The Way Things Are.
Filling in the canvas begun with "The Package"
How can someone who grows up surrounded by extended family possibly understand the life of someone who grows up in an orphanage? Placed in the care of an orphanage at the tender age of two weeks, and having grown up there to adulthood, Cassandra knew a group of nuns as her permanent family, and a revolving door of siblings who came to the orphanage and were adopted out.
This is not a tale of abuses endured in an orphanage, by far, but rather the start point of Cassandra’s story - a story which was summarized with an obituary reading:
“Cassandra Brown: Beloved mother of Charlotte Brown, aka, Charlie, succumbed to her long battle with cancer on November 29th, 2023. Cassandra was well known for her shortbread cookies, her find-a-word books - always completed from cover to cover, and the mystery she kept her whole life through: who was Charlie’s dad? …. (for more on this obituary and story, read The Package).”
On the outskirts of Albuquerque, where the tumbleweed blew lazily across the dusty landscape, the orphanage was part of a compound managed by the group of nuns who lived here. They were a group of women, non-denominational, with a simple, common interest: to love and care for abandoned children as an expression of their faith. They provided a safe, loving environment in which Cassandra grew up. When she was ready to leave as a young adult, Sister Christine had opened up a colour map.
“Where would you like to go? Do you prefer to stay nearby? The world is your oyster, dearie.”
Always fascinated with the big open New Mexico skies, and entranced by nature, Cassandra picked Whitehorse, Yukon as her landing pad. Assured by the sisters that she would always be welcomed back, she boarded a greyhound bus with a small backpack and a starter fund the sisters had put together for her, and made the many-day journey to Whitehorse.
The family of God is a network that defies bloodlines, and Sister Christine had organized for a retired couple to receive Cassandra. She stayed with Bill and Lori until she got a job and had saved up enough to rent her own little flat. She built her community of friends, knitting herself into the local landscape.
And in the year she turned 22, an exchange student from London, Ontario, showed up on the canvas of her life. Mario was doing some degree in community development. He had a year in Whitehorse, and on his first day he walked into the little restaurant where Cassandra worked as a server. Theirs was a case of instant chemistry. He managed to ask her out for a walk before he paid his bill. She couldn’t control the smile that crossed her face every time she thought of him, or approached his table.
Cassandra hadn’t had any other serious relationships. Neither had Mario. They fell head over heels in love, in the way that is possible only in youth. They spent every possible moment that they could together, and Mario was keen to have Cassandra move back to London with him when his exchange year was done.
They shared their hopes and dreams - dreams unsullied as yet by the disappointments that life can sometimes bring.
“The world simply can’t continue to sustain the way human beings live.” Mario was so passionate about making a difference in the world - again, in that way that is possible only in youth.”
“The world as a whole needs to stop having babies upon babies and we need to stop living with such rabid individuality. Return to community living is the key to building a sustainable future.”
“I like the idea of having babies upon babies. Maybe it’s because I didn’t grow up in a family the way you did.” Cassandra held her ground in these friendly debates which usually ended up in laughter and giggles, embraces and tickles … and as their relationship progressed - more affectionate overtures.
Mario had a clear idea of the life path he wanted though. It really didn’t include having babies.
Cassandra dreamt of the exact opposite: becoming a mom and giving birth to her own children whom she would hold close and simply love unconditionally. Finally - her own family. Her own flesh and blood.
As the months of Mario’s one year internship slipped by, they grew closer and closer, but they did not make a plan for what would happen when the year was up.
Perhaps both recognized that the differences in what they wanted were fundamental differences: there is no compromise when it comes to having or not having children - there is no splitting hairs, no in-between place. This is just the way things were between them. Sometimes that deeply felt love, passion and attraction between two partners simply isn’t enough to make things work out.
A few months before Mario was due to leave, Cassandra had a phone call with Sister Christine. She had always been able to go to the older woman for counsel and advice, never fearing judgement or criticism.
“I know that I love this man. He wants me to go back to London with him.” Cassandra said. “And, I also know that if I am to live my life without children of my own, I will eventually not be able to love him in the same way. Eventually, our differences will erode our love. Eventually we will both end up unhappy. It breaks my heart to even think about this. But it is the elephant in the room of our relationship: the reason we aren’t making any plans beyond his time here. We both know we want different things out of life. We both know our differences outweigh our places of common ground.”
“And it is ok to simply acknowledge that.” Sister Christine replied, leaving a long pause for this to simply sink in.
“If you think of the rain or dew that comes to settle on leaves - it is like temporary jewelry - spectacular - even ethereal in its beauty. But never designed to be permanent.”
“And if you try to force it into being a permanent art installation, you’ll never succeed. All that’ll happen is you’ll destroy the beauty of what is. It is simply the way things are.”
Cassandra cried on the line. Quietly. Realizing the wisdom in Sister Christine’s words.
“Dearie, I know this is hard on you. There are so many things in life that we simply cannot hold on to. We must admire their beauty, enjoy them while they last, but in order to enjoy them this way, we have to let go of the outcomes. We take responsibility for what we want, what we hope to do or achieve or be, but we cannot take responsibility for what someone else wants, and how they plan to go about living their lives. God gave each one of us agency. You have agency. So does Mario. Neither one of you is wrong or bad for wanting what you want.”
And even as Cassandra cried, she knew that Sister Christine was right. The essence of Mario was captured in his choices, his preferences, his mores. The essence of Cassandra was similarly captured in her choices, her preferences, her mores. And if these essentials did not align, theirs was still a beautiful, spectacular love. Never meant to be a permanent art installation.
So, when, in the last month of Mario’s stay in Whitehorse, Cassandra realized she was pregnant, she made a choice. She said nothing of her pregnancy. She continued to love Mario to the end of her days. As he continued to love her. But when his internship ended, she saw him off at the same greyhound terminal where she had arrived in Whitehorse. Glad that a part of Mario was left within her. A legacy of their love which allowed her to let him go with a deeper measure of peace.
About eight months later, surrounded by the family of friends she had made in Whitehorse, Cassandra Brown gave birth to Charlotte Brown, who grew up to be Charlie Brown.
Cassandra enjoyed every minute of being a mom, and continued to love Mario until she died, following his life with very occasional contact: letters that, when technology allowed, changed to emails and facebook messages.
She never let Mario know that Charlie was his daughter - but they laughed when they found out they both had daughters named Charlie.
That is just the way things are.
This story fills in a fictional landscape that began with: The Package and continued with The Charcuterie Board.
Love your stories Janaki. Thank you.