Seeing Alejandro that morning had felt good, even though they mostly talked about Tish at first, and then segued into Shekinah’s work and how Alejandro was doing not working.
They didn’t talk about their relationship at all. That conversation was coming, though. It had to, if the relationship was going to survive. And she could tell something else was bugging him, too, though she had no idea what. He’d seemed even more tense than usual.
Shekinah sighed.
“Something wrong, lover?” Mo asked.
“Just the usual. Alejandro. And I don’t really feel like talking about him right now.”
She rolled onto her side and pushed up onto one elbow, looking down at Mo’s bare, beautiful face. The short, seal-brown hair fell in a fringe over hazel eyes, and a black mole rose on one pale cheek. Shekinah loved Maureen’s square jaw. Her whole body was slightly square. Stocky, some people would call it. Strong shoulders. Big round belly. Big, square hips and ass. Shekinah always felt safe in Maureen’s arms. Sexy, too.
“Want to run away together?” she asked, teasing.
“Hank wouldn’t appreciate that, and my massage clients would have a snit.”
“Yeah. I suppose.”
“Hey.” Mo captured her gaze. “If you need to get away for a weekend or something, there’s no reason we can’t arrange that. We’ve been dating for three years now, I think we deserve a weekend away if we want one.”
Shekinah smacked a kiss onto Mo’s wide mouth. “Thanks, Moester. Maybe I’ll take you up on that. But there is something I want to run by you.”
Mo scooched up on the bed and jammed a pillow beneath her head.
“I’m listening.”
“Remember I’ve told you about my friend Tish, from the yoga center?”
Mo just nodded, and waited. A woman of few words.
“She showed up in a panic this morning, talking about visions. Scary ones. And you know, when I was listening to her, and trying to figure out how to help, I think something else was bugging me. I didn’t put it together until I was working on a project this afternoon.”
Shekinah sat up, arranged herself against some pillows at the head of the big wood bed, and started plaiting her long hair into a braid.
“Are you going to tell me about it, or keep stalling?”
“I feel weird talking about it. Like I’m full of ego, or fishing for compliments, or something.”
“Sweetie, just spit it out.”
“Why is it, when people like Tish are having visions, and there are other people at the center who’ve been practicing longer than I have…”
She fumbled open a nightstand, searching for a hair tie. Her fingers closed around the wrapped rubber and she tied off her braid.
“Why does my teacher want me to teach? There are other people who seem better qualified, you know?”
Maureen sat up, grabbed a T-shirt from the tangle at the foot of the bed, and pulled it over her head.
“Who knows why? Does it even matter? Maybe he wants to get into your pants. I know I always do.”
Shekinah shoved Mo’s shoulder.
“Okay. Seriously. He sees something in you, Shekinah. That’s obvious. And you know what? I bet a lot of other people do, too. You’ve got a…calmness about you. Like, it feels calming to be around you. I bet that’s a great quality in a teacher. Also, you’re good at explaining things. You’ve even gotten me to understand your yoga stuff, and that’s no easy task.”
Shekinah was quiet, trying to take it all in. Slow breath through her nose. Pause. Slow breath out. She tried to sense it, the thing Mo was talking about…. She felt the still pool deep inside her belly. That came from years of practice. But surely other people had that, too?
Mo tugged at the end of her braid. “Don’t overthink it. Just accept. Either you’ll decide you want to do it, or you’ll decide you won’t. Or maybe you’ll figure out you need more information. Maybe that’s what’s tripping you up.”
“Maybe. But the information I want isn’t exactly something I can just go out and get. What am I supposed to do, make an appointment, march into Yogi Basu’s office and say ‘Hey, I’m in two long-term polyamorous relationships and have no intention of giving them up. Is there a policy around that?”
Mo laughed, a bold sound that cracked a smile open on Shekinah’s face.
“That’s one way of going about it. Why not? What do you have to lose?”
Shekinah’s heart sank. Kundalini practice had truly changed her life. It was the longest, steadiest relationship she’d ever had. And more importantly, it had altered her relationship with herself. She needed the practice.
But did she need the school? It felt like it. Her heart pounded, just thinking of never walking into the center again.
“It feels like everything, Mo. It feels like I might have everything to lose.”
9
Alejandro
Raquel sat across from Alejandro, in a booth against a high back wall, padded with some sort of green bonded leather, sipping bourbon poured over one enormous rock. His drink was crisp and clear. Locally sourced gin and soda with a twist of lime. Bracing. Just what he was in the mood for. Charlie was entertaining Raquel’s son, Zion, Alejandro’s nephews, and a few friends with game night and pizza, so she had the evening off.
She’d probably planned to spend it in a bathtub with a book until he’d called her.
The fancy new cocktail lounge was close to Raquel’s work and home, so he’d driven down from his condo farther north. The place was cool, not overly pretentious, with massive glass windows that let in the last of the day’s sun as it slowly faded toward darkness. It had super-high ceilings held up by massive beams that had to be seventy years old. Plus, they had a turntable and played old vinyl. Songs Alejandro hadn’t heard in years.
Up on deck now was Public Enemy. “Fight the Power.” Always a classic.
“Thanks for seeing me.” He raised his glass. “To the Gods.”
She clinked her tumbler against his. “To the Goddesses.”
“And to Charlie, who’s taking care of the kids.”
Raquel grinned at that. “He’s turning out to be a good one, huh?”
“The fact that you found a good-looking guy that I’m willing to hang out with even though he’s never going to have sex with me? Plus, he likes tweens? You have strange, magical powers, oh sensei.”
“Shut up,” she said, still smiling, and took another sip of bourbon. “So, before the expensive snacks that you’re paying for get here, what did you want to see me about?”
Always direct, that Raquel. Which was why he wanted to talk to her. If anyone would help him get to the heart of his problems, it was her.
“It’s a bunch of stuff, actually, that may or not be connected.”
“Everything’s connected, Alejandro. We’re witches.”
He stirred his gin and soda with a glass swizzle stick and looked at the floor-to-ceiling bottle display behind the long, gleaming wood bar. The bartender engaged customers at the made-to-look-vintage leather-backed stools, expertly pouring, mixing, tasting sips with a glass straw. Maybe thirty, tops, he was petite and dapper, dressed in a button down shirt in a martini glass pattern rolled crisply up to his elbows, showing off full tattoo sleeves, and Alejandro could just eat him up. A wisp of light beard on his pale skin meant he was probably taking testosterone and seeing what might grow in. Most dapper dressers wouldn’t go around with light tufts of hair sticking out of their chins otherwise. But a trans man new to hormones? It kinda went with the territory.
He was cute. But too young. And Alejandro didn’t have time for that, did he? He felt something stir anyway. The small push of lust.
Raquel cleared her throat, pulling him back to the conversation.
“I’m not sure which thing to start with, is all I’m saying. And I can’t see the connections yet. I can barely sense them, but they’re there.”
“Remember when you first came to the coven?”
“Sure, why?” It had
been more than a decade ago. He’d met Lucy at some party and became intrigued when she said she was a witch. They thought they might try dating, but weren’t compatible that way, had ended up casual friends and before Alejandro knew it, he was petitioning to join the coven for his first year and a day.
“What was one of the first things we told you?”
He took a drink, casting his thoughts backward.
“Don’t try to start in the perfect place. Just start. We do magic from where we are, not where we think we ought to be.”
A server came with their food. Grilled jicama and asparagus. Kobe beef kebabs. Mushrooms stuffed with sorrel. It smelled amazing and looked even better.
They thanked the server and Raquel dragged a kebab onto her small white plate.
“So just start anywhere, tell me everything you can, and we’ll see what the patterns are.” She worked a piece of beef from a skewer with her fork, popped it in her mouth, and rolled her eyes. “This. Tastes. So. Good. You can buy me fancy snacks anytime.”
“First of all, there’s the situation with work. My midlife crisis or whatever it is. I’m questioning everything, wondering if my whole life has been a mistake, and wondering what in the world I’m going to do with the rest of it.”
“Do you feel you’ve done active harm with your work?”
Alejandro bit into a mushroom and shrugged as the flavors of garlic, olive oil, sorrel, and sautéed mushroom filled his mouth.
“Sometimes. As much as most people who make a lot of money. Depends on what you mean by active harm, though. I mean, I know that everyone does harm, no matter what, just by breathing. But that last client that I had to fire? That was bad. Really bad.”
“And you did something about it.”
He paused at that, took another drink.
“I guess. But maybe if I haven’t done ‘active’ harm”—he made scare quotes in the air—“have I actually helped anyone?”
“Okay, brother, it’s all fine and good to do some navel gazing, and at your age? I get that it’s time. But don’t let it veer into a pity party, because I won’t have it. You help your sister, Catarina, with her kids. You help out people in Arrow and Crescent. I know for a fact that you help keep Aiden’s soup kitchen going and partially bankroll a bunch of other small organizations. Plus, you do magic that helps, don’t you?”
“I just…”
“Is anything I said just now untrue? Do you really think all the community organizing the coven has done in the past year means nothing? And that our magic has no power? Are you questioning your witchcraft?”
Alejandro winced.
Her voice rose, getting louder, until those last words made several people turn their heads. Raquel didn’t care. She was a respected local business owner, and a witch, and didn’t care who knew. Not after the shit that had gone down in the last year.
He wished he could borrow some of her confidence.
“I’m not. At least, I don’t think I am. But that brings me to the second thing. The ancestors are on my back, and it’s not just because I haven’t built them an altar yet this year. There’s something else they want, and I can’t figure it out yet. Also, Shekinah’s friend has been having visions. Bad ones. And that feels connected somehow to what the ancestors are trying to tell me.”
Raquel put her fork down. “What kind of visions?”
“The kind where people die. Specifically, her brother, who’s a young Black man, by the way.”
“Well, shit. That’s not good. Does she have a history of clairvoyance?”
“I’m not sure. Shekinah didn’t know. But when Shekinah was telling me about it, I got a weird ping. Felt like the ancestors again.”
“If those are connected…”
He tilted his glass at her. “Everything’s connected, for a witch.”
She shooed him away.
“If those are connected, I think you’re right. This could be bad.” Raquel picked up a skewer of grilled jicama and asparagus and bit in, chewing thoughtfully.
“On the other hand, could be nothing,” he said.
“But you don’t think so.”
“I don’t. She needs to meet the coven.”
“Well, shit. I’ll see if I can set that up.”
He went to take another drink, and realized his glass was empty, and he was tempted to get another. Alejandro eyed the cute bartender. The young man looked up and smiled.
Caught ya, the bartender grinned, raising an eyebrow. His eyes were gorgeous.
Clamoring ancestors be damned, Shekinah had a date with Mo, so he might just get a little drunk tonight, and flirt with a green-eyed man too young to be interested.
Such was his current lot in life, but at least it was still interesting.
10
Shekinah
“Call him,” Mo said.
They sat at the kitchen table, illuminated only by the soft under-cabinet lighting, eating a post-sex snack of tortilla chips and a bean dip Patrick had left in the fridge with a note that read “Eat me!” on it. He must be out for the night, because Shekinah didn’t hear him in the house. Must’ve left while they were otherwise occupied.
Shekinah was in a soft, creamy robe with gold flowers woven into the design. Mo had her clothes back on, jeans and a navy shirt under a purple pullover sweater. She’d be driving back to Beaverton in another hour or so. “Home by midnight unless something important comes up” was the general rule with her husband, and they both abided by it. Probably one reason their marriage had lasted so long. They made agreements and stuck to them.
Mo did occasionally spend the night, but that was only every month or so. and that had only started when it became clear their relationship was more than a passing thing.
Mo had a glass of pale lager in front of her, while Shekinah was drinking her favorite non-tea beverage: orange bitters and sparkling water. People sometimes asked her if she missed alcohol, but she really didn’t. It was nice having a clear head, and it helped with her emotions, too. Besides, she’d do pretty much anything to help her practice, so, no alcohol it was.
Well, she’d do almost anything. Anything except give up Alejandro and Mo and the life they’d built. It was a good one. If Alejandro ever got through his current malaise and agreed to move in, they could get an old house together, maybe in this neighborhood. Patrick would have no shortage of people wanting to move into this place. It was a great deal, and he was super easy to live with. She would miss it here, but… Who was she kidding, Alejandro wasn’t moving in with her anytime soon.
“Call who?”
“Your teacher. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“He could kick me out of the center. Out of the whole organization.”
“Then he’s a putz and the school is a bigoted piece of trash.” Mo shrugged, as if she was just stating a simple truth, and took a drink of beer.
Shekinah swirled her drink in her hand, circling the liquid inside, ice cubes tinkling against glass.
“It isn’t that simple, Mo. There are cultural differences. Religious beliefs. Traditions…”
“And you mean to tell me that you, of all people, are going to buy that? What, are you just going to stop being queer all of a sudden? I don’t get you!”
Wow. She might as well have smacked Shekinah across the cheek. They almost never argued. Just didn’t have that kind of a relationship. She throttled down a flash of anger and took a breath.
“Why are you so angry?”
Mo shook her head and drank more beer. “Isn’t it obvious? Because I love you and can’t stand to see you even considering diminishing who you are. I gotta pee.”
Maureen shoved her chair back and left the room.
Shekinah drank some water, trying to cool the fire inside. She was angry and hurt, but, she realized, not at Mo. Mo was right. What the hell was she doing? What had she been doing all along, ever since the discussion of initiation and teacher training and all the rest of it came up? She’d been hiding who she truly was,
afraid her teacher would reject her.
“You’re a damn adult, Shekinah. Why are you still seeking other people’s approval?”
But seeking approval was deeply ingrained. If people didn’t approve, it meant she might be in danger. At least, that’s the way things were in her family of origin. After all these years of spiritual work, she clearly hadn’t shaken that past.
Shekinah sighed and took another drink of flavored water before rising to fill the kettle. She needed comfort. Warmth. She needed tea.
She heard Mo come back into the kitchen. Felt her behind her, then felt those strong arms around her waist. She relaxed, feeling the mild hurt of Mo’s words fade. Mo rested a cheek against her right shoulder blade and pulled Shekinah closer.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you. I just… You’re awesome, Shekinah. And if someone doesn’t see that? I think you should say fuck ’em.”
Shekinah laughed and flicked the kettle on.
“I’m not exactly going to tell my teacher to fuck off, but I take your point.” She turned in Mo’s arms. “And thanks for caring enough to get angry. I actually appreciate it. Want some tea?”
“Yeah. I probably shouldn’t finish that beer if I’m going to drive home.”
“About that… It’s not a big deal if you can’t, but do you think you could spend the night tonight? I’d like it if you could stay. Help me talk through this some more. Fall asleep together.”
Mo looked at her, questioning, then gave her a gentle kiss.
“Sure thing. Hank’s got an early start tomorrow anyway. Just let me text and let him know.”
She texted as Shekinah fixed a pot of chocolate mint tea. Then they sat back down at the table.
“So,” Mo said. “What do you need to think through?”
“How to broach the subject with Yogi Basu.”
Mo jerked her head back, surprised. “You’re actually gonna tell him?”
“Yeah. You’re right. Hiding isn’t going to help the situation, so I may as well come clean. Stop tying myself in knots about it.”
By Dark Page 4