Nine Perfect Strangers

Did they laugh more before?

Back when she was working in admin and he was a panel beater working for Pete, back when Ben drove a V8 Commodore that didn’t make anyone look twice, and she had B-cup boobs that didn’t make anyone look twice either, back when they thought going to a movie and the local Thai restaurant on the same night was splurging and when the arrival of the credit card statement each month was, like, really stressful and even once made her cry?

She didn’t want to believe it was better before. If it was, then her mother was right, and she couldn’t stand it if her mother was right.

Ben turned the fan down to a gentler breeze. Jessica removed the pillow from her face, closed her eyes and felt her heart race with fear of something unnamed and unknown.

It made her think of the vertiginous fear she’d felt the day of the robbery. It was two years ago now that she’d come home from work to discover their ground-floor apartment had been robbed, their possessions strewn everywhere with aggressive, malicious abandon, every drawer open, a black footprint across her white t-shirt, the glint of broken glass.

Ben arrived home just moments later. ‘What the hell?’

She didn’t know if he immediately thought of his sister, but she did.

Ben’s sister, Lucy, had ‘mental health issues’. That was the euphemism Ben’s lovely, long-suffering mother used. The truth was that Ben’s sister was an addict.

Lucy’s life was an endless rollercoaster and they all had to take the same ride, over and over, without getting off. Lucy was missing. No-one had heard from her. Lucy had turned up in the middle of the night and trashed the house. Ben’s mum had to call the police. They were planning an intervention! But they were going to handle this intervention differently from the last intervention; this time it would work. Lucy was doing well! Lucy was talking about rehab. Lucy was in rehab! Lucy was out of rehab. Lucy had been in another car accident. Lucy was pregnant again. Lucy was fucked up and there would never be an end to it, and because Jessica had never known the Lucy of before, the Lucy who was supposedly funny and smart and kind, it was hard not to hate her.

Lucy was the reason for the underlying tension at every event with Ben’s family. Would she turn up demanding money or screaming insults or crying crocodile tears because she ‘just wanted to be a mum’ to the two children she was incapable of bringing up?

Everyone knew Lucy stole. If you went to a barbecue at Ben’s place you hid your cash. So it was perfectly natural that Jessica’s first thought when she walked into the apartment that day was: Lucy.

She’d tried so hard not to say it but she couldn’t help it. Just that one word. She wished she could take it back. She hadn’t made it sound enough like a question. She’d made it sound like a statement. She wished she’d at least said, ‘Lucy?’

She remembered how Ben shook his head. His face was drawn tight with shame.

She had thought, How do you know it wasn’t her?

But it turned out he was right. The robbery had nothing to do with Lucy. She was on the other side of the country at the time.

So it was just an ordinary happens-to-lots-of-people house robbery. They hadn’t lost much because they didn’t have much to lose: an old iPad with a cracked screen, a necklace that Ben had given Jessica for her twenty-first. It had a tiny diamond pendant and it had cost Ben something like two months’ salary. She’d loved that necklace and still mourned it, even though it had just been a crappy little necklace with a smidge of a diamond, like a quarter-carat. The thieves had rejected the rest of Jessica’s jewellery box, which she found humiliating. Jessica and Ben had both hated the feeling of knowing that someone had walked through their home, sneering, as if browsing through an unsatisfactory shop.

The insurance company paid out without much fuss, but Ben and Jessica had to pay a five-hundred-dollar excess, which they resented because they hadn’t asked to be robbed.

It was just an ordinary robbery, except that it ended up changing their lives forever.

‘Why are you staring at me like that?’ asked Ben. He stood at the end of the bed, looking down at her.

Jessica’s gaze came back into focus. ‘Like what?’

‘Like you’re planning to cut off my balls with a cheese knife.’

‘What? I wasn’t even looking at you. I was thinking.’

He kept chewing the remains of his apple and raised an eyebrow. The very first time they ever made eye contact in Mr Munro’s maths class he did that: a cool, laconic lift of his left eyebrow. It was literally the hottest thing she’d seen in her entire life and maybe if he’d raised two eyebrows, instead of one, she wouldn’t have fallen in love with him.

‘I don’t even have a cheese knife,’ said Jessica.

He smiled as he threw the apple core into the bin from across the room and picked up their welcome pack.

‘We’d better read this, hey?’ He ripped open the envelope and papers went flying. Jessica managed to stop herself from grabbing at it and putting it all back in order. She was the one in charge of paperwork. If it were up to Ben they would never file a tax return.

He opened what looked like a covering letter. ‘Okay, so this is a “guide map” for our “wellness journey”.’

‘Ben,’ said Jessica, ‘this isn’t going to work if we don’t –’

‘I know, I know, I am taking it seriously. I drove down that road, didn’t I? Didn’t that show my commitment?’

‘Oh, please don’t start on the car again.’ She felt like crying.

‘I only meant –’ His mouth twisted. ‘Forget it.’

He scanned the letter and read out loud. ‘Welcome to your wellness journey, yada, yada. The retreat will begin with a period of silence lasting five days, during which there will be no talking, apart from counselling sessions, no touching, no reading, no writing, no eye contact with other guests or your own companions – what the?’

‘This wasn’t mentioned on the website,’ said Jessica.

Ben continued to read out loud, ‘You may be familiar with the term “monkey brain”.’

He looked up at Jessica. She shrugged, so he kept reading. ‘Monkey brain refers to the way your mind swings from thought to thought like a monkey swinging from branch to branch.’ Ben made a sound like a monkey and scratched under his arm to demonstrate.

‘Thanks for that.’ Jessica felt the tug of a smile. Sometimes they were fine.

Ben read on. ‘It takes at least twenty-four hours to silence monkey brain. A period of nourishing silence and reflection settles the mind, body and soul. Our aim will be to discover a beautiful state that Buddhism calls “noble silence”.’

‘So we’re just going to spend the next five days avoiding eye contact and not talking?’ said Jessica. ‘Even when we’re alone in our room?’

‘It’s not like we don’t have any experience with that,’ said Ben.

‘Very funny,’ said Jessica. ‘Give me that.’

She took the letter and read. ‘During the silence we request that you walk slowly and mindfully, with intention, heel to toe, about the property, while avoiding eye contact and conversation. If you must communicate with a staff member, please come to reception and follow the instructions on the laminated blue card. There will be guided meditation sessions – both walking and sitting – throughout each day. Please listen for the bells.’

She put the letter down. ‘This is going to be so freaky. We’ll have to eat with strangers in total silence.’

‘Better than boring small talk, I guess,’ said Ben. He looked at her. ‘Do you want to do it properly? We could talk here in our room and nobody would ever know.’

Jessica thought about it.

‘I think we should do it properly,’ she said. ‘Don’t you? Even if it sounds stupid, we should just follow the rules and do whatever they say.’

‘Fine with me,’ said Ben. ‘As long as they don’t tell me to jump off a cliff.’ He scratched his neck. ‘I don’t get what we’re going to do here.’