lott?”
Obviously. She had just given the woman her driver’s license and paperwork. “Yes.”
“Purrrfect,” the girl said. Her name tag said Xandra, which Lorna guessed she’d spent her entire life spelling for baristas, who still got it wrong. She might have attempted a joke about the woman’s name but, given her recent history, thought it better to remain silent.
“If you will come this way,” Xandra said, and began to walk down a hall. “Did you bring a change of clothes?”
“What?” The first signs of panic erupted on Lorna’s scalp in the form of aggressive tingling. “Was I supposed to?”
“Not necessarily. Some people like to change into something comfy.”
Comfy? No one said prepare to be comfy! she silently screamed.
Xandra opened the door to a stark white room.
White beanbags were scattered about the floor, and a few white chairs were arranged around small white writing desks.
The room smelled of incense, and classical guitar music was playing faintly in the background, the sound competing with the trickle of a small water feature running in the corner.
Lorna stepped into the room as a dark slash across this otherwise snowy landscape. King Kong strikes again.
She turned back to Xandra. “I think there must be some mistake. I am here for the wellness program.”
“Yes, we have you down for that. This is where we start the program. There are a few intake questions we need you to answer.” She handed Lorna an iPad. It was white.
Lorna handed it back. “I already did that over the phone.”
Xandra handed the iPad back to her again. “That was the initial intake. This is the more in-depth one.”
Lorna slowly, reluctantly held on to the iPad. She’d thought the initial interview was invasive enough, asking her height and weight and if she was on any medications. Why did anyone need to know that?
“Have a seat wherever you feel most comfortable and fill it out. Your concierge will be in to fetch you for the morning meditation in about thirty minutes.”
“I haven’t signed up for any classes yet,” Lorna said. “What do you mean, concierge?”
“Morning meditation is not a class. We start each day by centering ourselves. Everyone on campus is expected to participate. Your concierge will explain all.” She pressed her palms together at her chest and bowed.
“Great, thanks,” Lorna muttered, but Xandra had already exited stage left.
With a sigh of annoyance, Lorna looked around the room.
The beanbags were interesting, but there was no way she was going to humiliate herself by trying to get up and down from one of those.
She picked a desk and chair in the corner of the room, as far from the door as she could be, and swiped the iPad to get started.
The first thing the form required was a name, which annoyed Lorna, since they already had it. Same for her address. She wondered if Driskill’s workflow design was responsible for this crappy interface. She would love to give that smug engineer Gordon her feedback.
She answered more routine questions, dashing off her yes-no replies with little thought, until she got to a group of questions that gave her pause. Are you sexually active? What is your gender preference? Do you identify as LGBTQ+?
Wow. Nosy much? She couldn’t imagine what that information had to do with why she was here. Not that she completely understood why she was here, but unless they were worried about a venereal disease, she didn’t think it was germane. They had some nerve to ask.
From there, the questions became increasingly intrusive.
Do you abuse substances? If yes, what substance and how often per week?
Have you had any thoughts about harming or killing yourself in the last ninety days?
Do you ever have any thoughts about harming or killing someone else?
Do you ever hear voices? Do you sleep through the night?
She had the urge to harm some thing else right this minute.
She continued down the list, dashing off no no no .
Frankly, she wasn’t sure what embarrassed her more—that she was not currently sexually active or that she wasn’t cool enough to smoke pot.
Why couldn’t they ask something that would give them real information about her, like did she have a dog?
Everyone knew that dog lovers were generally better people than those who didn’t love dogs.
Why didn’t they ask if she took care of her mother when she was dying with cancer? Didn’t that count for something?
By the time she finished, sharp pangs of regret for agreeing to this were shooting through her bowels.
A brisk knock on the door was followed by the entrance of a young man dressed in all white, his skin as dark as her suit. “Hello, Lorna,” he said.
“Hello... you.”
“My apologies, I should have said. I am Montreal.”
Lorna blinked. “Not Toronto?”
Montreal smiled. “Montreal. My sister is Toronto.”
“Seriously?”
“No.” He chuckled. “I’m an only child. Have you completed the intake?”
She handed him the white iPad.
“Wonderful. It’s time for the morning meditation. If you will follow me.”
With a grunt, Lorna got up. “For the record, I don’t actually do meditation.”
Montreal merely smiled.
She followed him down another white hall and into a gymnasium.
At least here, there were people dressed in something other than all white.
But there were a lot of those fluffy white bathrobes wandering about too.
And she was the only person wearing a suit.
Great, another fashion disaster. Just buy a few potato sacks and call it.
There were people handing out braided mats. Montreal handed one to Lorna and invited her to sit where she felt comfortable. “I’ll fetch you after our morning practice.” He smoothly disappeared into the crowd.
Lorna felt conspicuous. Like it was obvious to the dozens of people in here that she did not belong.
She would have felt more comfortable in an office.
But she found a space and put her mat down, then somehow maneuvered herself onto it, even crisscrossing her legs while praying her tight pants didn’t split.
There was a platform stage at one end of the gym, a lone ottoman the only thing on it.
A man with a high bun of hair appeared through a side door, walked up onto the stage, then arranged himself in a seated position on the ottoman, his legs crossed, feet on his knees.
He was not wearing white, but purple and green robes.
A long gold chain with some sort of emblem Lorna couldn’t make out hung from his neck.
She sincerely hoped she hadn’t gotten mixed up with a cult.
“Good morning,” he said. He spoke softly through a mic pinned to his lapel, his pitch a little higher than she might have expected from looking at him. “Welcome, everyone, and a particular welcome to our newcomers. Could we have a show of hands?”
Lorna didn’t raise her hand. She didn’t want any attention. She mentally tried to squeeze herself into a smaller frame.
The man with the bun looked at the few hands that had gone up, clasped his hands in a prayer pose, and bowed his head to them.
“Our morning meditation is designed to help alleviate stress and center one’s thoughts for the day’s work ahead.
Please close your eyes and empty your mind. Let your breath be your guide.”
Lorna closed her eyes. Emptying her mind was impossible. All sorts of thoughts were pinging through just now. Will they let me leave here or is this a “Hotel California” situation? How long do we have to keep our eyes closed? Is anyone looking at me? What’s the deal with his sorcerer robes?
“Please begin by counting your breaths.” He made a very loud inhaling noise that lasted forever, then slowly released it.
Lorna took a deep breath too. I hate this. Why empty your mind when there is so much to think about? I don’t have time to be here. Deb didn’t have to make me do this. Man, my pants are tight. My leg is falling asleep. Did I give Agnes her biscuit this morning?
“Breathe in, breathe out slowly,” the man said.