Page 120 of Midnight Enemy

I cry for a while, feeling lonely and full of self-pity. Then, as I lie there and let my tears dry on my cheeks, I remember the phone Orson gave me. It’s on my bedside table, and I pick it up and touch the screen. Sure enough, he texted me, over an hour ago, so he’s probably gone tobed now. It’s just a short message, but it touches me to think he was thoughtful enough to send it.

Thinking of you. You were right to take the red pill. Be like Neo, and embrace the truth and use it to shape your own destiny. I love you. O x

I put the phone back on the bedside table, then pick up Mr. Bearcub and bring him under the covers. I haven’t hugged a teddy bear since I was a kid, but I wrap my arms around the soft toy, enjoying the comfort he brings.

Orson is right. Regardless of how painful and uncomfortable it is, it’s still better that I know the truth.

All children are innocent, but they all lose that purity at some point. Everyone has to take that step into adulthood. I thought I’d grown up, but I realize now that although I’d passed through puberty, I hadn’t matured. Being brought up in the commune was always going to affect my ideologies and views. Orson said I was wearing rose-tinted glasses, and he was right. I’ve been naive and idealistic, and I haven’t seen the world the way it really is.

It’s hard not to feel foolish. But I feel as if I have two choices. I can let the truth eat away at me like acid, become cynical, decide that everything I’ve learned and the person I’ve been up to this point has all been a sham, and turn my back on my beliefs and my way of life.

Or, in Orson’s words, I can embrace the truth and use it to shape my own destiny.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I mustn’t wallow in self-pity. The fact that Dad stole money doesn’t mean the work he did at Kahukura was pointless, or that our way of life here isn’t commendable and worth pursuing. We help a lot of women at the retreat, and I don’t believe my healing program is worthless.

My father has fallen off his pedestal, and as he’s crashed to the ground, he’s brought my life down in the process. But the world isn’t really falling apart. Like a pile of children’s bricks, it was never built on a solid foundation.Iput him on the pedestal. And even though he has to take some of the blame for forming my ideologies, it’s been my choice to stay at the commune and isolate myself from the world. Ana is less idealistic and naive than I am because she travels to the city frequently and has a phone and is on social media. I’m the only one I can blame for my innocence.

I think of the things I’ve said to Orson and wince. No wonder he’s mocked me from time to time, saying things likeI don’t want my chakraslocated, andI don’t need to know if the moon’s in Uranus. That was at the beginning though, before we got to know one another.

He got angry with George because he thought he insulted me. He wanted me to meet his friends and family. He defended me in front of his father. And he saidI love you. Yes, he’s an elitist capitalist who believes some people are superior to others. Yes, he thinks everything and everyone has a price, and that money can buy anything. But he and his father give so much to charity. I feel in my heart that he’s a good man. Or am I being naive again?

I’m frightened of trusting my gut, because it’s led me astray so wildly. And I feel panicky at the thought of dating Orson, because how will I ever be able to convince him, his father, or myself that it has nothing to do with his money? I’ve glimpsed into his world and seen what money can buy—safety, security, and comfort. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find that attractive.

And yet… that’s not why I want to be with him. I’m shallow enough to be drawn to his biceps and his gorgeous hair, but that’s not the only reason I like him—I find his confidence attractive, even though it borders on arrogance, and I adore his hard-working attitude, his philanthropic heart, and his deep-rooted desire for justice and fairness, which was evident in the way he defended me.

Am I going to let what’s happened spoil something that could be real and beautiful?

My eyelids are drooping. It’s very late, probably near to two a.m. Mr. Bearcub is soft in my arms, and I bury my nose in his fur, remembering how wonderful it felt to cuddle up to his namesake in bed. I miss Orson so much. I wish he’d stayed. But I know he was right. I need to talk to Ana, and we have to decide what we’re going to do about the funds that Dad stole. We need to talk to George, and the Elders too, probably, because I can’t imagine keeping it from them. Only when I’ve sorted out that part of my life will I be able to think about my love life, and where I go from here.

I don’t know what the future holds. I can’t picture it. I’m in love with Orson, I think. I miss him. I want to be with him. But I can’t envisage how it would work. Despite what’s happened, I don’t know that I can transfer myself to his world, and he certainly wouldn’t want to live in mine.

I fall asleep, and I dream of flying, of escaping into the bright blue sky, and leaving all my fears and worries behind me. And then I spendthe rest of the dream searching for a bearcub in the forest, sad because I’m unable to track him down.

*

The next day, I rise when my alarm goes off at seven, even though I’ve only had five hours’ sleep, make Ana and me some coffee, and sit with her and go through everything. She’s shocked and upset, but probably less than me, which just reinforces to me how innocent I’ve been.

We talk for a long time about what we’re going to do, and eventually decide the best thing is to talk to George and Kingi, get them to prepare a brief report on their findings, and then take it to the Elders at their meeting this evening.

I have yoga and Jiu Jitsu classes today, and I’m taking several groups to the Waiora, but after I shower and dress, I make time first to deliver the message to George and Kingi where they’re working in the main office, despite it being Saturday. They both promise they’ll have the report ready by six p.m., which is when the Elders are meeting. After that, I head off to the retreat for my first class.

Orson texted me this morning asking if I managed to get any sleep. We exchanged a few messages, and then he said he had to go to a meeting, and I haven’t heard from him since.

I’m therefore surprised when I come out of my class and see his Aston Martin parked out the front of the office. I go in and look down the corridor to see that the door to the finance office is closed.

“Is Orson here?” I ask the woman on reception.

She nods. “They’ve asked not to be disturbed.”

Maybe Kingi needed some help with the figures. I hesitate, wondering whether to knock on the door or text him and let him know I’m out here, but I figure that he’ll come and get me if he needs me. So I leave them to it and return to the retreat, collect my first healing group, and take them to the Waiora.

It’s a blustery day, the wind whipping the clouds across the sky, but it’s still warm. I feel the need for healing as much as the women I’m with, and so I spend a long time at the pool, leading them through a guided meditation, and hoping that the spirit of the rainbow falls will help me heal and guide me forward.

When we return, Orson’s car has gone. I text him, but although he replies, it’s only to say that he’s in a meeting and he’ll catch up with me later.

I don’t hear from him for the rest of the day, but I keep myself busy with classes, with helping at lunch, and with trips to the Waiora.

At 5:45 p.m., Ana wishes me luck, then heads off to the refectory to help with the evening meal. I still haven’t heard from Orson, and I feel oddly unsettled because of it.

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