Johnnie and Jolene drove in silence. Jolene sipped from a can of V8 and then fidgeted with her thick weathered fingers. It had taken three Xanax to get her to agree to the trip away from the house. Unlike Johnnie, Jolene didn’t like to take medication every day in order to conquer her fear of the outside world. So to get her to go, it took a hefty dose of Xanax and the promise of something great. Today it was her brother. They were going to his home in Sedona, and Jolene was looking forward to it, regardless of her anxiety.
“He said he’s been making something new,” Jolene said, picking at her loose red cotton dress. Her braid was hanging down her left shoulder, almost like a pet snake. Johnnie watched her finish with her dress and then twist her turquoise rings.
“Can’t wait to see it,” Johnnie said. Jolene’s brother, Henry, was an artist, though his medium was different from Johnnie’s. Henry made things out of metal, and he was really popular, especially with the Sedona tourists. Johnnie took Jolene up a few times a year, and Henry often came down to deliver a piece to a customer or a gallery. Johnnie loved going and often took advantage of his sweathouse. He’d been trained in the ways of medicine by Jolene’s father who was a medicine man. Henry knew a lot, and he practiced the old ways, but only with specific people. He didn’t advertise, and didn’t usually share his services with tourists. A true medicine man, according to Henry, didn’t advertise for profit.
“I need this sweat,” Johnnie said, running a tired hand through her hair. She was so torn up inside, so confused. Her heart wanted what it couldn’t have, and Gail’s aggressive tactics were beginning to wear her down. She was always showing up, either at the studio or at her loft. Then she’d disappear for a day or two. And no matter how upset Johnnie seemed to get with her, Gail always knew exactly what to say to calm her down. She’d even calmed her after she’d last seen Elaine. Johnnie had been a wreck, yelling at her, throwing blank canvases around, collapsing on the sofa in the studio to cry. Gail had sat next to her and soothed her. Telling her she deserved someone who really wanted her, who was really there. Johnnie had pulled away, insisted they leave the studio. She drove quickly, straight to Sean’s bar where she found her booth and drank herself into oblivion.
Ian had found her and slid in across from her, talking some sense into her. He’d waited with her until she’d sobered up and then they’d driven to his house. She’d fallen onto his couch and slept, only to awaken from a nightmare at three a.m. She’d tossed the blanket off and driven home. Gail was asleep in her bed, and Johnnie had been too tired to fight it. She climbed in next to her, and Gail snuggled close, her nude body soft and warm. She’d kissed her, wiped her tears, and undressed her. Then she’d made love to her, making her come, which had made her cry. Gail had held her then, and Johnnie had finally fallen asleep.
“Gail is not good for you,” Jolene said. “You need to sweat her away.”
Johnnie didn’t argue. She knew how to get rid of Gail for good, but for some reason she was keeping her around. Why was that?
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she confessed. “I know I want Elaine, but she’s—I’m—I don’t think either one of us is really ready for what it would mean.”
“Don’t settle for second best,” Jolene said. “You need to be happy alone before you can be happy with someone else.”
Johnnie considered her words. “I am happy alone,” she said.
“Are you? You got depressed when you were alone and you couldn’t work.”
“I—” But Johnnie stopped. She wanted to say it was just a fluke, a freak thing. But she wasn’t sure what had caused it exactly. She sighed. “Fuck.”
Jolene laughed a little.
“Stop worrying now and take in the red rocks.”
Johnnie turned left and headed for Sedona. The red rocks loomed, carved especially for beauty, God’s artistic gift to those who sought them. Johnnie eased down the windows and breathed in the cool air. Henry lived just beyond the town limits. Johnnie followed the dirt road that lead to his house and wound through the scarlet landscape, breeze blowing through the brush and rare tree. When they pulled in at the house, they waited for Henry to come around. Jolene commented on how good the house looked. Henry had been doing some work, and several of his metal sculptures decorated the front desert landscape. Johnnie took them in in sheer wonder and she considered again taking up welding. Henry sure was doing well with it.
“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.