by Gaby Triana
“The service sucks here.”
She pointed an accusing finger at me. “Stay with your bruja friends. I’ll have somebody pick me up.”
“Cami, I tried to warn you.”
“About which part? That you’re a bruja? Or that you’re a liar?”
“A liar? That’s a bit much.” My head ached from when I slammed into the tree, and Cami’s drama wasn’t helping.
“You said you needed space. You said you were in a weird place. You made it seem like you needed a break, but the truth is that you’re here with these…people…who are in it with the Devil.”
“The Devil?” I scoffed. “My Lord…first of all—”
“You’re going to deny it? I saw you dancing in your circle, the chanting… I’m surprised you didn’t cut off any chicken heads and drink the blood.”
I had to laugh. “Would you listen to yourself? I am not ‘in it’ with the Devil, and neither are they. You have the wrong idea. Nobody in there does anything evil. It’s working with energy. That’s it. I can teach you about it if you want.”
“No, thanks. I’m good. Working with energy—is that a scientific fact?”
“Is God a scientific fact?” I said. “I don’t need to see God in a physics textbook to believe He’s real, Cami. That’s what faith is. The least you could do is use the same logic you apply to God to what you saw out there.”
She gestured to the faded exterior of the resort. “What I saw in there was occult, pagan, witchcraft, evil, black magic, brujería, and everything else. Super fucking irresponsible of you, Valentina, and you know it. I’m sorry but you can’t compare one of the world’s major religions to juju dancing under the moon with drugged-out squatters. It’s not the same.”
“No one’s on drugs.” Not hard ones, anyway.
“Ah. So, the juju dancing and squatters part is fine…”
“You’re being judgmental. You want to know why I left the retreat? That’s why.”
“Because of me?”
“Because of everyone’s bullshit. I’m sick of having to live up to fake standards that nobody else in the church seems to be able to live up to themselves. So damn righteous. You’re doing it now.”
“See, the important part of what you just said is that there are standards. There’s nothing wrong with standards. Standards give us something to work towards. Goals make us better people, unlike…”
“Unlike what? Who?” I crossed my arms. Wind Cami up long enough and watch her become sanctimonious.
“Forget it.” She went back to trying her phone service.
“Tell me what you were going to say. That my friends have no standards? That they’re losers? That your religion is the only correct one? Nothing outside of it matters? You’re only further proving my point, Camila.”
“My religion? Suddenly, it’s my religion? Your friends? What else is there about you that I don’t know? Just so I know who I’m talking to. Or are we back in elementary school, and it’s Opposite Day? I forgot?” She cocked her head in that condescending way she did when she got on her high horse.
I breathed calmly. “Listen, there’s a lot of misunderstanding here, and that’s partially my fault because I haven’t told you what I’ve been going through. You’re my best friend, and I should have.”
“Finally, you take responsibility.”
I held back the urge to defend myself. She was mad. She was allowed to be.
“I know what I’m doing. I’ve been studying this for the last year, okay? But it’s been a secret for this exact reason, because I knew you and everyone would go and judge me for it. There’s nothing wrong with learning something new. There’s actually some interesting concepts going on in the world of quantum physics and neuroplasticity, if you would just get to know—”
“This is because of Savannah, isn’t it?” she interrupted, a light dawning in her eyes. “I remember at the start of senior year, you showed me her Insta. I thought it was weird you were so into her feed. I told you she was a practicing witch, that it wasn’t just a goth aesthetic, that you should stay away from her. After that, you stopped showing me her pics.”
“Yes, because you said I should stay away from her. What makes you the expert on what makes a person dangerous or safe? Savannah was a nice girl. I’m sorry I never got to know her, because I was too busy listening to your holier-than-thou bullshit.”
“I’m sorry for trying to protect you!”
“I’m not yours to protect!”
We stood there, seething at each other.
“It’s the same thing with your sister,” I went on. “You talk about her like she’s so lost. What if Silvie’s life is more put-together than you think? What if being with different guys is how she figures out what she likes or who she is? What if, by doing that, she’s actually preventing her own divorce in the future?”
Cami scoffed. “This is so…”
“Trust the process, Camila. Stop trying to force everyone onto your path of perfection.”
She laughed haughtily. “I knew it was because of Savannah. The Devil works in mysterious ways.”
“Stop with that Devil crap already.” I smacked the car’s hood. “She’s part of what got me into it, but I’ve been curious for a long time. I’ve never felt 100% at home in the church. I only went to Mass because my grandfather made me, because I would see you and your family there. For me, church is a social club more than anything.”
“Okay, so your whole life’s been a lie. Our friendship has been a lie.”
“No, not our friendship, Cami. I love you.”
At that, she scoffed again, offering no “love you back.” She just turned and stared at the empty parking lot reclaimed by tall grasses sprouting all over from within its alligator skin cracks in the asphalt. “You’re just like your father.”
I bristled. “What do you mean?”
Silence.
“No, you can’t do that. You can’t just drop a package and not expect people to pick it up. What do you mean I’m just like my father?” I jabbed my face into her line of view.
She was at the end of a proverbial dark hall, turning the corner, begging me to follow. “It’s not a secret your dad wasn’t big on church. That was a huge point of contention between him and your mom. You know that. Everybody knows that. Even my parents know that…”
Ugh. Every last member of our congregation knew his lack of involvement was one of the driving forces that pushed my parents apart. Didn’t make hearing about it from my best friend any less awkward.
“My dad went to church to make my mom happy. Over time, he stopped. He wasn’t brought up religious. I never had a problem with it. It didn’t make me love him any less. What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m saying he explored. He took risks, like you say about my sister, and that wasn’t enough to prevent his splitting from your mom. You get what I’m saying?”
“No. He tried to make things work with my mom, because of me, so he could be with me and not do the every-other-weekend thing. He didn’t want to lose me. That’s why he came back to her after their first separation.”
And yet, he left after their second. I rarely saw him again.
“Vale, he came home because his side chick didn’t want him anymore. She made him choose, just like I told Silvie she should do with her boyfriend. He wanted it both ways. He chose your mom because he was already engaged to her and didn’t want to look like a huge asshole to your grandfather.”
“He wanted to follow through. How is that so horrible? Whatever you think you know, you don’t. Nobody knows the real truth about my parents, except for them. He’s not even here anymore to give his side of the story, so just stop talking about him.”
“I’m making a point about how he took risks, and here you are, taking risks.”
“What risks? Stop talking like you know something.”
She shook her head, as if I’d never understand.
“Are you talking about Macy, because she’s hal
f Black, because her mother is Black? Does that somehow make my dad a ‘risktaker?’” I had to laugh. “What year is it again? Don’t be racist, Cami.”
“Don’t call me a fucking racist, Valentina.”
“Then don’t suggest he was with her because he was a risk-taker. He was obviously in love with her. That’s why he was with her.”
“I’m saying he took a social risk. He wasn’t afraid of the consequences, and you’re rebellious—Like him. I’m not saying it’s a good or a bad thing. I’m saying I see where you get it. Look, take me back. I’ll stay at a hotel and leave in the morning.”
“You can take my car back. I’m not leaving.”
Her stare could’ve cracked open sealed Egyptian tombs. “You want me to go back alone…in your car…after I came all this way to see you.”
“I told them I wouldn’t leave again.”
“And you don’t think I should be worried in any way that a bunch of Devil-worshippers you just met are holding you hostage inside an abandoned hotel that touched me.”
“It’s my choice to stay.”
“I see.”
“I don’t expect you to understand, but we’re trying to connect with this place psychically to see its history, figure out lost secrets. Important truths.”
“You’re ghost-hunting, Valentina.” She laughed.
“I knew you wouldn’t get it.” I could see I wasn’t going to teach her anything. “If I go, I disrupt the flow. Take my car.”
She stared at me in disbelief. What she was thinking was anybody’s guess, but it was safe to say our friendship would probably be over after this. It would take a huge effort on Camila’s part to understand that she wasn’t the center of my universe anymore.
“It’s funny…” She fake-smiled. “You talk about Antoni like what he did to you was so horrible. But look at you, messing with the spirit world when the Bible forbids it. What you’re doing is a hundred times worse.”
“Worse than what? Than a guy everyone thought was so devout taking advantage of me inside a nasty bathroom?” My chest felt like it was going to explode.
“He didn’t take advantage of you. He barely kissed you then took care of himself in the sink. If anything, he avoided touching you. You should be grateful.”
“Grateful??”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Months of unspoken resentment overflowed into the valley between us.
“That’s how you feel?”
“It is.” She shrugged. “Sorry I didn’t tell you before. I didn’t think you’d understand. Have fun with your coven.” She opened the car door and slipped inside.
“Wow.” So, this was how our friendship ended, with a sanctimonious remark instead of a peaceful parting of ways. My best friend, who should’ve been on my side, should’ve sympathized with me after that incident, sat there, smugly ignoring me.
“Also, you lied about Antoni,” she said, turning on the engine and starting to drive away. “Everyone knows he’s gay.”
NINETEEN
Tears came rough, complete with uncontrollable sobbing. I sat on the floor of the ballroom with Wilky, Mori, and Fae around me. Crow, too, keeping a mistrustful watch from a distance.
A fight between Cami and me was bound to happen, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept. We’d been growing apart for a year, and though I took full blame for not telling her my feelings, she made it difficult to share.
As for Antoni—I knew. My hands had told me that same day. As if a gay guy couldn’t still have a sexual experience with a girl, now I looked like a huge liar. But it did happen. I was there. So, fuck Cami.
Mori gently tucked strands of my hair behind my ear. “Friends break up all the time. It’s okay. Sometimes they come back. If they love you, they’ll learn to grow with you.”
“Sometimes they don’t, though. Come back,” Fae added, scratching a bit of caked mud off my knee. “They can’t handle your awesomeness, which is more than okay.”
Looking into all their eyes, I felt so grateful to have them here with me, yet I couldn’t shake the guilt that I’d traded one set of friends for another.
I’d have to let Cami go, for now. I wasn’t about to run after her. Wilky rested his hand, palm up, on my knee, an imploring, hopeful gaze in his eyes. I slid my hand into his, eager for a connection, when my vision darkened, and unfamiliar images began to slide through my mind—a young boy with auburn hair and light skin spitting in my face, calling me racist names. My heart hurt for her.
I let go of his hand.
“What?” he said.
“What just happened?” Mori looked at Wilky, then at me.
“Nothing.” Whatever it was, it was personal, plus I had no right to see inside anyone’s head without their permission. I grabbed my cross. My little starshine, sleep, oh, so tight
“Get rid of that,” Crow said darkly from his spot in the corner, smoke curling around him
“No.” I cut quickly, glaring at him to the surprise of the others. “It’s the only thing I have left of my father’s.”
“What it represents caused you immense pain today. Today, your whole life, for that matter. Leave it. You’ll feel better.” His eyes cut through me, intimidating me, but I would not back down—not to Crow or anybody. I was tired of his bullshit.
“Crow,” Mori said. “Stop being a dick.”
“What, it’s true. None of what went on between her and her so-called friend would’ve happened if it weren’t for everything that bauble symbolizes.”
“It reminds her of her dad,” Fae said. “Are you even listening?”
“I don’t care. It’s the complete opposite of the work we do here. It’s offensive to me; it should be to you all, too.” He stood, picking up his camera to check the settings.
“It’s just a fucking charm,” Wilky muttered.
“It’s holding her back. She needs to pick a side. You all do.” He stomped away, pushed out the veranda door, which strained heavily under its weight.
“I don’t need to pick a side,” I said to myself. “I’m sorry about what happened to him when he was a kid, but not all churches are the same. Not all parents or Christians are either.”
“I guess Crow told you what happened to him?” Mori muttered.
“Yeah.”
“Be nice to Vale!” Fae told Crow through a broken window. “She helped us!”
A urinal leaked and dripped, the sound echoing across the tiles. Another was cracked like the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold adhesive. Blue light shone through the cracks, rays emanating from within, growing brighter with every pulse.
Antoni stood at the sink, back to me. His right elbow shook, his head tilted back.
His groans were low and prolonged.
The cracks changed to a greenish-yellow color. Then blinding yellow.
I shielded my eyes to protect them. When I reopened them, Antoni’s face was an inch from mine. It’s true what they say about you. You’re a bitch.
I’m not.
You are. Look what you made me do. He was gripping himself. I looked away.
You’re confused, Antoni. That’s why you pulled away. That’s why you took me to the bathroom in the first place—to “try” me out.
He hissed like a threatened tomcat. I could smell his rancid breath on my cheek. You kept pulling from me, he said, his hand jerking on himself faster now. Why?
Because of my hands. My hands see things! Goddammit, Antoni, leave me alone. Why was he putting me through this? Wasn’t it enough he’d used me, even though I clearly refused to touch him?
Fuck you, Vale. His hand moved faster and faster, his eyes began to close.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t leave this situation. I was stuck in the dream, being forced to watch him climax. I looked for an escape route. Beads of sweat formed on Antoni’s brow line, as he worked toward his end, and tears stung my eyes. I was frozen in place.
Antoni’s open mouth grew wider, taller. BIIIITCH! The word morphed
into an O, and his voice dropped several octaves, a black gaping maw filling my view. His body stretched tall, taller than the ceiling, which dissolved, replaced by a dark sky where a partially eclipsed burnt orange moon created the illusion of a halo around his head.
Nobody will believe you, he said.
Don’t listen, someone else spoke, someone not Antoni, who was still screaming, the walls of the bathroom shaking with his entitled rage. Truth always comes to light.
Oversized Antoni fell to his knees to better screech into my face, wind from his cavernous mouth assaulting me. I covered my ears and closed my eyes, begging myself to wake up. Bitterness boiled through me, that this situation still haunted me, that he was still pinning blame on me, that my subconscious was still holding on. The more time I spent at the Sunlake, the more I felt it—rage. Rage for the fucked-up values fed to me, rage over Cami’s attitude, rage over Antoni taking up space rent-free in my brain. Rage I’d held in for so long.
I couldn’t get away from Antoni’s screaming. My muscles seized. All I could do was let his fury come at me. Forcing myself to move, I gave it everything I had and hurled my body upwards to dislodge the sleep paralysis.
Come onnnn… My eyes opened.
A swirling dark mass hovered over me. I gasped, sitting up and shoving my back against the wall. The dark cloud floated closer, curious. Somehow I felt its intelligence. Its consciousness. Whatever it was, it wanted my feelings, all my anger—as fuel. A hole formed in the middle of the mass, widening like the aperture of a camera lens, making space for what I quickly realized was me.
Come in.
“Go away,” I whispered.
There was a shift in energy. Something approached from behind it, through it, something alive. It emitted hot breath, and the cloud’s focus transferred off me onto whatever it was. Finally, I could make out the shape of a dog—a wolf, my wolf—stalking in the gloom. He moved decisively, one paw at a time, closer to the cloud. Lobo lifted his gums and bared yellowed, plaque-filled teeth, snarling at the churning mass.
The formless fog spun like a slow-moving tornado, floated into the center of the ballroom, making the chandelier’s suspended crystals tinkle, and disappeared. I gripped the wall behind me, my lungs pumping breaths of air like they were my last.