By Dark

by T Thorn Coyle

Even his recent crisis of conscience about his work could be seen as an upper middle class person—wealthy, even, though not billionaire or even millionaire status—throwing a tantrum about wanting more meaning in his life.

  Except he did. He did want more meaning in his life. And maybe that was an insult to every day laborer or Walmart worker not even scraping by. And maybe that was an insult to his coven, and his friends. And to Shekinah. Who knew he’d been avoiding her.

  “Fuck.”

  ::Grow an espina, nieto.::

  “And how do I do that? Didn’t I take care of madre those last five years of her life? Don’t I care for Catarina’s children? Doesn’t all of that require a spine?”

  The ancestors were silent, but he heard their answer anyway.

  All that is in the past. What are you doing now?

  The trouble was, he truly had no idea.

  All of a sudden, he was filled with a longing to see Shekinah. To hear her voice. He’d really been messing up with her lately, but he’d just been so damn messed up! Buttoned down, responsible Alejandro had been acting like a prick.

  He picked up his phone from the breakfast bar and hit dial without even texting to make sure she would be there. She was always there. Should just about be finishing her morning spiritual practices, as a matter of fact. Or would she be in the middle of them? The phone rang in his ear. He pressed end before voice mail kicked in and glanced out the window, squinting at the morning sun. He honestly didn’t know the answer to the question of what Shekinah would be doing in that moment, and after five years, he should, whether they lived together or not.

  And wasn’t that a sticking point recently?

  “Way to go, man. The ancestors are right. You need to get off your ass, stop wallowing, and grow a spine.”

  Staring at the photos on the breakfast bar, he at least knew how to start. He would go for a run. Check in with Shekinah. Maybe do some shopping for a new ofrenda table and frames for the photos that needed them.

  And after Raquel got off work? He needed to talk with her. He needed spiritual counsel and the high priestesses of his coven was the place he needed to get it. Brenda would go too easy on him right now. But Raquel? If he needed her to? She’d totally kick his ass.

  He grimaced at the thought, then went to put on his running shoes.

  Sound body, sound mind.

  Thanks, ancestors. Thanks a lot.

  He didn’t know himself whether those words were sincere, or sarcastic.

  6

  Shekinah

  “I can’t. It’s just… Sit down?” Tish said.

  “Yes. Of course!” Shekinah had never seen her friend this way.

  “Is there coffee?”

  Shekinah glanced at Patrick.

  “On it,” he said, and padded to the kitchen. Shekinah followed suit. The bright space would be good for Tish. Better than the north-facing living room that remained slightly cluttered, no matter how much she and Patrick cleaned.

  She steered her friend into the white and yellow space. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and the round wood table with four mismatched, white wood chairs was illuminated in the center of the white-tiled room.

  “Here. Let’s get your coat off.” She helped Tish out of the red coat, slung it on one of the chairs, and then tugged at Tish’s hand until the woman sat. Patrick had poured the two coffees and switched on the electric kettle for Shekinah.

  “What do you take in your coffee?” he asked, as Shekinah poured rose hips and dried nettles into a small pot.

  “Just some milk if you have it.”

  “Coconut okay?”

  Tish nodded. She looked startled now, as if she was regretting coming. As if she wanted to run away.

  “Don’t forget to breathe, Tish.”

  Tish nodded again and took in a shuddering breath. Shekinah watched her friend will herself to exhale, slowly, trying to tap into the practice. Good.

  Shekinah poured steaming water into the pot and got a yellow mug down from the pantry. Giving Tish some time to gather herself. She carried pot and cup to the table just as Patrick set a mug of coffee in front of Tish.

  “I’ve got to get ready for work,” he said, gathering up his own mug. Shekinah knew that wasn’t true. He always made himself breakfast and sat at the table for at least half an hour before getting ready. She had totally encroached on his space by bringing Tish into the kitchen. She couldn’t regret it, though. It still felt like the right thing to do.

  Thank you, she mouthed at Patrick. He gave an of course shrug and was out the door and up the stairs, probably going to drink his coffee in the comfy chair in his bedroom before getting dressed to go out to breakfast and then off to work at the garden store. She herself had clients today, but her first conference call wasn’t until eleven. Plenty of time to talk to Tish and do the last-minute prep on her presentation. At least she hoped so.

  Shekinah sat with her tea and straightened her spine, allowing her breath to flow in and out at a steady, even pace. Just as Yogi Basu’s presence helped her, she could let her presence help Tish.

  Tish clutched at her coffee mug, staring past the kitchen sink out the window. It didn’t look as if she saw anything at all. Or nothing outside herself, at any rate.

  “Tish? I’m here.”

  Tish inhaled sharply, shuddered, and turned those dark, sorrowful eyes Shekinah’s way.

  “My brother…”

  Shekinah sat, one hand on her friend’s arm, waiting.

  Tish just shook her head. Gulped down some coffee. Set the mug back down.

  “Your brother?”

  Tish held her head in her hands and wept, shoulders shaking. Shekinah laid a hand on Tish’s back, one hand over her own heart, re-centered herself, and breathed. In through the nose, as slowly as possible. Then holding the breath, suspended in the chest. Light as the air it was. Then out through the nose, as slowly as possible. Holding spaciousness. Open. Filled with the light of the sun. As she breathed, she felt her friend calm slightly beneath her hand, struggling to match the cadence.

  “Shh. Don’t try. Let my breath soothe you. Let your breath come.”

  They sat and breathed together, until Tish was able to sit up in her chair again. Then they sat and breathed some more, coffee and tea growing cold, faces turned toward the sun.

  After what may have been ten minutes, or half an hour, Tish cleared her throat. Shekinah kept her eyes trained out the window, at the golden maple leaves getting ready to fall at the next hard rain. At the sun, shining on the golden leaves. Hand still on her heart. Breathing, steadily.

  “I’ve been having premonitions. That’s what was wrong.”

  “What kind of premonitions?”

  “Dreams, sometimes. But mostly just a bad feeling about my brother. I’ve had this sort of thing before and…I was worried sick. I tried to talk to him about it, but he just laughed it off.”

  She gave a short bark of ironic laughter. “Said it was my woo woo hippie shit, and to keep it to myself.”

  Shekinah removed her hands from her heart and Tish’s back. Poured some tea from the pot. Drank the grassy, tangy water. It was still warm.

  “So, what happened?” she asked. “Can you tell me now?”

  Tish took a sip of coffee. Coughed. Closed her eyes. Shekinah could see her chest rise and fall with the effort to just breathe. To not fly apart at the seams.

  Finally, finally, her friend looked at her again.

  “I had a vision in the middle of the night. So strong it woke me up…”

  Tish’s eyes darted around the kitchen, breath coming rapidly, on the verge of panic.

  “What did you see, Tish?”

  “My brother! He was dead. Lying half on a sidewalk and half in the street. It was…oh God. So terrible. I called him, and he’s fine. Told me I worry too much, but I still didn’t feel right. I waited as long as I could before calling you. But I just had to talk to someone.”

  Shekinah felt her heart stop, then start again. Prem
onitions of death couldn’t be a good thing.

  Breathe, Shekinah. Stay in the flow.

  “I’m glad you came over. Do you want to talk about the visions some more? Do you want to go upstairs and pray? What do you need?”

  “I don’t know. Do you know anything about visions? Do you think I should talk to Yogi Basu?”

  “Talking to Yogi Basu is probably a good idea. But…” Shekinah knew who she needed to talk with. “You know my Alejandro is a witch, right? If anyone in Portland knows what to do about visions, it’s his coven. Do I have your permission to ask?”

  Tish nodded, then pushed her chair away from the table, and started to rise. “That’d be great. Thanks. But I should…I should let you get to work.”

  “Wait,” Shekinah said. “Just rest here. Let me fix you some food. Another thirty minutes isn’t going to kill anyone.” She winced when she realized what she’d said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  Tish just shook her head. “Thanks, but, I’ve gotta get back.”

  7

  Alejandro

  In the middle of Alejandro’s run, Shekinah had called, saying she needed to see him, as soon as he could get there.

  He stopped back at the condo for a five-minute shower and was at her place fifteen minutes later, where he found her pacing in the living room that always drove him slightly crazy. It was stuffed with books and plants and furniture, bright, cheery, and what some people would call welcoming. To him it felt smothering.

  Stopping cold in the entryway, door hanging open behind him, he realized why. It reminded him of all the days he spent at his mother’s house during the last years leading up to her death. All of that happened right before he met Shekinah. His mother’s place had the same, clean and tidy but overstuffed and welcoming feel to it. But in his mind, it was coupled with the scent of acute illness and antiseptic cleaner. Gone were the days when Madre’s home smelled of cinnamon and taco meat, or the hibiscus tea she drank all winter.

  Shekinah drank those kinds of teas.

  He loved Shekinah. He loved his madre. And sometimes he just needed some space. Quiet. Order. Shekinah wasn’t always…orderly.

  “You’re here!” Shekinah turned and saw him, hair swirling around her, and her face lighting with a brief smile before closing down into worry.

  He shut the door and turned back to her. His love. His partner. His steady rock. Her long, ash-blond hair was shot with delicate strands of silver, and her long nose with its slightly crooked tip perched above her lips tinted with the cranberry lip balm she always wore. She still wore the white loose pants and tunic that were what he thought of as her “spiritual clothes.” What had happened to interrupt her meditations?

  He opened his arms and she walked into his embrace. As he held and rocked her, he breathed in the scent of her. That Nag Champa incense she liked to burn. And something green that he couldn’t place. One of her teas. As weird as things were for him right now, she still felt like home inside his arms.

  “I called you earlier, but figured you were doing yoga,” he murmured into her hair. It smelled of rosewater, and, strong as her body was, today she felt fragile.

  “You did? I thought Tish had just called twice. I didn’t even check.” She pulled back and looked at him. “What were you calling for?”

  “I missed you. Just wanted to check in. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “Yes. No. Of course.”

  She was never like this, his Shekinah. Flustered. Unable to speak. And lately, he’d been the messed-up one.

  “Here. Let’s sit down.”

  “No. I need to move. To walk.”

  He waited while she put on shoes and grabbed her coat, then they were out the door, walking down the tree-lined concrete path to the sidewalk. She tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow as they fell into step.

  “Did something happen to your sister, Laura? Your family?”

  She shook her head. “No. Laura’s fine. She’s still on that research trip in Florida. And I haven’t heard from my family in a few months. It’s my friend Tish, from the Center.”

  He remembered Tish, a younger Black woman with bright eyes. Vivacious.

  “Is she hurt?”

  “She’s been having visions. Strong ones. This morning she had a vision that her brother was dead. Shot.”

  He stopped on the sidewalk and a woman walking her dogs jerked their leashes, trying to keep the excited Labradors from running him over.

  “Sorry,” he said to the woman, who didn’t reply, just scowled and moved past, leashes jingling. “What happened?”

  “She wasn’t sure, but it was clear the vision terrified her.”

  The wind left his lungs. “How old is he?”

  “Twenty? Twenty-two? I don’t know. College age. Young.”

  Shekinah tugged at his arm. They continued down the sidewalk, past bright red Japanese maples and bare magnolias. He had often wondered what it would be like to move to Shekinah’s neighborhood. Buy an old Craftsman or Victorian of their own. Fix it up. Maybe foster a kid or two. That had been last year’s dream, before he started to question every damn aspect of his life.

  Something pinged at the back of Alejandro’s skull. The ghost of a memory. A reminder. But of what?

  “Can you check with your coven? Think maybe they can help her? I told her to talk to our teacher, but figured you all might know more about visions.”

  “I’m happy to ask the coven, and to talk with Tish myself. But has she had premonitions before? Is she clairvoyant?”

  “I honestly don’t know. She’s never talked about it before. All I know is something’s been bugging her for weeks now, and this morning she showed up, panicking, at my door.” She squeezed his arm. “Thanks for saying you’ll help. I appreciate it.”

  It was nice being thanked, but Alejandro had to admit it stung a little that she wouldn’t have just assumed he’d agree. Had they grown that distant recently? Really?

  They were coming up on the intersection where Shekinah’s street met a small commercial section. He smelled coffee roasting and his stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten yet. He bet Shekinah hadn’t, either.

  “Can I buy you breakfast? Do you have a client waiting? Or can you cancel today?”

  She paused and pushed up her coat sleeve to check her wearable. “I don’t have a client for another two hours. God, it’s only nine o’clock and it feels like I’ve already had a full day!” She looked up at him, and her dark, beautiful eyes still looked worried. He wished he could wipe that away for her. Carry the burden, somehow. But that’s what being human was, wasn’t it? Feeling pain and joy, and sharing both, as best as you could.

  That’s what his ancestors did.

  They turned the corner and he steered her toward the coffee shop, grateful it was a weekday, so there shouldn’t be a line. It was nice just walking with her. He really hadn’t been spending the kind of time he should with her. They needed to get out more. See things. Do things.

  The way they used to, before his crisis started.

  “Hey,” he said. “You asked me about Tish, but is there something you need from me? Some more support? I know lately…”

  She stopped this time, and cupped one cold hand against his cheek. “This. What we’re doing now. Walking. Talking. Going to eat some food. I just…I’ve been missing you, Alejandro. You went away and I’m not sure where, and I wasn’t sure when you’d be coming back.”

  Shit.

  “I know. I’m still…trying to figure things out. And I don’t know how long it’s going to take. But I’m here now, and I’ll keep trying to be. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she replied, and pulled the coffee shop door open, releasing the scent of coffee, cinnamon, and baking waffle batter.

  He watched her go through, feeling half sad and still uneasy. That ghost of a memory wouldn’t leave him, even though no new information had arrived. Maybe Raquel could help him with it.

  Shekinah turned and motioned him in
side. He nodded and followed her, slipping an arm around her waist as they waited for someone to come lead them to an open table.

  No matter what was going on with him, he vowed to be there for his partner. And he remembered what he’d said to Charlie. About that thing that was coming.

  He shook his head.

  He hoped it wasn’t this. Wasn’t some visions about to come real. Because it felt like Tish’s visions were only one small part of a wave that was going to crash over them all.

  8

  Shekinah

  It was early evening, and she lay in bed with Maureen, aka Mo. The sex had been hotter than the last couple of times they were together. Maybe they were just due for a super-hot romp, or maybe they both needed to work off some steam. They lay on Shekinah’s big queen bed, legs still tangled, sheets a sweaty mess. Shekinah’s fingers played with her lover’s short brown hair, staring absently, eyes shifting from the pale yellow walls to the bright painting of sunrise over the Columbia River that hung above a long walnut dresser.

  Shekinah was grateful for the simple connection she had with the other woman. Maureen was just good. Not demanding. Stable. Happy to spend time together, and then go off and do her own thing. Maureen was fifty-three to Shekinah’s forty-three, had raised three kids, and lived with her semi-retired husband who ran fishing boats on the coast during season. They’d had an open relationship their entire time together. Twenty years. That seemed amazing to Shekinah. Mo had told her there were years when the kids needed more from them that they had taken breaks from seeing other people, but eventually, their natural polyamorous states surged forward again. They’d mostly had light flings. Shekinah was Maureen’s most steady girlfriend in some time.

  She never spent the night, but was steady as clockwork, every week except if one of them was sick.

  Maureen was a nice break from the current mild drama in her relationship with Alejandro. A nice break from worrying about Tish, too.