By Dark

by T Thorn Coyle

  This, at least, was one thing in her life she could control. How to tell other people who she was.

  The rest would wait.

  She reached across the table and squeezed her lover’s hand.

  “Thanks, Mo.”

  11

  Alejandro

  Catarina was picking up the kids from Owlbear, and Raquel had left, saying she wanted to enjoy an hour at home alone before Zion got back. Alejandro should probably get home himself, start working on the ofrenda, but he wasn’t in the mood.

  He felt restless. Wanting to either call up a friend to bullshit and drink with, maybe play a round of poker, or…his eyes returned to the bar, where the snack was still bartending.

  Taking his empty glass up to the long sweep of the bar, Alejandro settled into one of the empty leather-backed swivel stools. He bet the place was packed on weekends, but smack in the middle of the week, it was half empty.

  “Need to settle up?” the bartender asked.

  “I think I’d like another,” Alejandro said. “Do you have a favorite local gin?”

  “There are a few I like, but since you already had a classic, why don’t you try this one?” He turned and reached a deco-looking bottle down off the shelf. “Aviation. It’s lighter on the juniper than most, so it tastes lighter. Smoother.”

  “Great. I’ll try it.”

  “With soda? Or do you want a martini?”

  “Martini. Extra olive, please.”

  “You got it.” There was that smile again. Damn. Too young for you, Alejandro. Reminding himself of the guy’s age wasn’t making him any less appealing, even though it should. Plus, he hadn’t exactly been paying good attention to his partner lately. Did he really have the bandwidth for this?

  Maybe not. But sometimes that’s how poly worked. You were in a slump, and a little fresh excitement came your way, pumping more love and lust back into your long-term relationship. It wasn’t that you were using the new person, it was that the extra endorphins spilled over onto everyone involved.

  Besides, it was just a little harmless flirtation. Right? No way this guy was going to be actually interested.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Thomas,” the bartender replied, sliding the martini glass onto a coaster in front of Alejandro. A light sheen of Vermouth covered the surface, and two of the olives were submerged just beneath the surface, the third hanging out near the edge of the glass. The hairs over Thomas’s tattoos were pale blond. Barely there. The tattoos themselves were a riot of color. One arm sported a variety of flowers, a hummingbird, and bees darting here and there. The other arm was filled with fruits and vegetables, eggplant, tomatoes, and what looked like rainbow chard.

  “You’re either a gardener or a cook,” Alejandro remarked.

  “What? Oh. My arms. Yeah. I love both, actually. I was all set to attend culinary school when the money ran out. I’m taking some time off to sock some cash away.”

  “Do they offer scholarships to culinary school?”

  “Are you kidding me? No. And I had some other expenses come up…sorry. Don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Excuse me.” Thomas turned and walked to the other end of the bar.

  Abrupt. Maybe he wasn’t interested in flirting. That was okay, Alejandro got it. The guy was at work and was paid to be nice to people. Alejandro knew better than to flirt with people at their workplace. It wasn’t fair.

  He watched Thomas talk to a bearded man around Alejandro’s age, in black jeans, a white shirt, and more tats who’d come out of the swinging kitchen door. Thomas nodded, then turned to take the orders of a couple who’d sidled up to the end of the bar. It wasn’t busy, which worked to Alejandro’s advantage. Maybe Thomas would be back.

  And maybe you should give him a break. He’s at work, asshole. Cassie and Selene would have your head for harassing the poor guy.

  Maybe that was part of his midlife crisis. He was turning into one of those middle-aged assholes so desperate for attention they’d hit on people they shouldn’t. Vulnerable people. People just trying to get through their workday. People waitressing or tending bar. Airline attendants. He’d always had contempt for those people, and yet, here he was.

  Alejandro sipped at the drink. The bartender was right. It was the smoothest martini he’d ever tasted. His phone buzzed.

  It was a text from Raquel. Go home, you idiot. I know you’re still there.

  Busted, he texted back. But I’m not going anywhere. He probably was going directly home after this martini, and going home alone, but he didn’t have to let Raquel know that.

  She sent back a middle finger emoji and he laughed. It was nice having a spiritual family that could have your back and gave you shit at the same time.

  “Your boyfriend?”

  Alejandro looked up. “What?”

  “The text. I’m being nosy.” There was that smile again. And Thomas had a spray of freckles across his cheeks. Damn.

  “No boyfriend. I do have a partner, but we’re open.”

  Thomas wiped down some condensation from the bar. “That’s what they all say.”

  Alejandro shrugged. He was used to this conversation. “I don’t blame you for not believing me. But Shekinah and I have been together five years and haven’t been monogamous for any of it.”

  And hopefully they’d last another five, or more. If she was willing to put up with him.

  “Huh. That’s cool. Does that mean I can see you again?”

  Well. This situation had moved quickly. Maybe he wasn’t an old creep after all. Or not just an old creep.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Hey, sorry about before,” Thomas said. “I overshare sometimes, and then, you know…”

  “Not a problem. I know you’re working. Speaking of, what time are you off?”

  “Dan, the owner, just told me I could take off early because we’re slow. So another half hour?”

  “Sounds great,” Alejandro said.

  And it did sound great. Whether they went for a drive, or a walk…or back to his place to make out, it really was great.

  No matter what else was going on in his life, it felt good to be wanted by a handsome young man. He’d been so lost in his shit lately, he didn’t even realize he missed that.

  The ego knows what it wants, even when the mind is clueless.

  12

  Shekinah

  Shekinah sat at her desk, attempting to concentrate. Morning light streamed through the windows. The day had dawned clear and bright, though she knew the air outside would be chilly, and more rain was forecast to be on the way.

  Maureen had woken up way too early and kissed Shekinah goodbye. She tried to get back to sleep but gave up after fifteen minutes. Her brain was too wired to drift off again, so she got up, showered, did her morning prayers and practices, brewed some tea, and settled into work.

  At least, that was the plan. But her mind kept returning to Tish’s ravaged face, and the phone call she was going to make to Yogi Basu once the hour ticked over to something more reasonable.

  Oh, her teacher would be awake, but disturbing anyone’s morning still felt like a violation.

  She sighed. She had so much work to do and a super-full day ahead. This design was tricky, and the client was even trickier. She really needed to be at home all day, working. But she’d agreed to meet Alejandro at his place for lunch. They needed to talk before they met with Raquel and Tish that evening and she knew it, though the timing wasn’t great. There was too much left unsaid right now to talk of other things, but no time to address any of the elephants currently dancing around between them.

  Besides, when was the timing ever good for those sorts of conversations? Shekinah had never been one of those people who loved endless relationship processing, and Alejandro was downright avoidant.

  She stood and stretched, feeling annoyed with the whole situation, and mildly disgusted with herself. She couldn’t help but think she should be doing better about all of this, but instead, she ke
pt tying and retying the same old knots.

  “I have got to work up some steam on this project. Come to think of it…”

  She looked at the small statue of Ganesha, took out a cone of incense, lit it, and set it in the dish at his feet. Then, centering herself, Shekinah took out her wooden mala, and began to chant, the mala beads slipping smoothly past her fingers.

  “Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha. Om Vignanaashnay Namah. Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha. Om Vignanaashnay Namah…”

  Surrounded by the scent of incense and warmed by the shaft of sun, she chanted until the air around her sparkled and she felt clear and strong inside.

  Finished, she bowed to Lord Ganesha, set her mala down, and turned once more to her desk.

  Shaking out her hands, she sat back down.

  13

  Alejandro

  He was dreaming. Dreams of dust and fire. Of shotgun blasts in dry, summer air. Of wind moving through trees tinged with red and gold, announcing the arrival of autumn. He dreamed of cows stampeding. Of weathered faces. And of brown hands, passing a wooden shuttle over and under, pulling the threads tight.

  Forming a pattern.

  Alejandro woke to a firm bed beneath him, cheek cradled in an equally firm pillow. He groaned and blinked his eyes. A weak shaft of gray light sliced the room. He must not have closed the blackout curtains very tightly last night. After…

  Very gently, slowly, he rolled onto his back and turned his head. A pale form softly slept next to him on the bed, one arm thrown back, head half turned away from the shaft of light. Thomas had thrown the black comforter half off himself, and he slept, naked, pale pink scars just visible below his pectoral muscles, showing the place where breasts had been.

  Last night, when Thomas had swept his white undershirt over his head, Alejandro had felt honored that the young man would trust his surgery scars to someone he didn’t even know. It must have shown on his face, because Thomas had just shrugged and said, “This is part of who I am. Why hide it?”

  Why hide it? Had Alejandro ever been that honest about himself? To anyone? His lightly starched shirts and neatly pressed dress slacks. His designer glasses, changed out every two years. His perfect stubble, even. All of it was him, but it was also armor. An act he put on to throw the corporate movers and shakers off guard. They always expected tech whizzes to be jeans and T-shirt guys—they never expected women at all—so Alejandro dressed like the rich, successful man he was. But not in a suit. That would have been trying too hard. He kept his naturally lean body gym toned. His condo was always neat.

  Alejandro liked order. And his life was now disorderly. He had no schedule. No work to do. His long-term relationship was strained. And he’d just taken home a guy almost young enough to be his child, if he’d been the parenting type.

  Thomas was just who he was. Alejandro? He was struggling to get through the day right now.

  And wasn’t that a bitch? At least you finally admitted it. Asshole.

  He waved the voice away, and lay on his back listening to Thomas breathe. The sex had been sweet, and Alejandro hoped it happened again, but even if it didn’t, Thomas had already given him a gift. He’d made Alejandro feel alive again. Just present, in the moment, the way a balanced witch could be. Not fretting over past regrets or worrying about the future. Just in the moment, with lips on skin, the scent of a new person’s body, the occasional gasps of laughter. And then release.

  He was just about to roll over and curl up against Thomas’s body when the scent of cordite filled his nose.

  “What the—?” he whispered. The dreams. Guns firing. Closing his eyes, he saw the glint of light off a sheriff’s star. The star of authority. A badge. A symbol of order.

  Just as the witch’s star was a symbol of the flow of the natural world. Earth. Air. Fire. Water. Spirit. And the witch’s body. Arms. Legs. Head.

  Symbols. Patterns.

  The weavings. The brown hands, running coarse cream yarn through black, yellow, and red.

  Carefully, he lifted the comforter and top sheet and eased out of the bed. Toeing into his slippers, he grabbed a robe from the back of one of two gray wool club chairs that sat against the wall, flanking a sleek black gas fire. He eased the bedroom door open and walked down the dark hallway to the open common space.

  Gray morning light filled the room from the big windows lining one living room wall. He walked through the room, clicking on floor lamps, including the sculptural reading lamp, the long sweep of its metal arm dangling a silver orb above the waiting leather sling chair. The light illuminated the books and objects on the shelves. His eyes rested on a reproduction of a Michoacán sculpture. A heavy, square head with perfectly formed features. The ancestors whispered at the base of his skull, prodding him.

  “What do you want?” he asked the sculpture. It had no answer for him. But the dreams did. The tingling at the base of his skull reminded him.

  He ran a finger along the new ofrenda table he’d found at a vintage store yesterday afternoon. A tall, graceful, mid-century console with shelves above and sliding storage panels below. It fit the room perfectly, just as he knew it would, the stained teak glowing warm in the lamplight. Pleased with his purchase, he’d brought it home with the help of Cassiel’s boyfriend, Joe, and his truck before heading off to meet Raquel.

  And finding Thomas.

  He turned toward the main weaving, hanging from the westernmost wall. A stylized figure, with a triangular body, arms upraised, legs spread in a strong, geometric stance. The square face stared directly at him, eyes fuzzy where the nap of the yarn had worn over the years.

  But what called to him in the early morning light were two bright red horizontal stripes, one near the top and one near the bottom of the weaving. He’d always just thought of them as decoration, but the pinging at the base of his skull told him something different. He moved closer, looking at the tight weave of the threads. Was there a pattern here? Or was the pattern the whole small rug?

  Alejandro backed up again, trying to see the relationship the red bars had to the whole.

  “Protection,” he murmured to the silent room. Red bands, one above, one below, protecting the figure in the center, who stood, hands raised to the sky. Was that a position of power? Of summoning? Or of surrender?

  Alejandro softened his gaze, trying to see through and around the pattern. Soft focus, a magical technique used by psychics who wanted to observe more than was seen initially, on the surface. There was something…just outside the corners of his eyes. The red bars rippled, and he swore the figure moved its left hand.

  The Left Hand Path. The path of shadows. Of secrets. Some said of evil, but that was childish superstition. Both hands were needed to shape a world. The witch brought two sides together, light and dark, hot and cold, day and night. All polarity was brought into harmony by the magician or the witch.

  This was a pathway that Alejandro hadn’t walked before. It was one, he saw now, that he’d been avoiding. To embrace it meant bringing chaos into his orderly life.

  “Well, things are in chaos now, aren’t they?” To anyone else, his life probably still looked orderly, but he knew just how much he’d given up. A stack of unread emails from clients who wanted to pay him a lot of money to do what he did best. A stack of unspoken words between him and Shekinah, the love of his life. A stack of barely examined thoughts and feelings that had led him to this…impasse.

  “Alejandro?” Thomas called softly from the doorway. “Is everything okay? Should I go home?”

  Alejandro turned. Thomas’s hair was a tousled mess, and he stood there, barefoot and in his white T-shirt and black boxer briefs, looking oh so beautiful.

  What the hell am I doing? Trying to borrow a doorway back to his late twenties, when, confusing as things were, at least they were confusing for everyone around him. At least he wasn’t expected to have his life together and to know exactly what came next.

  “Hey. Hope I didn’t wake you. You’re fine. It’s fine. I just couldn’t sleep.”
He walked toward the kitchen area. “Want some coffee?”

  Thomas rubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair. “That’d be great, if you don’t mind. Can I take a shower?”

  “Of course! Clean towels and washcloths are in the cabinet. I’ll get the coffee going while you shower.”

  The younger man padded off, and Alejandro sighed.

  He looked back at the weaving, more and more certain it was about protection. But protection against what? And for whom?

  14

  Shekinah

  Shekinah navigated her Subaru through northeast Portland. The gray skies were back after yesterday’s sun, hovering over the tall trees and muffling the sounds of cars and the shriek of children as she passed a playground. It was the sort of day that usually lifted her heart, but today, being out and about brought her no joy.

  She really didn’t have time for this lunch. She’d called Yogi Basu to set up an appointment to talk after his class that evening. A class she was going to skip to meet with Tish and the others.

  Ostensibly, this lunch was to talk about Tish some more, get the lay of the land before their meeting with Raquel. But really? After chanting to Ganesha, Shekinah got some clarity about both work and Alejandro. There was no avoiding it anymore. At least, not for her. They were going to talk about their relationship. They had to. Both of them had been putting it off, trying to pretend as if everything was still at status quo. Well, it wasn’t. The easy time she’d spent with Mo only highlighted the distance with her partner.

  Every relationship was different, and that was fine, but she shouldn’t feel more intimacy with the married woman she saw once a week than she did with the man she was supposed to have a deeper commitment to. Maybe it was time to reassess. Let their relationship find a new level, and new pathway. Let some things go.