Chapter 24 Britt #2
Painting brought Aurora out of her depressive state.
It gave her a reason to get out of bed, and getting out of bed gave her a reason to change her clothes and eat a meal.
When there was a job opening at the natural foods store, Angeni convinced Ted to hire Aurora.
She wasn’t sure Aurora would be a great employee, but figured she could cover for her when she had bad days.
Aurora was grateful for the job, comforted by the fact that Angeni would work alongside her.
The world felt terrifying without her friend there.
Angeni discovered she was pregnant shortly after Aurora started working at the store.
Angeni wasn’t the type to pay any real attention to her menstrual cycle.
She hadn’t realized she was late. She discovered she was pregnant in very cinematic fashion—after feeling slightly squeamish all day, she became overcome with nausea while on a shift and had to run to the employee bathroom to vomit.
She knew then, but bought a pregnancy test at the drugstore across the street on her lunch break to confirm.
She didn’t want to keep the baby. At this point in her life, she hadn’t even considered the idea of becoming a mother.
It seemed like something far off, if it was going to happen at all.
She knew she would never want to be the type of mother her own mother was, and if she had a baby at twenty, that was exactly what she would be.
She told Ted the baby was his, though she had no way of knowing for sure.
There had been so many guys—guys she met at the store, guys who came to the store to meet her because they’d heard about her.
Ted didn’t seem upset or excited. He took the news as if she’d just told him that she’d rearranged the grains aisle—mild surprise, a tinge of interest. He knew she slept around, but he didn’t bring up the other possible fathers. He wasn’t stupid, just simple.
He asked her if she wanted to keep the baby, and she was shocked by the question. “I’ll support you either way,” he said. The sentiment was sweet, but Angeni’s thoughts weren’t muddled by love for him. She could see that he would never be able to support her.
“I can’t be a mother,” she told him.
“Okay,” he said calmly. If he was relieved, as she expected him to be, he didn’t show it. It truly seemed like he would have accepted whatever fate she’d dealt him.
“I guess we need to find somewhere to, like, take care of it,” she said.
“I know someone who can help.”
The someone was Cheyenne, the woman who had approached Angeni and Aurora at Rainbow’s memorial service. Ted said he’d heard she helped women with “this type of thing,” and Angeni had to assume a previous girlfriend of his had needed the same service.
Cheyenne lived in a tiny Craftsman-style house just a few blocks from Angeni and Aurora.
The inside was dimly lit and sparsely furnished.
Cheyenne led Angeni through the front entryway to the living room, which had just a couch, end table, and lamp, then on to the kitchen, every inch of which was cluttered with various labeled glass bottles and jars.
“Sit, dear,” Cheyenne said, motioning to one of the four chairs at the round table, on top of which were stacks of books.
“Thank you, again, for helping me,” Angeni said.
“It is a gift I can offer women who need it,” Cheyenne said. “I helped Rainbow with this same predicament once.”
“Really?” This surprised Angeni. She’d had no idea. Rainbow had never let on.
“Yes, a few years ago. She wouldn’t have judged you. I can assure you of that.”
Angeni appreciated the assurance, but she didn’t need it. She knew Rainbow wouldn’t have judged her. Rainbow had always talked to Angeni and Aurora about taking ownership of their bodies, never letting anyone talk them out of their intuition.
“Native American women have been controlling their fertility for centuries,” Cheyenne said.
“Really?” Angeni said. “Just with herbs?”
Cheyenne nodded as she moved about her kitchen, opening cabinets, pulling out glass jars as she saw fit.
“Peacock flower, that was a popular one. I like pennyroyal and mugwort,” she said.
Angeni watched as she spooned out the herbs and explained what they were. The pennyroyal looked like dried sod with tiny flecks of purple from what were once bright-lavender flowers. The mugwort was clumpy and thick, like couch stuffing or wall insulation. It smelled like dried grass.
“You’ll make a tea with these,” she said, and proceeded to demonstrate how much to put in a mug before pouring in the hot water.
“It needs to steep a good long while. Twenty minutes or so,” she said, glancing at the clock on her wall.
“And that’s it? That’s all?” Angeni asked, disbelieving.
Cheyenne smiled. “You will need to drink it over the next several days. That’s all.”
“What do I owe you for this?” Angeni asked. She had brought a hundred dollars with her, money Ted had given her. She hoped that was enough.
When she started fishing in her purse for her wallet, Cheyenne made a tsking sound.
“That’s not what I want from you,” she said.
Angeni stopped rooting around in her purse and waited for more.
“What I want, after you heal from your current situation, is for you to resume the congregation meetings,” Cheyenne said.
It took a moment for Angeni to understand.
“Rainbow’s congregation meetings?”
Cheyenne nodded. “Rainbow told me you have the gift.”
“The gift? The gift of what?”
“Captivating a community.”
Angeni was flattered that Rainbow had thought she possessed any kind of gift, let alone this one. Apparently, she’d even felt compelled to tell Cheyenne about it.
“Oh, well, I don’t know about that. But I can try,” Angeni said. “Aurora can help me.”
Cheyenne nodded. “She can help, yes. But you are the one with the gift.”
For the next two weeks, Angeni drank the tea daily.
It tasted minty and medicinal. On the first day of the third week, her stomach began to cramp.
She stayed home from work, told Aurora to take her shift.
She sat on the toilet and waited, thinking that losing a pregnancy was nothing more than a heavy period, something that would pass quickly. That was not what it was like, though.
She labored—there was no other way to describe it—for three hours, her body covered in sweat. It was only during this pain that she considered that this would-be baby would not just dissolve within her; this would-be baby would come out. She was giving birth to death.
She felt the baby pass, stared at the huge glob of slimy red on the toilet paper.
There were two dark dots—were they eyes?
She was overcome with a crushing grief and fell to the bathroom floor, crying harder than she had when her mother died, when Rainbow died.
She hadn’t wanted the baby—she kept reminding herself of this.
But her body didn’t know that. Her body only knew that it had lost something it was designed to keep.
She made a silent promise to herself that if she did ever become pregnant again, she would be a better person, a person capable of mothering. She would never again be this person, abandoning her child in a toilet.
Angeni’s grief over the baby compounded the grief she felt over Rainbow. She took Cheyenne’s words to heart. She clung to the idea of having a gift, convinced that gift could also be her salvation.
Aurora loved the idea of resuming the congregation meetings. It was a way to remember her mother, to honor her legacy. Angeni was uncomfortable, suggesting that she be the one to take Rainbow’s role, to create and lead the sermons, but Aurora was nothing but supportive.
“I’m too shy. You are made for this. My mom knew it,” Aurora said.
So it was decided.
They had their first meeting back at the park three weeks after Angeni gave birth to her not-yet baby.
Angeni was doubtful that many people would show up.
They had spread the word as best as possible, but Angeni couldn’t believe anyone would be interested in someone besides Rainbow giving sermons.
Much to her surprise, the park was packed with people when Angeni and Aurora pulled up in their car.
It was as packed as the day of Rainbow’s memorial service.
“I knew it,” Aurora said.
Before her death, Rainbow had talked about wanting to do more relationship counseling within the congregation.
She’d wanted to teach people how to grow and evolve within their partnerships.
“Relationships reveal our greatest triggers, and our triggers are our greatest teachers,” Rainbow had said.
Angeni made this the topic of her first sermon.
She spoke of fostering conscious connection, of being awake and attuned to the full humanity of the people we love.
She had been nervous at the start of her talk, but by the end, she had tentatively accepted Rainbow’s assessment as true—she had a gift.
Within just a few months, congregants were asking Angeni if she would do more intimate relationship counseling sessions for them. Angeni looked to Cheyenne for guidance.
“I think you need to solidify the relationship within yourself before you begin counseling others on theirs,” Cheyenne said.
Angeni didn’t have to ask what she meant. She knew. She was continuing to fool around with Ted and other random guys. She wasn’t smoking much weed or taking any pills, but she still had her ways of escaping.
Cheyenne invited Angeni to attend an ayahuasca journey with other members of the Indigenous healing community.
Angeni had never done psychedelics, and this journey proved to be something truly transcendental.
She saw herself as a small child. She saw her mother, she forgave her.
She saw the faces of all the men she had let into her body.
She saw the baby she had lost. After the ceremony, she committed to a year of celibacy.
Shortly after Angeni made that commitment, Cheyenne told her about a retreat on Orcas Island.
“I think it would be good for you. I know the leader. He was familiar with Rainbow’s work, and he knows of you. He said he would love to have you as his guest, no cost.”
“Wow, that’s so kind,” Angeni said. “And it would be a good way to meet more people in the healing community.”
Cheyenne made her tsk sound.
“I don’t want you meeting anyone. I want you to meet yourself. I want you to take this time to be in silent observation of you.”
The only person who knew the truth of the chemistry between Erik and Angeni on that retreat was Aurora. Angeni had to gush to someone, had to tell someone that she had met the love of her life, The One.
She told Aurora as they sat at the dinner table in their apartment, the same dinner table they used to sit at with Rainbow, eating her homemade macaroni and cheese. It still ached to be in that apartment, to watch the pothos grow and live after Rainbow had died.
“I’m happy for you,” Aurora said, though Angeni could tell that was a lie. Their relationship had never before been significantly challenged by a third party. Any men in their lives had been ancillary, and here Angeni was, telling Aurora that she had met someone poised to be her soulmate.
“Oh, Ror. You are forever my soul sister, you know that, right?” Angeni said.
Aurora smiled, but it was a weak smile. “I knew this would happen one day,” she said.
“What do you think is happening, exactly?”
“You’re going to make a life with him. And you should. I get it. That’s what people do. I will have to find my own way.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that. Since when have I been so unoriginal?”
That made Aurora laugh.
“Maybe we could all live together, the three of us,” Angeni said. “I’ve already talked to Erik about it. We can find a place in Seattle that has room for all of us.”
Aurora’s face brightened. “Really? I don’t want to get in the way.”
“You will never be getting in the way, okay?”
Aurora nodded.
“And when you meet your soulmate, the four of us can live together,” Angeni said, nudging Aurora in the side.
Aurora rolled her eyes. After a string of disappointing short-term boyfriends, she had sworn off dating for the foreseeable future.
“You’re sure Erik is okay with this?” Aurora asked.
“If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t be with him,” Angeni said.
Aurora exhaled a big breath of relief.
“Seattle, though?” Aurora said.
That was where Erik lived and worked. He had a steady gig with a construction company, and all the jobsites were in the Seattle area.
“It’ll be exciting, a new beginning,” Angeni said.
“What about the congregation?” Aurora asked.
Seattle was a two-and-a-half-hour drive from where they were in Chelan County. It wouldn’t be feasible to continue the weekly park gatherings.
“Erik had an idea. We can create a website, social media . . . build an online community. That way we can stay connected with the current congregation and grow beyond that too.”
“That’s actually smart,” Aurora said. “Though I’ll miss it here.”
“We won’t leave anytime soon. I can’t tell Cheyenne about Erik yet. I promised her I would take this year of celibacy. Erik and I will keep things quiet until the timing is right. We have time to think it all through, to manifest a life for ourselves.”
“Manifest,” Aurora said. “I like that.”
It was a word Erik had used on the retreat, a word he said he was applying to his own life. “I think I manifested you,” he’d told Angeni after they first had sex.
“I think this is what I’m meant for, Ror,” Angeni said.
Aurora looked less skeptical, more excited. She reached across the table and took both of Angeni’s hands into her own. She squeezed them.
“I always knew you were meant for something.”