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 wasovercome 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.”
