“You have very independent energy,” Angeni said.
“I like to think so.”
Angeni smiled to herself. Sitka had yet to realize that the independence she prided herself on might be her greatest hindrance, holding her back from true connection. Hyperindependence was a trauma response, a reaction to having to be so self-sufficient at such a young age. Angeni understood because she’d been this way herself once. She’d healed. Sitka did not even know she needed healing.
“Do you crave connection, though?” Angeni asked.
Sitka shrugged. “I’m not longing for a boyfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“The label isn’t important. Anyway, I’m just curious. I’m sorry if these questions are intrusive.”
“It’s fine,” Sitka said. “I just don’t want to ever lose myself to a man.”
It was a surprise, this offering, an honest confession that Angeni didn’t expect.
“If you’ve been independent for so long, that’s an understandable concern. Erik is my first serious relationship, if you can believe it,” Angeni said, offering a confession of her own.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Before him, it was just casual sex with guys who were terrible for me.”
Sitka raised her eyebrows.
“Oh god, don’t tell my followers that.”
“I don’t think they’d believe me,” Sitka said with a laugh.
It felt good to connect with Sitka, to capture her attention and get her to laugh, but Angeni couldn’t deny the instant regret she felt about her disclosure. She had prioritized being liked by Sitka over protecting her inner life. It was juvenile; she wasn’t acting in accordance with her higher self.
“There are some things I don’t share,” Angeni said, formalizing her tone, straightening her spine. “Things that would divert attention from the things I do want to share.”
“I get that,” Sitka said. “But I do think that’s the danger of social media, right? It leaves out the whole picture.”
“I don’t think people truly want the whole picture.”
“I do,” Sitka said. “I like people keeping it real.”
“Do you think I don’t do that? Keep it real?”
Angeni felt her heart rate accelerate in anticipation of Sitka’s response. It was strange how much Sitka intimidated her.
“I don’t know,” Sitka said. “I’m only just getting to know what’s real for you.”
Like the casual sex with guys who were terrible for me,Angeni thought but didn’t say. She couldn’t believe she’d said it the first time.
Angeni turned her attention to Freya, a pleasant distraction from the far-flung places their conversation could go.
“Can I ask you something?” Angeni said. She didn’t wait for Sitka to respond, just went for it: “Do you think I’m a good mother?”
Sitka looked at her thoughtfully, mulling over the question for a length of time that made Angeni uncomfortable. Why didn’t she respond with an immediate “Yes”?
“Your love for your daughter is obvious,” Sitka said finally.
“But?”
“There’s no ‘but.’ I don’t really know what a ‘good mother’ is. That’s what I’m struggling with, that definition,” she said. “Like, how would you define it?”
Angeni hadn’t thought about that, specifically. She didn’t have a list of criteria in her mind for what made a good mother. It was instinctual.
