Nadia says that we must keep our gifts a secret because way back in the day, missionaries called them demonic and tried to beat them out of our ancestors. Which, valid. I can see her reasoning on that.
From what I’ve been reading, though, our Indigenous ancestors interacted with this world in ways that colonizers would call evil, or uncivilized, or superstitious, or any combination of these. Seems to me, colonizers havelong, long ago closed themselves off to magic. They insist that everything in the Land of the Living can be explained by some kind of dogmatism, rooted in religion or science, whatever dogma they’re into at the moment. And so they refuse to see the world as it is, full of old,wildmagic.
And when they hear us talking about old, wild magic? It’s just misguided superstition! When they happen to get a glimpse of that old, wild magic? It’s the work of demons!
What an insanely sad way to live, you know? Where you have to reject the most beautiful things about this life for no reason other than an inherited, cultural fear of What Cannot Be Fully Known.
Because of the violence of colonization, I no longer know our ancestral tribes. I do not know who we were, before the lands of our people became Mexico and then Texas.
But what I do know for certain? The magic of my ancestors still exists, inside all of our bodies.
It’s not a punishment from the old gods. It’s an act of resistance against the new gods.
Sage’s gift is plants. Teal’s is the weather. Nadia’s gift is psychic abilities, and my grandmother, Amá Sonya, can see ghosts.
But animals are my gift, and that’s why I can sense so deeply the emotion of this beautiful, sweet whale…the loneliness of swimming, and calling, and calling, with no one answering. No one coming around to see you. To be unseen, even though you are right there, screaming at the top of your strong whale lungs.
This song is the song of ghosts. I would know. I would know.
Instead of typing up that dissertation, I keep my response short.Beautiful and haunting.
Yesis all he writes back.
I try to think of something fascinating to share with him. To move him the way he’s already moved me. But instead, my phone chirps and a text pops up from Anise.A strapping young man is here to see you.She adds the eyes emoji, which I know now, after studying an online emoji dictionary after returning to the Land of the Living, indicates her intrigue.
I stare at the message with an extraordinarily confused expression on my face. Who the hell would ever come to seeme? Especially here at work?
I immediately think of Grayson Baker and everyone who was in on the Antlered Vagina Prank. Would they really try something just as horrific here, at my job? In front of Anise? I rack my brain, feeling like my thoughts have become a jumble just as disorderly as the labyrinth of shelves and books in the basement—but I can’t think of anyone else who’d come to see me, unless they were delivering food. Which I hadn’t even ordered yet, thanks to @tryingsomethingnew and his distractions.
I take the stairs instead of the elevator, darting around the shelves to spy on whoever he is before he spots me. I blink when he finally comes into view. It’s Adam.
He’s got on gray jeans paired with a navy Henley, the sleevesrolled up to reveal his veined, thick forearms. A simple leather rucksack the color of toasted pistachios is slung over one shoulder. Black Vans adorn his feet.
The outfit is simple. I would even say a bit uninspired. But he’s a beautiful man, so it doesn’t matter what he’s wearing. His angled, wide face breaks into a stunning smile at something Anise says, and even from here I can see how his blue eyes twinkle like an artist used the same shade to paint a cloudless desert sky or something. He’s fresh-shaved and I think he’s even had a trim since I’ve last seen him, the golden red hair on the top of his head just a bit longer than the sides and back.
He glances around and spots me, instantly double-taking. He’s kind enough to not ask why I’m hidden behind a shelf, peeking at him like a creeper. “There you are.”
I walk over from my spying spot, as casual as I can pretend to be. “Hi. What are…you…doing here?” I don’t mean to make it sound like I’ve never put words together to form a question before, but my brain has shut down sometime between me being afraid I’m about to be horrifically pranked at work and realizing it’s Adam who’s here to see me.
He shrugs and gives me a slow smile. “It’s lunchtime. Anise was just telling me you haven’t taken your break yet.”
“Oh.” It’s all I can think of to say. Is he…asking me to lunch? Anise raises her eyebrows at me, likeAre you seriously going to hesitate on going out with him?I can’t help but hesitate, though. He didn’t ask me out, is the thing, he just made a few factual statements. How can I infer lunch date intentions if he doesn’t actually say those words? Also, although I understand he and I did make an agreement to become illusory friends, this feels a bit sudden. I figured at some point, he and I would sit down witha planner and schedule some Cranberry appearances. Not…this.
I ignore her expression. “Well, I’m working, so—”
I’m not really sure how I was planning on ending that sentence, but luckily Anise doesn’t let me finish. “Why don’t you let this fine young man feed you, Sky? I’ll steer the ship while you’re away.”
I swallow. “But—the ship doesn’t really need to be steered, does it? What if you, you know, joined…”
She shakes her head and raises her eyebrows, stopping my question without saying a single word. I suspect I’m missing a joke here, but I am much too socially awkward to figure it out with the time frame I’m dealing with. In an ideal world, I’d get at least ten minutes after every conversation to go over everything everyone said a few times, making sure I didn’t miss something integral. Like jokes. But unfortunately, no one seems to have time for the introspection I require. Regardless, Anise isn’t going to let up on this. I can tell by the exasperated look on her face. So I say to Adam, “Well, okay, but I only have an hour.”
“Hour and a half,” Anise amends. When I give her a look of complete confusion, she says, “I’m the boss and that’s the rule. Some days you get lunch and a half. So go, shoo. Be cute together, somewhere else.”
And just like that, my boss forces me to go out on my first friendship outing with Adam Noemi.
10
I am currently sitting onthe passenger side of Adam’s black Jeep, watching the town whip by in lines of green-gold, cerulean blue, and the bright white of clouds as he pretty much small-talks his face off.
