by Ronica Black
“I hope he has some chili beer,” Johnnie said, craving the beer with green chilies in the bottle.
“He knows you’re coming,” Jolene said.
As if he’d heard them, Henry came around the side of the house with a smile. He gave the hood of the truck a firm pat and then embraced Jolene as she climbed from the vehicle. They mumbled greetings and affections as they always did, and then Henry came to Johnnie. “White girl is skin and bones,” he said, grabbing her shoulders. Johnnie rolled her eyes.
“Good thing I can cook.”
“She needs medicine,” Jolene said. “For her head and heart.”
Johnnie gave her a look, but Jolene was already heading inside. Henry and Johnnie carried in their things.
“Is she right?” he asked, carrying Jolene’s bag. She never packed much. Once you were homeless, you learned real quick what was vital and what could be left behind.
Johnnie slung her bag over her shoulder and carried a few art supplies. She loved to paint the rocks against the sky. And if a storm rolled in, she was in artistic heaven.
“Aren’t you supposed to be able to tell?” she asked, grinning.
He laughed. “I’m a medicine man, not a mind reader.”
Johnnie sighed as they stood at the door. “I guess she’s right.”
He nodded with thought. Then he touched her shoulder. “We’ll get you straightened out.”
They walked inside and Johnnie inhaled something that smelled delicious. She noted the Native American art, rugs, and paintings decorating the house. Henry had done well for himself and he knew many other Native American artists, so his home was vastly adorned with expensive art and handmade goods. Johnnie was always amazed and moved by it all.
“I do love your place,” Johnnie said, relaxing.
She and Henry made their way down the hallway to the room she and Jolene would share. She dropped her bag on the far twin bed as Henry did the same with Jolene’s things. Then they crossed back down the hall to the living room where Jolene sat, stroking Sugar, Henry’s longhaired white cat.
Johnnie sat next to her, and Henry took up in his chair across from them. He didn’t have a television or a cell phone. Instead he had shelves full of books and a room and a workshop in his backyard for his art. He reached down to a coffee table and grabbed his decorated bandana. He tied it on.
“Are we starting now?” Johnnie was a little surprised. She looked to Jolene and then realized she’d already told Henry what he needed to know well before their arrival.
“I figured you would want to sweat before dinner,” he said.
Johnnie sat for a moment and then nodded. The sun was soon to set. She stood.
“Fine.”
Henry stood as well, followed by Jolene. They went through the back door and into the vast Sedona landscape. Henry’s workshop was off to the left, and unfinished pieces marked the property with promise of amazing things to come. Henry led the way quickly, not really giving Johnnie a chance to take in some of his new work. He crossed to the end of his property where large boulders and a dirt hill sat. Johnnie knew the hill was really a hut. A small sweathouse. Smoke was already sneaking out the hanging flap of the entrance.
Johnnie knew what was expected so she began to undress. Henry entered the hut and created more steam by pouring water on the hot rocks. When he emerged, his face was glistening with sweat. He paid no mind to Johnnie’s nude form. They were more like brother and sister and had seen one another nude on occasion when he went in as well. Today, though, he held her shoulders and looked her in the eye.
“You ready?”
She closed her eyes and cleared her mind as best she could. She nodded.
Jolene lifted the flap, and Johnnie knelt and crawled inside. Immediately, she felt the weight of the steam and the close quarters. But she forced it from her mind and sat, legs crossed, hands in her lap. She stared at the slats of sunlight coming through and then closed her eyes. Her thoughts went to the winter when she’d sat alone in there, sweated a good long sweat, and then emerged and rolled in the snow and dirt, cleaning herself with large handfuls of both. That had been a good day, a good sweat. She’d worked out quite a bit and then she’d gone back in with Henry and he’d sand painted and given her instruction.
Would he do it today?
She doubted it. Today it was about love. Henry claimed he didn’t have much to offer yet on love. Especially love between two women. He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t judge her on it either. Neither did Jolene. That was what she loved most about them. Their strong quiet ways, letting her be her. They gave advice when she opened up to it; otherwise, they were just there for her. Always.
Chapter Forty-nine
The steam seeped into Johnnie’s skin and she breathed it deep into her lungs. Sweat began to trickle down her back and ribs. She wiped her brow, wishing she’d asked for a bandana. She shifted, growing uncomfortable. But that was part of the process. You had to accept it and push through it. Her mind began to jump, first with the sweat and the steam, then to Elaine, then to Gail, a brief guilt laden flash of Monica, and then to her own image.
She jerked. She wasn’t expecting that. The women in her life, yes. But facing herself, no. She didn’t want to. She didn’t know what to do.
She wiped sweat from her eyes, ignoring the sting of it. She looked to the exit, to the flap of hide gently swaying in the desert breeze. She could crawl out and take deep gulps of fresh air. But nothing would be solved. The negativity would still be deep inside her. Not yet having come up to her skin to be sweated out or wiped away.
“I don’t like this,” she called out.
There was silence for a moment and then Jolene poked her head in. “Too bad.”
Johnnie panicked. “I’m seeing myself, Jolene. I don’t know what to do with that.”
“Ask it,” she said.
“Ask it?”
Jolene disappeared.
Johnnie held her head in her hands, then placed her hands in the red orange dirt. She pulled them back and then studied her handprints. Henry needed to paint for her. That was it. That was what was needed. He needed to come in and let the colorful sand pour delicately from his hand, making images. Giving her medicine. Helping her know what to do.
“I need Henry to paint,” she said, calling out to Jolene.
Henry poked his head in. “I can’t,” he said. “Only you can face yourself.”
“But, Henry, I don’t know how to do this.”
“You must figure it out. No one knows you better than you.”
“I want out,” she said.
“No, you don’t. You will only be mad at yourself if you come out now.”
She stilled. “Goddamn it, Henry.”
He disappeared and she heard him say, “Talk to yourself.”
She closed her eyes and balled her fists. She sat very still and eventually felt her body relax and turn to hot lead. She was pliable now; she could be moved and bent and curled. Henry could create a masterpiece with her if he so chose. But Henry wasn’t with her.
She saw Elaine again. Elaine touched her, felt her strength and examined her. Then she lightly stroked her, which aroused her. Johnnie’s knees went weak. Elaine could read her mind. She knew Johnnie would do anything for her. But Elaine stepped back. It wasn’t what she wanted. She reached out and raised Johnnie’s chin with her fingers. She wanted Johnnie’s best. Her strongest self. Her happiest self. She took another step back. Johnnie reached for her, but she spoke with her mind and said, “Not yet.” She turned and vanished into the steam.
Johnnie clutched the darkness and pulled back a handful of steam. Sweat coated her body, but she had moved past the uncomfortableness.
“Elaine,” she said. “Come back.”
“I’m here for you, baby.”
Johnnie sat back. Gail’s voice tickled her ear. “You don’t need anyone but me.”
Johnnie felt gooseflesh erupt along her skin. Gail could always turn her on, calm her down.
“Remember, I’m the only one who can love you. No one else can accept you and your past and your issues. Only I can. And let’s face it, baby, there’s no one like me.”
Johnnie fell to her side as she felt Gail stroke her face, arm, and back. “I know,” she said in return. “I’m too far gone. Too fucked up.”
“I love you just right don’t I?” Gail was sitting next to her, stroking her hair.
Johnnie closed her eyes. More images came. Images of her pacing when Gail disappeared without calling. Images of her alone at restaurants when Gail stood her up. Images of Gail turning on the charm only when they were around other lesbians. Only to have them become infatuated with her, leaving Johnnie to be the bad guy to tell them to get lost.
“No.” Johnnie sat up and felt the dirt clinging to her wet body, but she didn’t care. “You don’t love me just right.”
“Come on, love. I do. I’m just absent-minded. I just forget sometimes, that’s all. And you know I’m busy.”
Johnnie shoved her away. “I don’t believe you anymore.”
Gail reached for her, but Johnnie shoved her away again, and she vanished in the mist.
“I’m sick of you,” Johnnie said, hugging her knees and rocking. “Sick of your shit. Stay away from me,” she shouted.
“Good for you,” Monica said, appearing across the rocks. “’Bout time.”
Johnnie shook her head. “I have nothing to offer you, Monica,” Johnnie said, blinking against the sting in her eyes.
“I only want a date.”
“I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t.”
“I mean I don’t want to.”
Monica let down her long brown mane. “Ouch. I’m offended. You’ll date Gail but not me?”
“It wouldn’t be fair to you. I want someone else.”
“Who?”
Johnnie rocked again. “Someone I can’t have.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I just can’t. Leave it at that.”
“What about that day at your studio?”
Johnnie clutched dirt, growing agitated. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry.”
“Kiss me again and we’ll see.”
Johnnie watched as she unbuttoned her blouse. “I’ll love you, Johnnie. Protect you, treat you right.”
“I can’t,” Johnnie shouted, throwing dirt across the stones.
Monica disappeared.
Johnnie pounded the earth. Why wouldn’t people listen to her?
“Because you don’t mean what you say.”
Johnnie looked up. Her own image sat across from her with dirt smeared along the side of her face and right side of her body.
Johnnie scrambled backward. “Go away.”
“Why? If you can’t handle seeing me, how do you expect anyone else to?”
Johnnie had never liked her reflection. Not even as a child. Her mother had always told her she looked too masculine, too much like her father.
“You do look like your father,” her reflection said. “But he’s a handsome guy isn’t he?”
“I guess.”
“No, you know he is. He didn’t have any trouble with the ladies, and really neither do you. You’re androgynous. Women love that.”
Johnnie looked at herself cautiously. She was right.
“Admit it, you coward. You’re a good-looking cat.”
Johnnie looked away.
“My God, you’ve been browbeat for so long you feel guilty liking yourself.”
“I’m not supposed to like myself. It’s vain. And I look like him.”
“Fuck that. Fuck it. No more.”
Her reflection wiped the dirt from her body. “I can’t stand being trapped inside you anymore, letting you think this way. Your parents…they put you on the street. Not a penny to your name…your father ran you out of your business first, then put you on the street. That’s not love and that’s not someone who has the right to make you feel like shit about yourself. So fuck him. Fuck them. You’ve learned to live without them, so learn to live without them in your mind.”
Johnnie watched as her reflection stood as best she could and reached across the rocks for her hand. She took it and stood in a crouched position. She wiped herself free of dirt.
“Now, say what you feel. Speak. No regrets. No guilt. You’re not a bad person so you don’t have to worry about what you say. We are one now. We are good, kind, caring, and strong.”
Johnnie nodded.
Her reflection motioned toward the flap.
Johnnie nodded and took a deep breath, and stepped through. Darkness enveloped her. In a distant fog of sorts, Jolene rose from a chair and watched as Johnnie wiped herself down in dirt. Johnnie didn’t speak and neither did Jolene. She simply wrapped her in a blanket and led her to the chair. Johnnie sat and sipped tepid water. The breeze chilled her.
When Jolene placed a caring hand on her shoulder, Johnnie looked up at her and said, “It’s okay now. I’m ready.”
Jolene nodded. “Good.”
Chapter Fifty
Downtown Sedona was madness on a Saturday afternoon. Jeeps from 4x4 tours rolled through the street, back bench seats full of eager tourists, cameras fixed to their faces. Cars trolled for street parking, then turned off for any parking they could possibly find. Sidewalks crawled with moving people, like scattered ants with no direction. Shop after shop lured them in, promising art, crafts, enticing scents, new age promise, and good old-fashioned Western motif. Elaine loved it, and she crossed the street to her favorite Mexican restaurant. In the background, the red rocks loomed against a darkening sky. Soon the lightning would start and the real show would begin.
She entered the busy restaurant and weaved between tables. In the far corner, she saw Michael who threw up a hand and a smile.
“Thank God you got here early,” she said, sliding into her seat.
“Sedona on a Saturday in the spring. You know it.”
“I should’ve known better.” She pushed aside her menu, already knowing what she wanted.
“Aren’t you glad you didn’t come alone?” he asked, raising a knowing eyebrow.
“Yes, I suppose. But there are still some things I need to do on my own.”
He kept the eyebrow up. “Such as?”
She shrugged. “Just stuff.”
“You’re not thinking about hiking are you?”
She sipped the iced tea he’d ordered for her.
“El, it’s too soon. At least let me come with you.”
“I want to go on my own.”
He sighed and tossed his menu aside. “Fine. But you’re telling me where you’re going.”
“To one of the vortexes.”
“The one we’ve been to before?”
“Yes.”
He seemed to relax. “Okay then.”
She needed to stand in the center of the vortex and feel the energy. She needed it to pull her own energy out and spin it, making her dizzy. She needed it to feel alive. To know that she still had energy in her. That she hadn’t become, somehow soulless.
The waiter came and they placed their order. Elaine relaxed and took in the view through the large windows. She rested her chin on her fist and took in her long-time friend. Michael was handsome by any standard. Thick brown hair, dark eyes, breathtaking smile. If men did it for her, she’d swoon. She especially liked his lips. They curled on the end, as if he were always up to something. His husband called it his joker smile. And he’d even bought him a shirt with “Why so serious?” on it.
“You’re good-looking you know,” Elaine said, hoping he would blush. It always amused her.
He looked at her and set down his beer. “You are too,” he said. Then he leaned forward and whispered. “Wanna get outta here? Go get a room?”
She laughed. “Sure.”
He sat back and gave her a half grin. “You can butter me up all you want, but you still aren’t hiking alone.”
She fought off a whine. He was so ridiculous som
etimes. “Don’t you have a wife to worry about?”
He batted his lashes. “My wife doesn’t do irrational things. I don’t have to worry about her.”
“God, Michael. I’m fine.”
“Fine, you want me to change the subject? I will. How’s Johnnie?”
She clenched her jaw.
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “I know you still think about her. I know you care.”
“Yeah, how do you know?”
“Because you ask Julia daily if she’s called.”
“Damn her.”
“Mm hmm. And suddenly you’re into collecting art.”
“Hey, I’ve always admired art. That’s just a new hobby.”
“Have you bought one of her pieces yet?”
She looked away.
“How many?”
“I don’t have to answer your questions.”
“Jesus. Two, three? Five?”
“None.”
He reared back. “None?”
“No. Happy now?”
“Whose art is in your office?”
“An abstract artist. He’s amazing. A client recommended him. He’s blind.”
Michael seemed to be thinking about her words as he drank his beer. “Johnnie’s not an abstract artist,” he said.
“No.”
He nodded to himself.
“How did you know that?” Elaine asked.
He shrugged. “I checked into her.”
She stabbed her lemon with her fork and fished it from her glass. There was too much of it, making her tea sour. “I should be pissed. I know I should be pissed. But I’m too far gone to be pissed. So I’m gonna let this go, Michael. I’m going to let this go and try to enjoy a meal with you.”
He bit his lower lip and nodded. “Okay. So, yeah I looked into her. Forgive me for caring. But you were, or were about to, or did, cross the line with her. I got concerned. And when she showed up at the hospital looking as though she’d been gutted with a dull knife, I did some checking. Turns out, she’s okay. She’s a good person. And she’s one hell of an artist. She’s got a little bit of a past…an anxiety disorder she deals with…but you know what? She fights on. She took her talent and she made it work. She didn’t give up, and frankly, I think you could use someone like that in your life. Johnnie is hope. And you need hope.”