Page 44

“Quick question,” says Yas as we walk east on Newport Avenue. “Am I your ‘business manager’?”

“How did you know?”

“Oh, mama. I can already tell you’re going to owe me lunch for this one.”

We place our order at the counter at Poma’s—the quintessential, cash-only surfside sandwich shop.

Subs here are a foot long and are served with a side of peperoncini peppers.

Chips are made from freshly-sliced potatoes that get flash fried in a vat of oil and sprinkled with salt and vinegar.

Trust me when I say, they are worth every penny—and calorie.

“So as your ‘business manager,’ I humbly request that you fill me in here, Ms. Monopoly. Last time I checked, you were some version of a broke, defunct fortune teller who was taking bad advice from evil influencers. Now you’re investing in high-end commercial real estate 2,500 miles away from your home? ”

“ This is my home,” I say. “I’m moving back.”

“It’s expensive here,” she reminds me.

“I know. But I came into some money,” I say, swallowing a crisp sip of Diet Coke straight from the cold can. “A lot of it.”

“Alright. Are we talking…scratch-off lotto ticket winnings, or money laundering?”

“Inheritance,” I answer.

“Who died?”

“Gerda, my old landlord.”

“Whoa. Really? She’s OB royalty. How did I not hear about that? I can’t tell if I’m more shocked she died, or that she left you money.”

“How do you think I feel? I guess I was the only person who resembled family to her. How sad is that?”

“Not sad at all,” saysYas. “You are the family she got to choose. It’s the family we don’t get to choose that sets us up for true sadness.”

When she says that, I think briefly about my own family, specifically, my mother—who all but abandoned me and my sisters, in her quest to find her true authentic self. Maybe it’s because she’s still looking for it?

“So how much did she leave you?” asks Yas, grounding me to our business-oriented conversation.

“Enough to get in the door at the old yoga studio—both floors,” I say of the six-figure price tag.

“So if I’m hearing you correctly, you want to take this giant lump sum of cash you recently stumbled upon, and at your most destitute point in life, dump it into a building that may or may not get swallowed by the sand in five years?”

“That’s why we’ll go to the panel discussion tomorrow. Get a vibe for if we think they have that issue under control or not.”

“This is California. I can call a casting agency and have a ‘panel of experts’ assembled in ten minutes for a few hundred bucks. Regardless, what are you going to make it into? Joe n’ Flow 2.0?”

“Not exactly. As much as I loved that concept, I know I can’t do it justice—nor can I recreate anything close to how good their lattes were.

Plus, I’ve evolved. I’m not just a front-desk girl at a yoga studio by the beach anymore.

I’m a businesswoman. And even though I’m currently in a bit of a rough patch, I’m pretty sure I see the way out. ”

“And that is…?”

“Vine n’ Vibes.”

Yasmin sips her Diet Coke through a straw and nods her head as she lets that sink in.

“Vine n’ Vibes, huh? Tell me more.”

“First floor: wine bar,” I say.

“And who’s running that?” she asks.

My eyes widen as I hope the part-time sommelier picks up what I’m throwing down.

“I love how I went from your business manager to your business partner in about three seconds flat. You’re lucky I think OB is really missing the mark on having a solid wine bar option this close to the ocean. What’s on the second floor, mama?”

“Second floor: crystal shop.”

“Just crystals?”

“No. I’m envisioning the whole kit and caboodle. Smudge sticks, mortars, pestles, books, bottles…”

“...Lotions and potions, oh my?”

“Oh, yes,” I say, having essentially just described Angeline’s shop with an OB flare for the weird. “What do you think?”

“Honestly? I think it’s a great idea. Never before had I thought about marrying those two things together in a business setting, but I do just that every day in my personal life. I can’t give you forty hours a week—but I can be ‘in’ on some level.”

Yas is a catch in a million different ways. Having her so much as consult on Vine n’ Vibes is frankly more than I could have hoped for.

“What do you think I should go in at? Full ask? I probably need to get aggressive, they said there are multiple showings.”

“I know you’re excited to materialize your next chapter in life, and I’m loving the newfound boss-lady confidence. But stay the course. First, I suggest you pray on it. Then, of course, we attend the panel discussion tomorrow.”

“Pray on it? I’m not religious. And I thought you weren’t either.”

“Praying doesn’t always mean kneeling by your bed clutching the rosary. There’s a Moon Beam Bath Ritual on the beach tonight. I’m definitely attending. I suggest you do the same.”

“A Moon Beam Bath Ritual? I don’t think I’m prepared for that,” I say.

“Have you ever done a cold bath plunge?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you’re prepared. A lot of people will be there, Moonie, just floating around in the love and light of our dear Mother Moon.

It’s a great symbolic energy all around.

Afterward, I bet that you’ll feel a level of clarity you won’t be able to get anywhere else.

And then, you’ll have your answer. Now, are you going to eat your peperoncini peppers, or can I have them? ”

Yas invites me to stay with her in her home for the duration of my trip.

The problem is, I don’t know how long the duration of my trip is, and the last thing I want is to be an imposition to my friend who has already dropped everything to pick me up at the airport last minute, shuttle me to an impromptu real estate showing, and take in way more carbs than her system has probably processed in years.

But aside from all that, I wanted to be back sleeping in Ocean Beach, as close to the water as possible.

When your soul connects to a place in this wide, vast world, you want to find it there as much as possible.

SoI booked myself an Airbnb that isn’t half bad.

I already know it won’t be like Gerda’s slice of perfection, but a studio on the second floor of a t-shirt store sounded like a palatable place to put my bags down.

Bonus, it’s just a five-minute walk to the full moon ritual thing that Yasmin talked me into attending—and I may or may not pass my favorite ice cream shop along the way.

I don’t know much about a moon beam bath, but I do know it needs to be dark before entering the water.

The sun goes down quite early this time of year, so I throw on some makeshift swimwear (a sports bra and some boy shorts I planned to sleep in), put on my hoodie, and head out toward the water around 5:30pm.

As I make my way to the shoreline, I pass people who are sitting outside slurping ramen at hot-spot OB Noodle House.

I see people practicing juggling and playing hacky sack.

I see people shopping sidewalk sales in flowy dresses and crocheted tops.

Nothing really has changed about the essence of this place in the months since I’ve been gone.

But instead of finding that frustrating, I find it comforting.

The pace of life here—albeit slow—feels doable, welcoming, and warm.

Perhaps I feel those things in their entirety because most social media notifications on my phone have been disabled.

With my Instagram account deactivated for the time being and my online store shut down, the incessant dings and pings have come to a hard stop.

What felt deafeningly lonely and hopeless in Chicago feels perfectly appropriate here.

There is no underlying sense of doom as I walk toward the water.

I know I haven’t experienced the clear-minded powers of the ritual just yet, but I’m starting to understand that if I want to do what I love on a level that doesn’t chip away at my soul, that looks like opening brick-and-mortar in the No-Bad-Days capital of the world—not like making a deal with the social media devil and falsifying the words inmy Instagram bio.

The Moon Beam Bath Ritual is in full swing by the time my toes touch the cool sand.

As far as I know, this isn’t sanctioned by any one specific group or healer.

I imagine some OB resident made a Facebook invite that spread like wildfire amongthe likeminded community and that’s how a bunch of woo-woo people found themselves on the beach after dark tonight.

It’s so dark and crowded that there’s virtually no hope I’ll find Yas , which is fine.

I’m sure I’ll be seeing quite a bit of her over the next couple days while I sort out my life.

Who I do keep an eye out for, however, is someone who looks like they’ve done this before—someone who appears to be heading confidently toward the cold, dark water—so that I can ask that someone if there’s any trick to mastering a moon beam bath before I hop into the chilly waters myself.

That’s when I spy a middle-aged lady disrobing. She has a bathing cap on. She’s fetching earplugs from her bag. This is definitely someone who’s floated around under the starry sky before.

“Excuse me,” I say, catching her before she puts the balls of puttyinto her ears. “Any tips for a first timer?”

The woman stands up from her crouching by her bag and turns to face me.

“I know that voice.”

“Mom?!”

“ Moonie .”

She throws her arms around me as my jaw drops to the ground.

It’s been years since I’ve seen her in the flesh, since I’ve been hugged by her with such force.

As I gaze over her shoulder, I can’t believe I didn’t notice the giant tour bus emblazoned with “Metaphysical Spiritual Sisterhood – Sedona , AZ” on the side.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“The same thing you are. Taking a bath under the magic of the moon in the great Pacific Ocean. We do this field trip annually. Oh, how I miss being near a body of water! We don’t have this in Arizona, you know.”

“June, are you coming?” one of my mom’s “sisters” asks her.

“In a minute. I’m catching up with daughter.”

“I should have figured that’s your daughter. You two are twins!” the lady says.

Twins? My mom looks thinner than I’ve ever seen, albeit undeniably happy and beaming. I, on the other hand, look like I have been plagued by a deep sense of stress and sadness that I’m just now beginning to push through.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“How was I supposed to know you’d be here, silly?” she asks in a playful tone.

“I mean, just in general. Ever,” I bring back the seriousness.

“I’m, I…” she stutters. How could she have never thought we’d have to have this conversation at some point? I decide to help her.

“Look, Mom. I know you’re…special.”

“And I know you are, too” she says back.

Suddenly, it’s as if the two of us have been seen and heard for the for the first time, in a long time. Do I have questions? Yes. Many. And I intend on getting answers to each of them in time. But for now, it’s like a tollgate has lifted and it’s my turn to drive through and keep the journey going.

“So what’s this all about?” I ask, gesturing to the water, which is currently filled with buoyant moon worshipers of all shapes and sizes.

“Moonie, I’m going to tell you something.

If you can get outside and bathe in the moonlight, you are one of the lucky ones.

There are few better ways to connect yourself with nature and take in the energy of the full moon than bathing outside like this.

It’s incredibly healing. Incredibly clarifying. ”

“And incredibly cold.”

“You’ll get used to it. Come on. Let’s get into the water already!” she shouts, as if the ocean is running out of room for us.

My mom extends her dainty hand. She wears a stack of crystal beaded bracelets on her wrist in a way that gives me slight Esther Higgins vibes. One of them is green peridot with a few lava rocks.

My gaze drifts back up to her face. Her eyes are eager and bright.

Most moms want to go to The Cheesecake Factory for lunch with their daughters and gossip.

Mine wants me to jump into the cold ocean waters with her and float around until we turn to prunes.

Judging this moment for anything but the potential it has to be pure and wonderful makes me no different than a guy like Ollie.

My desire to be anything but that supersedes my desire to hurl twenty questions at the woman.

“Okay. I’m ready,” I say, after disrobing and grabbing on to her hand. Note that when I do, there is an absence of any sort of futuristic vision.

We really are cut from the same cloth.