i.
Sometimes, Tahani Al-Jamil has a sense that something is missing. Okay, to be forthright, she usually feels that way. She has since childhood. But this began recently — a new, more acute awareness of lack. It's distinct from the nagging inadequacy that's plagued her all her life. It's as though she had something and lost it.
In fact, she can pinpoint the very instant the feeling began. One moment she was tugging at the ropes of Kamilah's statue, anger and emptiness lacing hot under her skin: that familiar panic that she would never be seen, never be cared about, never be enough.
And then, for the pearl-white flash of a millisecond, she was somewhere else.
It was as though she were plunged into another substance: raptured out of the room's stifled oxygen and into weightless silence, like swimming underwater through the slow mosaic of light filtering down from the surface. Except it was stranger than that. For one moment, she was somewhere outside of time, outside of her body, and all her mind was filled with… she isn't sure what to call it. The opposite of that usual sense of lack. Fullness, maybe. Or closeness. But closeness to what, or to whom?
For one moment, she didn't feel alone.
And then, as fast as the sensation began, it vanished. But the space where it had been remained, thrown open like a door. A room in her mind — in her soul, even — that she'd never known was inside her. A space in which something could exist.
And then someone was shoving her, the statue rushing down, the crowd in an uproar. She crashed to her knees back into the chaos.
As Kamila's fans erupted into cheers, Tahani was once engulfed in searing, silent frustration. Back to hollowness, back to falling short, back to being Kamilah's second-rate sister. Back to herself.
And yet. Something inside her was different than it had been a moment ago. That lack she always felt still remained, perhaps more achingly than ever. But now she knew there was something else, had experienced living proof that she could feel something different. Something more.
For the first time, this emptiness didn't feel like her own inadequacy — maybe there really was something missing from her life.
She went in search of it.
ii.
Tahani's great-grandfather had liked to quote an old poet friend of his, a certain Rainer Maria. A poet who wrote, You must change your life.
So she does. She gets into meditation. She's tried it before; a few years ago she'd taken classes from a friend of the family, a Tibetan Buddhist who was celebrating the 25th anniversary of his Nobel Peace Prize. But to be honest, at the time she had mostly been there to network (no offence to His Holiness, who had been an impeccably gracious host). This time, she pledges to dedicate her full efforts to meditation. In fact, she finds she has a gift for it.
Or at least, a gift for making people think she has a gift for it. Even as her eyes itch for movement and impatience shoots arrows up her spine, she's constantly aware of the other practitioners. Watching her. Judging her. In each interaction, she scans the faces of monks and nuns for the slightest hint of approval or criticism, allows it to dictate her mood for the rest of day: is she good enough? Is she at least getting closer to being good enough? She never forgets she is Tahani Al-Jamil, that she is in this world to prove herself. Even if she came to this island for the express purpose of forgetting that.
It's awfully hard to live in the moment when one can't stop checking to confirm everyone sees one living in the moment.
Exhaling slowly, she straightens her spine, presses her crossed legs hard against the floorboards. Keeping her face serene, she concentrates the entirety of her will towards appearing effortlessly comfortable. She holds the pose long after everyone else had ceased, as though she hasn't heard them rise to their feet and shuffle off, as though the floor doesn't hurt her knees. But of course she notices. Of course it hurts.
Star of the meditation students, she feels like a bigger failure than ever.
Sometimes, she hopes one of the monks will call her out. Reveal their transcendental wisdom and stare her down, whisper, "I see you. I know you're a fraud." And she will break down into elegant tears — no, real, messy tears — and beg on her knees to learn a truer way of being.
But no one ever says a word.
iii.
Why not science, then?
Religion's provided no remedy for this gnawing void. Isolation hasn't proved the path to inner peace, but nor has fame quelled her hunger for... whatever it is she's looking for.
So she'll turn to the academy. Neurology and ethics — an odd combination, to be sure, but something about it speaks to her. The promise of objectivity: that the material brain might allow one to grasp the ethereal mind. She certainly doesn't understand her own mind. And at this point, she's willing to try anything.
And then there's ethics. After a lifetime trying to be good enough, maybe the study of simply being good, fullstop, can shed some light on things.
And she'll meet others who have been through what she has.
A near-death experience.
It's not uncommon, from what she's read: face to face with extinction, a person is enveloped in light, in warmth, in serenity beyond the realm of anything they have previously thought possible. She feels silly bringing it up to anyone; it seems it would cheapen the experience to put it into words. But maybe, amongst others who have been through this, she will be able to speak of it. Maybe she will be able to understand.
Amusing how near-death was the most alive she's ever felt. Or maybe "amusing" isn't the right word.
The study participants are a curious bunch, vastly unlike the sophisticates and heirs who've populated her life 'til now. It's... pleasant, actually. They feel curiously familiar, though she can't for the life of her imagine why. As the month pass, she quickly begins to feel closer to the study participants than she does to her own family, or to those she called friends in what now feels like a previous life.
For all the close friends she namedrops, her old associates have begun to feel more like costars in the great song and dance she's made of her life, trying to be perfect! and stunning! and lovable! But with this new group, she doesn't always have to be... on. For once, it doesn't seem like she could be replaced by someone better, more successful, more popular, the moment they come along. The study participants actually seem to want to know her.
No one in the group is perfect, but they're perfectly themselves. For once, she feels like she has room to just be a person.
Chidi is an eccentric fellow, riddled with neuroses but kind and deeply intelligent. When Tahani's temper gets the better of her, groaning in frustration when Socrates can't be bothered to simply say what he means, Chidi takes the time to sit with her and guide her through the reading. He doesn't give her the silent treatment, or chastise her for overreacting, or gossip about her overreactions, the way her family or old friends would do. He listens to her. And, by the end of the conversation, she understands.
Jason is easy to speak to, gentle, nonjudgmental — perhaps because he doesn't grasp what she's talking about a significant portion of the time, but still, it's a welcome relief from her usual social circle. He might be utterly lacking in self-awareness, but he's a breath of fresh air compared to image-obsessed hierarchy-climbers. Herself included. Rather than constantly striving to impress others and ingratiate himself, Jason is able to just... be. It's a skill she profoundly envies. She seeks him out, tries to study how he does it.
(Besides, he is, objectively speaking, a very attractive man. Though she doesn't quite get what all the fuss is about dating — it feels like another performance, finding a suitable companion. As she sizes up his looks, it gives her the same sense of compulsive self-monitoring; like she's thinking more about the image they'll present together than about whether she, personally, finds him attractive.)
And then there's Eleanor. Eleanor is... well...
That's where Tahani becomes perplexed. The blonde doesn't fall into a "type": she's common and brash, but can also be warm and, when she cares about something, clever and hardworking. She's the one who makes Tahani laugh, the one she finds herself inexplicably drawn towards.
But Eleanor doesn't seem to feel the same. Tahani strives to impress her, drops references to her accomplishments and famous friends, but Eleanor barely reacts. "I'm not really a group activities person,"she says when Tahani invites her to the opera or the theater. And though Eleanor is friendly, sharing anecdotes about her old roommates' t-shirt business, there's something curiously emotionally detached in how she speaks about her life. Tahani can't figure her out.
She's fascinated by Eleanor. By how she doesn't care what anyone thinks of her. How she sneaks into faculty parties at the university, comes back with handfuls of shrimp that she eats while Chidi lectures about Aristotle (which she pronounces like Chipotle). How Eleanor is usually late to their meetings, bickers with Chidi about why they should listen to old Greek dudes ("Oh yeah, well if they were so smart, why did they all die?") and yet still does the readings. And how, despite her disdain for groups, she always comes to this one.
Eleanor's never unfriendly towards her. She high-fives Tahani when they figure out an ethics quandary, compares her to a "hot British giraffe" (and clarifies this is a compliment), cheers her on in pursuing Jason and then Larry (another objectively attractive man). But Tahani doesn't feel like she really knows her. At least, not the way she wants to.
When Eleanor punches a hole through her cake, it's a strange relief. She really does care.
iv.
Even the most well-versed in etiquette have no appropriate response for an ageless, interdimensional demon informing one they're going to hell.
So Tahani does what any intelligent, self-aware woman would do and spirals like mad.
They're doomed. What's the point of anything anymore? It's all been for naught, and now they must live out this cruel joke, all the while knowing what's coming. Congratulations, you know the inner workings of the universe! And you're all quite thoroughly fucked. (If there's one occasion that justifies ill-bred language, damn it, it's this one.)
But in all the chaos, Eleanor is surprisingly idealistic. For all Tahani's charity campaigning, Chidi's ethical rigour, and Jason's friendly demeanor, when it comes down to it, Eleanor is the one who wants to take action, to try to help people, even if it's fruitless.
Eleanor is the one who doesn't want to give up.
They sit around the table in Chidi's living room, trying to figure out their next step.
"Maybe we can't get out of this," says Eleanor, her voice surprisingly steady, "but we have to at least try to do something good, don't we? I mean, if there's one thing I've learned about ethics, it's that you don't get off that easy. Maybe we can't fix things, but we at least have to try."
"That's the Talmud," says Chidi, his hyperventilation slowing slightly. He adjusts his glasses, takes a deep breath and quotes in the measured tones of his lecture voice, "'Do not be daunted by the insurmountability of the world's grief. Do justly now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.'"
"Yeah, that, exactly." Eleanor smirks. "I referenced the Talmud. Ya girl's spiritual as hell."
The silence rests uncomfortably on the last word. Although the corner of Eleanor's mouth remains quirked in a half-smile, Tahani, sitting next to her, wonders whether anyone else can see the slight tremble to the blonde's lips.
"C'mon, guys," says Eleanor. "We've got to do this."
"Yes," says Tahani. She puts her hand atop Eleanor's, gives a supportive squeeze and nods at her. "Yes, let's."
As Chidi and Jason agree, the tremble in the corner of Eleanor's mouth relaxes. "Thank you," she mouths at Tahani.
v.
A conversation with her sister and Tahani manages to decimate only one table with an ax. In the history of their interactions, that's above average in terms of civility.
She's feeling good, though. Kamilah remains far from a warm person, but Tahani understands her a bit better now. Although her pride may inhibit her from admitting it, Kamiliah does care about her, and Tahani is surprised to realize how much she needed to know that.
And yes, Tahani loves her infuriating, obstinate, overachiever sister. She reminds her rather of herself — not that Tahani would ever tell her that. Or perhaps she should. The sisters' childhoods were defined by loneliness; maybe, in adulthood, they can find some solace in their shared experiences.
Maybe it's her imagination, but that persistent sense of emptiness seems to have quieted a bit. Tahani's life has never been so chaotic, and yet, she feels like she can handle it. Like she's finally engaging with the world, connecting to people, rather than simply trying to avoid embarrassing herself.
Parental mind games are, as Eleanor would put it, a trip and a half. But she doesn't have to go through it alone anymore.
She wonders how Eleanor is faring.
When Tahani goes to pick up Michael and Eleanor at the airport, something is off. Maybe it's the way the light of Eleanor's ocean-blue eyes wavers, or the slight tremble in the corner of her lips when she says, "It went great. She's doing really good."
"And you're... okay with that?" says Tahani,
"Yeah, I mean... she's my mom. I have to want the best for her."
As the three of them cross the parking lot to Tahani's rented Lexus (she's proud of herself for becoming less materialistic, renting rather than purchasing another one), Michael says, "So, where from here? I've been meaning to check out a Chili's." His tone chipper, Tahani wonders whether he doesn't notice Eleanor's exhaustion or is simply trying cheer her up.
"You know, I think I'm just gonna go back to the Heir B'n'B and pass out for the night," says Eleanor. They've been staying together at a place Tahani rented, a quaint little eight bedroom Victorian. "Also, I thought you didn't eat."
"Oh, I don't, but I'm fascinated by the floorplan. And I'm attempting to decipher the structural integrity of a quesadilla."
"Aren't we all," says Eleanor, giving him a pat on the shoulder. The primordial demon doesn't seem to mind the informality, giving a slight, somber nod in her direction. Something is definitely up.
"I think I'll turn in early, too," says Tahani. "It's been an eventful day."
vi.
Chidi and Jason agree to meet Michael at Chili's, so Tahani drops him off there. Chidi has spent the day pining over Simone, bouncing off ethical analyses of different ways he could have handled the situation, whether it would ever, possibly, be justified to try to contact her. Tahani knows this because her platonic husband had escaped for a moment to the bathroom to phone her about the situation.
"I thought I'd ask you," Jason had said, "because you're, like, a really smart and good person, and I know sometimes I don't know things, and I don't want to give him bad advice."
"What did you say?" asked Tahani over the car's intercom, on her way to pick up Michael and Eleanor.
"I said, if you love someone, you should tell them. Like how Chidi's my bro, and I love him. And how you're my b'pwiffle."
"I'm what?"
"My BPWFL. Best platonic wife for life. It means how you're my friend, and I love you."
"Oh," said Tahani, taken aback. But she smiled. "And I... love you too, my b'pah...hus... my dear friend Jason. And for the record, I think your advice was excellent. Now, there's some herbal tea in the cupboard above the refrigerator — I'd recommend the lavender, it helps Chidi come down when he's hyperventilating. Which I think I hear him doing in the background right now."
"Got it. Thanks b'pwiffle."
It will be good for Chidi to get out of the house. At this point, he'll probably be relieved to help Michael overthink the logistics of mass-produced Mexican-adjacent foodstuffs, particularly if it means avoiding his feelings. And Jason will just be grateful to have company and sliders ("They're like burgers, but you can eat twenty of them!" he had told her once. Staring at him, she'd said, "I don't think you're supposed to... Nevermind.").
They drop Michael off and Eleanor climbs into the passenger seat. Now just the two of them, Tahani says, "So. How are you really doing?"
Eleanor groans. "Is this interrogation time?"
"Not at all," says Tahani, beginning to drive. "But lord knows I need a chance to rant after seeing family."
Eleanor chuckles. "Kamilah's up to her usual tricks?"
Tahani laughs. "One could gag on the pomposity in the air."
"Yeah, I always found her stuff kind of pretentions."
"Yes, finally someone sees it!" After a pause, Tahani says more softly, "I think I understand her better now, though. We were both just trying to make a place for ourselves in a profoundly toxic environment. I don't fault her for trying to survive."
"Nah, but you can fault her for bugging you. That's what family does."
Tahani smiles. "Indeed. I never thought I'd look forward to bickering with my sister, but we've made plans to spend the holidays together, and... I think it will be good to see her. In small doses."
"Proper family serving size."
"Speaking of which, how was your mother?"
"Oh, she was... I don't know." Eleanor sighs. "She was good! She was really good. She's happy." After a long pause, Eleanor adds, "She has a kid. A stepdaughter."
"Ooh." Tahani winces.
"She's a sweet kid. I mean, I'm glad they're happy."
"Yes, but..." As they stop at a light, Tahani taps her finger on the wheel, looking for the words. "She was supposed to care for you, too. I know our backgrounds are very different, but.. I know what it's like to be overlooked by the people who are supposed to look after you. I know how it hurts." She gives the blonde a long look. "No one would blame you for feeling hurt, Eleanor."
The light in Eleanor's eyes wavers again. "Thanks," she says slowly. "No one's ever said that to me before. It's always some crap about forgiveness."
"Tell me about it," says Tahani with a bitter laugh as she begins to drive again. "I mean, obviously I don't think there's anything wrong with forgiveness. But I found that constantly forgiving people for tossing me aside meant I ended up blaming myself instead. I couldn't forgive myself for not being good enough to earn their love."
"Yeah," says Eleanor quietly. "I feel you." But after a pause, she adds, "Well, for what it's worth, it's their loss. You're more than good enough. You're incredible."
"You're an extraordinary woman, Eleanor. Really — you're a genuinely good person, and any point system that can't see that is profoundly lacking. As is any person."
Eleanor smiles. "Thanks. Right back atcha."
As they turn onto the street of the mansion, Tahani says, "Would you like to come up to the kitchen for some shrimp? I ordered a shrimp dispenser machine — well, truth be told, Janet helped me find it. Actually, I think she might have built it. I figured the visit might be difficult, and wanted there to be at least one good part of your day."
"That's... really sweet. You know, when I first met you, I didn't think you were the type to do things for others —"
"Excuse me, I've served on dozens of charity boards —"
"No, I mean, I was wrong. You are a really caring person. I'm just... not used to it, I guess. Being part of a group where people care about each other."
"This is all new to me, too," says Tahani as they pull into the driveway. In the setting sun, the last light dances gold through the leaves, the dappled glow swaying over their faces as Tahani gives her a long look. "But someone recently told me that when you care about someone, you should let them know. And you are worth caring about, Eleanor."
As they step out of the car, Eleanor slips her hand into Tahani's, "You're worth caring about, too. I know sometimes it's hard for me to, like, express that — I guess I get scared that if I show I care about someone, I'll scare them away. But I'd regret not letting you know. Even in this whole crazy mess, I'm glad I met you."
Tahani entwines their fingers, her heart speeding up. Eleanor's eyes shine as though lit from within, and then she's closing them, and Tahani is leaning in, warmth spreading through her face and she kisses Eleanor. And for once she's not worried about who might be watching, be judging, be evaluating. She's just here, kissing someone she deeply cares about. She's just happy.
When they separate, Eleanor smiles, and her eyes are smiling too.
Tahani laughs.
"What?" says Eleanor, grinning confusedly.
"Nothing. I'm just happy."
Eleanor takes her hand again as they walk up to the house. "Yeah," she says. "Me too."
Feeling a bit giddy, Tahani says, "Some of Janet's shrimp concoctions are truly baffling. There's even a margarita mix flavour."
"Well that I've gotta try."
"You're not bothered by the near-death associations?"
"Nah, the undertones of danger add a sense of zest."
Tahani chuckles, and in the doorway, she leans in and kisses Eleanor again, more deeply this time, running her fingers through Eleanor's hair while Eleanor pulls her closer, the heat of her breathing alive, alive, alive. Tahani's heart thumps in her chest, nervous and soaring.
"I hope that wasn't out of line," says Tahani when they catch their breath.
"Are you kidding? I don't want to be in any line where we can't do that."
Tahani chuckles. "I figured this was a better time than after you tried the white chocolate shrimp."
"White choc… Why would anyone think that was a good flavour combo?"
"You mean you're not going to try it?'"
"Oh, I'm totally going to try it."
"You, Eleanor Shellstrop, are the strangest woman I've ever met." Turning the key in the doorway, Tahani continues, "Would you like to be my girlfriend?"
"I thought you'd never ask. And hells yeah."
As they walk into the house, Tahani and Eleanor — her girlfriend! — can't stop smiling. Tahani is nervous, unprepared, out of her depth — and truly, utterly happy.
Laughing with Eleanor as they fiddle with the lever's on Janet's baffling shrimp machine, Tahani's okay with the absurdity of existence. Doomed as they may be, for the time being, they're alive.
She marvels at her luck.