tall, dark, and handsome man seated on the opposite side of the circle. He sat straight-backed and solemn, yet somehow in a manner that conveyed he wasn’t taking any of this too seriously. She automatically went to look away but he held her gaze and winked. Frances winked back and he looked startled. She was a terrible winker; she found it hard to close only one eye and had been told that her attempt looked like an extraordinary facial spasm.
“And so we come to the end of our noble silence,” said Masha. She grinned and punched the air. “We did it!”
Nobody said a word, but there was a gentle murmur of sound: exhalations, the shifting of bodies, and half chuckles of acknowledgment.
“I’d like us to now slowly reintroduce conversation and eye contact,” said Masha. “We shall each take a turn to introduce ourselves and speak for just a few moments about whatever comes to mind: perhaps why you chose to come to Tranquillum House, what you’re enjoying most about your experience so far, and what you’ve found most challenging. Are you dying for a cappuccino or glass of sauvignon blanc? I get it! Share your pain with the group! Are you missing a loved one? Tell us about that! Or maybe you’d just prefer to deliver straight-up facts: your age, your occupation, your hobbies, your star sign.”
Masha smiled her extraordinary smile and everyone smiled back.
“Or recite a line of poetry, if you like,” she continued. “It doesn’t matter what you say. Simply enjoy the experience of speaking, connecting, and making eye contact with your fellow guests.”
People cleared their throats, adjusted their posture, and stroked their hair in preparation for public speaking.
“While we get to know each other, Yao and Delilah will distribute your afternoon smoothies,” said Masha.
Such was Masha’s charismatic charm that Frances hadn’t even noticed Yao and Delilah stand up. Now they began to glide about the room distributing tall glasses. This afternoon’s smoothies were all the same emerald-green color. Spinach? thought Frances with alarm, but when she took hers and had a sip she tasted apple, honeydew melon, and pear, with undertones of moss and bark. It brought to mind a walk by a babbling brook in a dappled green forest. She tossed it back like tequila.
“Why don’t you go first, Frances?” said Masha.
“Oh. Okay. Well, I’m Frances. Hi.” She put down her empty glass, dipped her head, and licked her teeth for lipstick. She realized she was automatically adopting her professional public-speaking persona: warm, humble, gracious, but a little standoffish in order to repel any huggers in the signing line.
“I came to Tranquillum House because I was kind of in a bad way: my health, my personal life, my career.” She allowed her gaze to travel the circle. It felt strangely intimate, looking everyone in the eye again. “I write romance books for a living and my last one got rejected. I also got badly burned in a romance scam. So.”
Why was she telling them all about the scam? Blab, blab, blab.
Tony looked steadily back at her. He had more stubble than before, and his face seemed more defined. Men always lost weight so easily, the fuckers. She faltered a little. Was he sneering again? Or was he just … looking at her?
“So the first five days have been good!” All at once she was desperate to talk. She didn’t care if she gave them “too much information.” The words spilled from her mouth. It was like that greedy feeling of sitting down to an excellent meal when you were very hungry and after the first mouthful you were suddenly shoveling food into your mouth like a machine.
“I enjoyed the silence more than I thought I would, it did seem to calm my thoughts. In addition to being rejected I was very upset about this really very nasty review, I was thinking about it obsessively in the beginning, but I’m not even thinking about it at all now, so that’s good, and, well, I miss coffee and champagne and the internet and …” Shut up, Frances. “And, you know, all the normal luxuries of normal life.”
She sat back, her face warm.
“I’ll go next,” said the tall, dark, and handsome man. “I’m Lars. I’m a health-retreat junkie. I indulge and atone, indulge and atone. It works for me.”
Frances looked at his chiseled cheekbones and golden-toned skin. It certainly does work for you, lovely Lars.
“I’m a family lawyer, so I need to drink a lot of wine after work.”