Where Do We Go from Here? by Doris Dorrie

Author:Doris Dorrie
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781596917712
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2019-11-24T00:00:00+00:00

20

I N THE MIDDLE OF the night Norbert gives me a shake. It's a quarter-past five, he whispers. Get up! Meditation!

I turn over with a grunt, but once awake I can't get off to sleep again. I sit up, swearing. Theo, seated on his mattress, is pouring hot water into a cup from a vacuum flask. He produces some Nescafe from his bag. Coffee! I inhale the scent longingly. He sees the look on my face. Like some? he asks, and holds out the cup for me to take a sip, a sublime, glorious sip.

He signs to me to follow with a jerk of the head, so I climb into my trousers and stumble down the stairs in his wake, not forgetting to give my head another crack on the beam.

I put on my shoes, which are proving to be very impractical because I have to keep tying and untying the laces. Blearily, I shuffle outside into a dawn light as soft as a teenager's first kiss.

Gliding along in slow motion, figures are converging on the white tent from all directions. I hear a bell ring and a nun singing in Vietnamese. The combination of her singing and the baby-pink sky is sweeter than sugar, simply entrancing, so all at once I, too, glide slowly down the hill to the tent.

Shoes off again. I get in everyone's way because it takes so long to undo my laces. Maybe I should have acquired a pair of stupid sandals for this trip.

They all make for their cushions. I park myself on one near the entrance, so I can escape. It's terribly flat and compressed by long use, and the mat beneath it smells of sweaty feet. A gong sounds, and from then on nobody moves. Except me.

The cross-legged position I've adopted proves extremely uncomfortable after a few minutes. I surreptitiously try to adjust it, but the resulting noises are embarrassingly loud. My joints creak, the planks beneath me groan, the cushion rustles. The others are quiet as mice. No idea how they manage it. I could cry out, my knees hurt so much after another five minutes. I readjust my position, but now my back hurts instead. By the time I've more or less relieved that discomfort, my right foot has gone to sleep. It's all I can think of until a mosquito comes whining round my ears. I try to blow it away, but even that sounds loud in this reverential hush. The pain travels to my upper thighs, my left foot imitates my right foot and goes to sleep too. I swivel my wrist for a glance at my watch. Less than ten minutes have elapsed. I can't stand this. I know from Claudia what one has to do: simply let one's mind wander.

But how can I, if all I can think of are my various aches and pains? At best, the mosquito will distract me from my numb feet, the pain in my knees from the mosquito, and my numb feet from the pain in my knees.

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