Manifesting the Grail

“Well, it looks like you are definitely not pregnant.” The attending physician said.

“What?” Chelsea replied astonished.

“You are not pregnant.” The doctor repeated.

“How can that be?” Chelsea asked as she became uncharacteristically emotional.

“Your various hormonal levels are such that you are not with child. What typically happens with women that are under unusually stressful situations---life changes, traumatic events and such, they may enter a phase of perimenopause. This can be treated with effective hormone therapies---“

“I’m not menopausal. I’m only twenty- seven.” She said growing ever more upset.

“Don’t misunderstand, Miss Barrett. I’m not saying that you are menopausal or even in perimenopause. What I’m saying is that incredible stress can bring on the symptoms. You’re just out of balance.” Doctor Whitcomb tried to calmly explain. But his words felt like needles and with each puncture Chelsea felt herself deflate even more.

“Were you…em, were you trying?” The doctor stumbled in his British tone.

“Trying?” Chelsea managed to say through her sobs.

“Trying to conceive.” He said softly.

“NO---no, no, no. It was an accident.” She said.

“Then perhaps you’re relieved to know that an unplanned pregnancy has been averted.” He said and he smiled as if his words had absolved and resolved the situation.

“Are you on birth control?” He asked as he took notes.

“Yeah. I’m on the pill.” She said.

“Perhaps when you return to the states you can see your regular gynecologist and have the doctor prescribe something that will evenly distribute your hormonal make-up.” He smiled condescendingly.

“You can’t do anything for me right now?” She asked. “I’m planning on being here for another three months. The fatigue is overwhelming. I need something so I can function and do my job.” She said.

“Do you have your birth control medication with you?” He asked. She flipped out the oval packet with the perfect circle of tablets. He eyed them and handed them back scribbling as he turned.

“You’re health care benefits don’t apply here in the U.K., you see.” He said and he looked pointedly at her.

“I see. It’s a cash only business.” Chelsea said cynically.

“Sterling.” He said in a chipper tone as he continued scribbling. “We’ll have to do a full blood work-up.”

“Can I come back?” She asked as she tried to strategize how she could pay for the new medication.

“Certainly.” He replied amiably as he reached into his white coat and produced a card.

“Just ring us up.” He said and smiled and then turned on his heel and left Chelsea alone to dress in the examination room. She sat there and a cascade of disappointment rolled over her. She could not understand why. The pregnancy had been an obstacle. But now that it had magically vanished she was experiencing loss. She could still taste Ashley on her lips and whatever soap she used mingled with her own scent stayed with Chelsea. She could smell Ashley in her hair. And somehow she thought if she wished hard enough that perhaps the pregnancy would have been the hinge that glued she and Ashley together. She fantasized that as a result of their lovemaking the child she would produce would be wholly theirs, not Scott’s. She imagined with poignant accuracy the visual characteristics that were hers and the ones that were genetically her partner’s. She had somehow subconsciously grown excited at the idea of this child being the perfect combination of Chelsea and Ashley. Intellectually she knew that it was a biological impossibility, but she could dream. And now her dreams were gone and she wondered if, perhaps, this is what it felt like to miscarry. As the tears subsided a wave of fatigue enveloped her and she wondered if Ashley had come back to the hotel to find her missing. She grabbed her phone and texted: “Couldn’t wait. I’m at the doctor’s. xo, C”

Ashley had just stepped back onto the elevator at the Savoy when her phone buzzed signifying that she had just gotten a text. She figured it was Felix so she’d check it later. Fumbling for the room key she exited on her floor carrying the coconut soup. As the door to the suite swung open she was met with silence.

“Chelsea?” She said in a regular tone. “Chelsea!”

There was no answer. It was odd and as she sat down she wondered if maybe Chelsea decided to meet with Scott again. The thought of it tore at her and she felt her stomach ache. Where could she have gone and why didn’t she call? She wondered. Then her mind began to meander to those scary places. What if she had a medical emergency? She wondered. She called the concierge from the room phone.

“Good Morning. How can I help you?” A friendly voice answered.

“Yes. I was wondering if there were any emergencies here on the top floor this morning?” Ashley asked.

“Emergencies?” The woman reiterated.

“Yes. My friend wasn’t feeling well and I’ve come back to the room to find her gone.” Ashley explained.

“There have been no emergencies here at the hotel. Perhaps, she made her way to a clinic.” The woman replied cheerfully.

“Yes---okay, thank you.” Ashley said and she hung up the phone. Just then Ashley recalled the text noise her cell had made. She quickly grabbed it from her purse just as the door to the room swung open. Chelsea stood there pale and about to unravel. Ashley froze.

“Are you okay?” Ashley asked not moving afraid that her world might collapse.

“No---yes…and no.” Chelsea said softly like a child as she shuffled over to one of the canopy beds. Ashley laid her phone down and waited. Chelsea sat down on the edge of the bed and stared blankly at the stone wall.

“I’m not pregnant.” She whispered deflated.

There was a part of Ashley that wanted to jump for joy but she could not. Somehow Chelsea’s emotions carried over and although intellectually she was glad that her friend would not be burdened with a child, she was also aware that a part of her wanted a child.

She sat down next to her and took her hand.

“I…I understand.” Ashley said and they sat there for some time in silence as the business of London drifted up off the streets and into their space.

“I dreamt it was…ours.” Chelsea said and she felt herself slowly submerge into tears.

“Oh, now. It’s okay. It’s all right. If you really want to have a child you can. You’re young enough and…” Ashley said trying to comfort her.

“No…I mean….really ours.” Chelsea said as she looked straight into Ashley’s eyes. Ashley understood completely.

“Well we can try.” Ashley chuckled hoping a little levity would help the situation. Just at that moment Chelsea’s eyes moved to Ashley’s hair. She wore a look of amazement.

“What?” Ashley asked. “What is it?”

“You’re gray.” She said still taking in her friend’s appearance.

“Yeah, I need to color my hair.”

“Don’t!” Chelsea said. “It’s more gray than I remember from last night even.”

Ashley got up and looked in the mirror and she was awestruck herself. The hair at her temples had turned color almost overnight. She was indeed gray and almost white.

“Wow.” She whispered as she pulled her hand through her mane.

“I like it.” Chelsea said smiling.

“Do you think it’s the Thai soup?” Ashley asked. Chelsea shrugged. She retrieved the sustenance encased in a plain white paper sack.

“I already had mine.” Ashley said. “I made an appointment to see Dame Chelsea Thornton this afternoon.”

“I think I might stay behind.” Chelsea said and her eyes were growing heavy. “I’m just so tired.”

“Sure. Sure. Take a nap and I’ll be back by eight and we’ll have a nice supper on the town.” Ashley replied.

Richard awoke with a start. He rubbed his eyes and found Victoria sitting at the end of the room at a small servant’s desk as the winter sunlight bathed her in an almost whitish glow.

“What are you doing, dear?” He said softly as he cleared the sleep from his voice.

“Making notes.” She said without lifting her head. “I must contact Stanford White about the house. Repairs should begin by mid-April for it to be habitable by the end of the summer.” She said and her forehead crinkled with determination. “We shall have to spend our anniversary elsewhere I’m afraid…Perhaps Paris?” She giggled.

Richard looked about and found that Mr. Watkins and Mrs. Hopkins had already dressed and begun the day.

“They’re at breakfast, dear.” Victoria said and she finally looked up and smiled at him.

“I was waiting for you.” And her words cascaded over him like a memory from the future. It echoed and resounded with potent meaning and revelation. He sat down in a small cane chair next to her. She ran her fingers tenderly through his hair and she gazed at his temples.

“So distinguished.” She whispered and she smiled revealing a part of herself that Richard had not fully seen before.

“You’ve been through so much.” She said almost to herself but trying to explain the increase of white in his hair. But Richard was well aware why his hair was turning gray so fast. It was not stress or trauma or fear, but rather knowing. She gazed down at his hands and noticed the orange thread wrapped about his index finger. She pulled at it and he seemed protective.

“Saving threads from my scarf?” She said lightly.

“Yes.” He replied leaving no explanation.

“Whatever for?” She asked.

“So I won’t forget.” He said teasingly.

“What is it that you might forget, dear?” She replied inquisitively.

“What you’ll look like in one hundred and twenty two years.” He replied enigmatically. She laughed but there was something very real to his words and she knew deep down that he was telling the truth. She gazed out of the window over the white landscape and the river in the distance. The way the light reflected off her porcelain skin reminded Richard of the halos that the renaissance masters used to paint in a bygone era.

“We’re finally going home.” She said in a dreamy tone as if they had been away for years.

“Yes, we’re going home.” He said and he kissed her tenderly.

Ashley parked her rented Vespa and quickly walked into the Assisted living residence where Dame Chelsea Thornton lived. As she moved to the circular ‘concierge’ in the lobby she noticed that Delilah was sitting there.

“Delilah, would you please let Dame Thornton know that I am here for my appointment.” She said sweetly without ever looking her in the eyes.

Delilah hissed, got up and disappeared for a moment. Ashley took in the grand hall that was the foyer. Various etchings and engravings lined the dark oak walls. It seemed more in keeping with an exclusive Victorian men’s club than a contemporary home for the aged. Suddenly a young nurse appeared. She was not dressed the requisite white or green scrubs. Her attire was for a formal dinner. The only clue that she was a nurse was her name tag.

“Maggie Cummings.” She said as she stretched out her hand warmly. “Dame Thornton is very excited to see you…Right this way.” They walked down the elegant hallway that Ashley had remembered the night before but turned right into a large sunroom. Dame Chelsea was sitting in a wheelchair next to the window reading the London Times.

“Ah, my protege! Maggie you are a dear. Thank you.” The Dame said warmly. Maggie smiled and petted her hand.

“If you need anything just ring.” Maggie said as she smiled at Ashley and vanished leaving them to their private conversation.

“You’ve seen him.” The Dame said and she patted the chair next to her signifying Ashley to sit.

“Him.” Ashley reiterated unsure whether or not to speak of the experience.

“Grandfather.” The dame said. Ashley slowly nodded as she sat.

“I knew it.” And her eyes took in Ashley’s graying hair. “Soon there will be no demarcation.”

“I’m not sure I follow.” Ashley said confused.

“You seek the grail.” The Dame smiled.

“Actually I came to talk to you about learning the Rhys paintings.” Ashley said.

“I gave you the order. The rest falls upon you, dear.” She replied.

“Yes, I know. But for me to stay in London for the required length of time I was wondering if it might be all right for Chelsea and I to stay at the Hyde Park residence?”

“Why certainly. I suggested it last night. I don’t know why you’re staying in that old hotel. I shall ring Mr. Wilkins and let him know to expect you this evening for dinner.” The Dame said and her smile was supple and young and her eyes bright as if she were twenty years old again.

“You realize you are everlasting, grandfather.” She continued. And the words gave Ashley pause. “You’ve met the one who holds.”

Again Ashley slowly nodded unsure of the words and yet quite sure of the meaning.

“The grail holds.” The Dame continued. Then she took Ashley’s hands in hers and gazed at her intently. A smile bloomed across her face.

“I want to come back, grandfather.” She said softly as if revealing the ultimate secret. “Will you visit me again?”

Ashley nodded yes.

“There is much to learn.” The Dame continued then she turned toward the window and the sunlight and closed her eyes. Ashley got up and placed the small blanket across the Dame’s lap and tiptoed out.

The Elixir of Faith

Her hand clasped the armrest as if she were dangling from a precipice.  The engines roared and as the jet taxied down the runway her knuckles turned white.  She took in a deep breath and held it as if that was only thing keeping her on board.  Chelsea studied Ashley as the jet became airborne and the force of liftoff made her sink deeper into the already cramped seat.  She reached over and laid her hand gently on top of Ashley’s and the white knuckles eased their grip and rested comfortably.

“A friend usually gives me an atavan, but he was all out.” Ashley said as she tried to deepen her breath.

“It’ll be okay.” Chelsea said softly.  And as Ashley turned to look at her she could see something reassuring in her eyes and suddenly she was outside of herself.

“I used to love to fly.”  Ashley said quietly.  “Then about a year and a half after 911 I suddenly developed a real aversion to it.”

Chelsea squeezed Ashley’s hand and something about that sweet compassionate gesture eased her fear even more.

“What is it that you think you’re afraid of?” Chelsea asked as she shifted and relaxed into the flight.

“I think it comes down to claustrophobia.” Ashley said softly.

“Really.”

“Yeah.  I can’t ask the driver to pull over and let me off.  Once I’m on I can’t get out.”  Ashley said.

“What was your attitude about it when you enjoyed flying?” Chelsea asked as she motioned for the stewardess.

“I don’t know.  I guess I always felt free.  Independent.  Like an adult. Like my dad, actually.  He was a salesman and he used to travel all the time. Flying was fun.”  Ashley said and her breath shortened.

“Don’t you feel free?” Chelsea asked as the attendant arrived.  “Yes, I’ll have a screwdriver.” She said as she pulled out a crisp ten spot.  The question resonated with Ashley.  She was unsure whether to bring up Felix or not.  She was so conflicted.  She felt like she owed something to him but she was absolutely in love with Chelsea. 

“Not so much.”  Ashley whispered.

“Why?” Chelsea asked.

“Because I’m not sure how to ask for help.” Ashley confessed.

“I’ll help you.” Chelsea said nonchalantly.

“I’m not sure if you can.” Ashley replied enigmatically and tears welled up in her yes.  She could feel her lungs start to constrict and something profound rise up from her belly.

“Hey.” Chelsea said as she moved sideways to tend to Ashley. “Hey---It’s going to be okay.  We’ll be in London in five hours tops.  I promise.  Then we’ll get to the hotel so you can lie down.”

“Once I’m on the ground I’ll be okay.”  Ashley said between hushed sobs.

“You’re just having a little panic attack.  Just breathe.  Nothing is going to happen.  You’re going to be just fine.” Chelsea reassured as she ran her fingers through Ashley’s hair.

“Close your eyes…Breathe.” Chelsea said demurely.  “What color do you see?”

Ashley closed her eyes and after a moment she saw swirling pink wheels before her.  They were almost cosmic and yet comic.

“Pink.” Ashley replied.

“Pink is a great color.”  Chelsea said as she threaded her fingers through Ashley’s.  Ashley could feel the energy moving through them. She could feel the sea.

“Red and white.”  Chelsea added then she paused a moment. “White is the potential for fulfillment.  Red achieves.” She whispered as she turned her eyes directly towards Ashley. Ashley opened her eyes and everything in her line of vision was cloaked with a rose tint. “Universal love.”  Chelsea said piercingly.  “When you give someone a pink flower it means ‘I will never forget you.’”. 

Ashley studied her friend for a moment.  Somehow the words echoed as if she had heard them before.  Perhaps someone told her the meaning and she had forgotten about it until now.  And as she thumbed through her mental rolodex to recall who might have conveyed this information she realized that Chelsea had successfully distracted her enough to momentarily forget her fear.  The panic attack had subsided and so had her tears.

“Here.” Chelsea said as she handed Ashley a small blue pill.

“What is this?” Ashley asked.

“Tylenol PM.  It’ll help you go to sleep and before you know it we’ll be in the UK.” Chelsea said cheerfully.  Ashley downed the sleep inducing medication and as an Adam Sandler film began to play she was asleep within fifteen minutes.

 

Chelsea was halfway through her screwdriver when she suddenly felt a bit nauseous.  She got up to go to the bathroom when a flight attendant stopped her.

“I’m sorry, miss, but you have to remain in your seat.  The pilot has not turned off the seatbelt sign.”  She said smugly.

“I’m about to puke so you better make way or this entire row could be in the splash zone.” Chelsea said matter-of-factly.

“Let her go!  Let her go!”  The passengers chanted and Chelsea pushed the attendant aside and stepped quickly down the center aisle.  She made it just in time as her lunch came up quite suddenly.  She waited for another wave and sure enough the last bits of lunch reappeared.  After barfing two or three times she felt exhausted and sat down on the toilet.  There was a soft knock on the door.

“Are you done in there?” A passenger called.

“Just a minute.”  Chelsea replied.  She splashed some water on her face and then thought it couldn’t hurt to check her phone.  As she turned it back on there was another knock on the door.

“I’m sorry but I really have to go!”  The passenger said urgently.

“Okay, okay.” Chelsea said and she pocketed her phone and opened the door.  The passenger looked sheet white and she wondered if maybe some stomach virus might be going around. She stepped through the portal as the man jumped inside and the sounds of an upset stomach leeched out into the cabin.  She thought maybe she should hang around in case another wave of nausea came over her. She waited outside the accordion door as if in line.  She inconspicuously pulled her phone out and realized there was a text message from Scott.  “Call me.  It’s important.” Chelsea felt herself sinking.  What the hell had she gotten herself into she wondered.  Another wave of nausea washed over her but she swallowed hard and took a deep breath and said to herself, “I will not throw up.  I will not throw up.”  It was only the beginning of the plane ride.  It would be a long five to six hours.  The same stewardess made a beeline for Chelsea. 

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask you to take your seat now.” She said sweetly.

“I’m fighting another wave of nausea.”  Chelsea replied.  The stewardess reached over her head and rummaged through a back compartment.  Within moments she handed Chelsea a barf bag.  A large barf bag.

“I guess it’d be another story if it decided to move the other way.” Chelsea said.  The flight attendant glared.  “Thank you for your compassion, Marsha.” She added as she read the woman’s name tag and made her way back to her seat.

The wheels squealed as the air breaks engaged.  Heathrow was a blue-black foggy no man’s land.  Chelsea looked over at Ashley sleeping peacefully.  She did not want to wake her but it was time to disembark.  As she sat there gazing at her friend she knew she would have to somehow explain her condition.  She had to speak with Scott first.

“Ashley…Ashley.” Chelsea cooed. “Come on, sweetheart.  We’ve arrived.”  The words held weight.  Ashley struggled to open her eyes and for a moment she seemed perplexed and disoriented.

“We’re in London.”  Chelsea said softly then she closed her eyes hoping to see the color pink.

 

The line was long and slow.  Chelsea could feel another wave of illness overtake her.

“Are you okay?  You look really pale.”  Ashley said concerned as she hefted the two bags from the baggage carousel..

“My stomach isn’t right.” Chelsea said.

“Do you need something to eat?” Ashley asked.

“Oh God no.” Chelsea replied.  Then she darted off in the direction of the ladies room.  Ashley took the bags out of the customs line until Chelsea returned.

Chelsea threw up once more but there was nothing left in her stomach.

“Jesus Christ.” She said as she drew in a breath and looked at the empty toilet.  She pulled out her phone and dialed Scott.

“’Ello, Scott here.” She heard him say after the third ring.

“Scott, it’s Chelsea.” She said weakly,

“Oh, hey. Chelsea.”  He said.  “Um.  How are you?”

“I’ve been better.” She replied. “I got your text.”

“Yeah, em.  Well, em.  I, uh…remembered something.” He said sheepishly.

“Go on.” Chelsea replied.

“We did shag after all.”  He said bluntly.

“I figured as much.” She said and she had to chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

“What’s so funny.” He said with a hint of indignation.

“The fact that I don’t remember any of it and that I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant.” She replied.

“Oh, Bloody hell.”  He said and there was a long pause.  “What’re you going to do?” He asked.

“Well considering that I pretty much don’t know you at all my choices are pretty clear.” She said.

“Yeah, well, ah, sure.  I figured you would take care of it.”  He said enigmatically.  “Look, I’m really, really sorry about what happened.  If I can help in any way---“ He stuttered.

“Yeah, well, I’ll probably need about a thousand pounds.” Chelsea said. “That’s about what it costs”.

“Yeah----sure.  Yes, of course.  Em…I can give you a note---“ He started.

“I want cash.” Chelsea said tiredly.

“Oh, All right then.  Shall I wire it to you?” He asked.

“Actually I just landed in London so I’m in town.” She replied.

“Oh, em, well.” He said and then he went quiet for a moment. “If you stop by the office I’ll have it ready---“  He stammered.

“You know what?  I’m at the Savoy.  Call me when you’re in the lobby and I’ll come down.” She interrupted.

“Right, well then. I’ll be there straightaway---” He began but she hung up.  She strolled out into the bustling airport and spotted Ashley waiting nervously.  When she caught her eye Ashley said, “Are you okay?  I guess we have to wade through customs before I can get us a cab.”  They looked around and the line snaked around several times. 

“I’m in a new kind of hell.” Chelsea whispered.

 

Ashley handled their bags as Chelsea moved only when she had to.  It was about ten o’clock in the morning London time. Ashley was stunned at how small everything seemed.  New York was such a big city.  Everything was big---the streets, the buildings, the cars, the sidewalks.  It amazed her how quaint this big little city really was.  Everything made compact.  Perhaps they didn’t know they could have it any other way, Ashley thought.  It was an island after all.  But, then, so was Manhattan.  The cabs were small and extremely expensive but the drivers were the same.  It didn’t matter what country you visited the taxi cab drivers were usually Indian, Pakistani or Egyptian. 

“I really think you should eat something.”  Ashley advised climbing into the car.

“It’ll just come up again---and the thought of English food makes me want to heave.” Chelsea said as she rested her head on the back of the seat and closed her eyes.

“How about something light and vegetarian.” Ashley suggested.  Chelsea laughed.

“If you can find it I’ll try and keep it down.” She replied.

“I know of a place.” The Cabdriver interjected happily.

“Awesome.” Ashley said.

The cab pulled up to the Savoy, a brilliant old time grand hotel. 

“I need to make two more stops.” Ashley said to the driver.  “So wait until I come back out, please.” The cabbie nodded and smiled.  Ashley pulled the bags from the small trunk just as the bellhop arrived with a valet cart.  She turned and took Chelsea’s hand.  She put her other hand to Chelsea’s forehead. 

“You’re not feverish.”  She said with a nurturing voice.  Chelsea moved awkwardly. 

“Something disagrees with me is all” She replied.  Then Ashley kissed her.  Right there on the curb of the hotel.  Where everyone could see.  In broad daylight.  Chelsea pulled away after a moment.

“I lost my head.”  Ashley said quietly.  “I’m still groggy from the Tylenol.” She added as she stepped back.

“I’m sorry.” Chelsea said.  “I didn’t mean to…” and she could feel herself dissolving into tears. “I’m just, I’m…” She tried to explain.

“Maybe you’re just tired.” Ashley said and she smiled kindly through her wound.  “Can you check us in while I find something you can eat?”  Chelsea nodded but the tears kept flowing.  Her hormones must be surging, she thought.  And the fatigue was overwhelming.  Ashley climbed back into the cab.

“Take me to the vegetarian place, please.”  And before she knew it they were speeding through the small streets curving one way and then another.  Ashley was astounded at the layout of the roads.  It reminded her of those times she used to get lost in the west village because it is one of the few places in New York not built on the grid system.  How could anyone navigate such a hodge podge of convergences and divergent paths.  They pulled down a set of streets that seemed oddly familiar.  Ashley had never been to London before, though.  Perhaps they reminded her of a part of New York, she thought.  But most of the buildings were modern.  Only a few row houses seemed reminiscent of old brownstones. 

“Where are we?” Ashley asked and even though the sun had burned through the fog and things seemed clearer there was a darkness that settled over the area.

“Whitechapel. The East End, Miss.”  The driver said cheerfully.  Suddenly Ashley felt her own version of nausea move through her.

“This is where Jack the Ripper committed his heinous crimes.”  The driver added.  Ashley reasoned that maybe she was picking up on the dark vibe of the past.  She was like a sponge sometimes in that way.  And although she had heard of Jack the Ripper she was not at all interested in the sensationalism of the crimes or the perpetrator whoever he was.  She couldn’t ignore the feeling, though.  She had definitely been in this place before.  The old pub on the corner was familiar. She had seen the gas street lamps on the side street perhaps in another time.  She felt herself slipping away slowly as if fading into another dimension.  London was magical but in a wholly different way than New York.  An abundance of blackness like ink followed the traveler on his path.  It wafted in on the air as she climbed out into what seemed like a pervasively Indian neighborhood.

“Wait for me, please.” She requested and then ducked into the small storefront for traditional Mumbai cuisine.  Inside the diverse clientele was amazing.  As she stood to the side holding a paper menu she gazed out over a plethora of cultural diversity.  Africans, Carrribeans, East Indians, Asians and a few hipsters basking in their secret discovery.

“You!  You, what you like?” An old woman in a bright orange sari shouted.  Her hair was stark white and her eyes so ancient that it was disconcerting.

“Me?” Ashley asked.

“Yes, yes, what you like?” the old woman repeated impatiently.

“What do you recommend for a sour stomach?” Ashley asked innocently.  The old woman removed her apron and darted out from behind the counter.  She took Ashley’s hand and led her down a small wooden hallway.  The restaurant itself seemed like a tin shack.  Something similar to a roadside barbeque joint in the South. Single tables lined the corridor each filled with patrons squeezed against the wall but enjoying the experience.  As Ashley clung to the old woman’s hand she felt like she was floating.  She was definitely outside of her body and simultaneously fully engaged.  The corridor opened into another small room.  Several old women were working behind another counter.  The customers all Asian. The old woman gestured for her to sit.

“You having a baby.” The woman said matter-of-factly.

“No---no.  Not at all.  My friend has a little motion sickness is all.” Ashley explained.

“No.  You having baby.” The old woman insisted.

“That’s impossible.  I’m one hundred percent sure that I am not pregnant.”  Ashley insisted.

“You not pregnant but you ARE having baby.” The old woman smiled and laughed. Ashley wondered if she were dreaming.  Was this conversation really happening?  Then she thought that things were being lost in translation so she smiled and nodded back in agreement.

“Something to settle the stomach.”  She said slow and loud and her southern accent made the room turn.  She became the center of attention all of a sudden.  The old woman shifted and spoke in an unfamiliar language to the cooks behind the shoddy counter.  They all smiled and began preparing a concoction.

“Soup.  We make a soup.  You feel better real soon.” The old woman said and she gazed intently at Ashley. 

“Ansa.” She said and she pointed to herself and smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Ansa.” Ashley replied courteously.

“You Ansa.” The old woman laughed and then poked Ashley with her bony finger.

“Okay.  Sure.”  Ashley agreed a bit confused.  She just wanted to get the soup and get back to Chelsea.  Then the old woman removed a beautiful saffron colored scarf and placed it around Ashley’s neck.  An amazingly kind smile bloomed slowly across the woman’s face and she suddenly did not look old anymore.  She was timeless.  The scarf was warm and comforting.  And Ashley could see those pink wheels spinning before her open eyes.  She realized she hadn’t eaten anything since the day before.  Maybe her blood sugar was low and she was seeing spots, she wondered.  She was still on Eastern time so it was only about 4:00AM in her mind.  Way too early to be having an existential experience.

“Remember me.”  The old woman said softly and she touched Ashley’s temples like a grandmother.  It felt natural and yet too familiar.  She pulled away and the old woman clapped her hands.  Another woman stepped lively carrying a take-out bag with the soup inside.

“It last a long time.” The old woman said mysteriously then she burst into laughter.

“How much? Ashley asked nervously. 

“Three pounds.” The younger woman said.  Ashley placed the money plus a gratuity on the table.

“Thank you.” She said softly and quickly made her way out.