Little Hidden Darknesses

“Alejandro, slow down! Where are we going?” I asked as we exited the alley, crossed the juncture and turned left down a road riddled with potholes and stray tufts of weeds. A wonky fence lined it on our right, enclosing what I assumed was a powerplant. Far behind us – in the other direction – lay a series of houses, the island’s designated suburbia.

Alejandro peered over his shoulder before slowing his jog to a walk. A breathy, forehead-dripping-with-sweat type of walk. His hair stood in all directions from our run, each wave bouncing as he strode. “This is a special route I take whenever I want to be alone.”

“Oh, okay. It doesn’t seem too special to me.” I nearly stepped in one of the deeper potholes – one that still contained some water, probably from recent rainfall. By swerving to the side, I realised Alejandro was still holding my hand. That his fingers still interwove with mine.

We simultaneously yanked away, he scratching behind his ear and me rubbing my palms on my jeans.

“So,” Alejandro said hastily, “what was all that about?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know,” he explained, motioning with his thumb over his shoulder, “your spat with Freya back there.”

The mere mention of her name boiled my blood.

I kicked a stone at another puddle of water, though it whizzed right past into the fence, which rattled all the way down the street to the powerplant and back. I waited for Alejandro to say something, anything to break the silence. When he didn’t, I spoke on, “Remember I told you about the fog in my room? About how I woke up with the window open?”

Alejandro nodded.

“Well, what I didn’t tell you was what happened when I got up to close the window.”

“Uh, huh?”

I licked across my front teeth, recalling last night. “I saw Branka. In the parking lot, staring at me. I knocked on the glass, but she didn’t respond. And when I wanted to confront her, I –”

“You what?” he pressed.

But I couldn’t tell Alejandro about what I saw in the mirror. Not when I myself wasn’t even sure.

“Well, I – I turned around and she was gone,” I lied.

Alejandro narrowed his eyes at me, a frown taking shape between his thick and bushy brows. I tried to blink as little as possible, to maintain eye contact for as long as considered socially acceptable – or until he looked ahead of him again while scratching his chin.

“Branka, standing in the fog? Really?”

“It was her, I’m sure.” I swallowed the rise in my voice. Whether or not he believed me, I couldn’t tell.

And this annoyed me.

We walked in silence for a bit, listening as our feet rustled across the ground. The fence faded in our wake, and we entered something of an open plain. Open, save for the remnants of long ago buildings that lay in mounds here and there, rebricks and concrete and limestone, all covered in moss. Wildflowers sprinkled the plain, all the way to the forest where their growth abruptly seized, almost as if obstructed by an invisible barrier.

A fence to keep them out.

I considered this for a while, until my thoughts became too loud and I spoke to silence them.

“What about you, then?”

Alejandro seemed surprised. “What about me?” he asked.

“Dalmatian boy?”

“Oh, that.” His eyes lowered to his feet, his jaw working. “It’s a silly nickname I got at school. You know, because of my –” He couldn’t even finish his sentence without adjusting his fringe.

“You don’t have to cover it, you know,” I said.

No reaction.

“Your vitiligo is who you are, Alejandro. You shouldn’t have to hide it. Besides, I think it’s cool.”

Alejandro seemed reluctant to believe me. He glanced sideways and our eyes met, but only for a second. “Thanks,” he said with a soft grin, “but you don’t know what it’s like to be different. To be stared at all the time. To feel alone. Even at school, where everyone knows me.”

“I’m sorry,” was all I could say.

“It’s okay,” he replied. “I’m used to it anyway.”

I rolled my tongue around in my mouth, deciding whether to tell him I did understand – that the past few weeks without my mum had been the loneliest in my life – but I decided against it. Instead, I nudged him in the side and said, “So, speaking of school ...”

“Yes?”

“Why aren’t you in it?”

“We’re on break.”

“Break? In October?” I raised a brow and slowed a little, but Alejandro turned left around a corner and I raced to catch up to him. We left the tar road for one of dirt and stone, overgrown with shrubs and enclosed by a canopy of trees. I saw an arch up ahead, and beyond it a couple hundred graves. The dirt road swivelled in between them, all the way to the church on the opposite end. Bits of the motel peeked out behind it.

“Why?” I asked after having taken it all in. “Don’t you follow the same school year as the mainland?”

“I guess not. And as to why, I’ve got no idea,” he said with a shrug. “It’s just the way it is.”

“Well, when does your break end?”

Alejandro didn’t answer straight away. When he did, though, his attention seemed far away. “Until it ends, I guess.”

While his answer left me more confused than before, I decided not to pry. We had come to a stop by the foot of a grave, a headstone decorated with purple, yellow and white flowers. A couple skulls sat lodged in the dirt, each with a used candle protruding from it.

The name on the headstone read, Fernando Perez.

I looked for his birth and death date, but a clump of grass had unfortunately grown over it.

“Your dad,” I said as though it wasn’t clear.

Alejandro shook his head. He had a curve to his stance, a type of vulnerability to him I haven’t seen before. My fingers itched to reach out, to stroke his arm or scratch his back, but I recalled how awkward things got when he had held my hand, and withheld myself.

“When did he – uh – die?” I bit my lip. Real subtle, Eira. The one question everyone wants to hear.

“Not long ago,” Alejandro replied as he bent down to adjust one of the candles that had fallen over. He dusted off the skulls and rearranged them, then muttered something in Spanish and shut his eyes. When he rose, I saw a glint in them before he blinked and it vanished.

I studied the grave, the way the headstone tilted backward a little and the soil split apart with cracks. Not long ago? The sun must be brutal, then, to leave the grave this worn.

“If it helps” I spoke on, “I know how you feel.”

“It doesn’t help, no.” Alejandro tucked his fringe away and looked up at me, for the first time with both eyes exposed. He didn’t notice. “But it’s good to know I’m not alone in this.”

A pause.

“That someone else had gone through the same thing.”

I parted my lips to tell him I agree, when his face went blank. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to the ground, right on top of his dad’s grave. A wheeze escaped my throat and he put his hand over my mouth. It smelled of dirt and whatever product he used in his hair.

“Alejandro,” I hissed when he removed his hand, “what’s going on?”

“Look for yourself. There.” He motioned in the direction of the church, and I craned my head.

A tall, slender figure rounded the building and strolled under the arch into the cemetery. She wore a black dress that flailed in the wind, and had her long, black hair in loose curls down her back.

Lilith.

“What is she doing here?” I asked, my heart suddenly pounding. Even though it was completely normal for anyone to visit a cemetery, something about her made me on edge. The last thing I wanted was to run into her here. In an isolated place, amongst the dead.

“Must be visiting her husband,” Alejandro muttered in response. We lay next to each other in the dirt, peering out from behind the skulls. Our bodies pressed together, a warmth building between us. A type of electricity, of anticipation. I chose to focus on Lilith instead.

With a swing in her stride and hum on her lips – a soft and indistinct tune, dripping with eeriness – she made down the path to a mausoleum in the distance, then vanished inside.

“Is her husband in there?” I asked.

A nod from Alejandro next to me.

“Wh – When did he die?”

“A few years ago. I still remember the funeral, as the entire town was invited, even those who hardly knew the man. I also think the All Saint’s Day Festival was cancelled that year.”

“Wow,” I breathed. “Maybe that’s it, Alejandro.”

“What is what?”

“My mum never came to any funeral. Maybe that’s why they’re lying about knowing her.”

“It’s possible,” Alejandro concurred, though somewhat uncertain. “Lilith is your mother’s sister, right?”

I shook my head. “Not according to her, though.”

“Okay, putting that aside, I guess missing your brother-in-law’s funeral could be considered a big deal.” His breath wafted in my face, warm and soft and tingly. Then, he sat up. “Whatever the case, I think we should go now. Before she returns. You don’t want to run into Lilith Vinsant by herself. After Branka, I’d consider her the scariest of them all.”

“Last night you said Branka was only second scariest,” I contested.

Alejandro blushed. “Well, I thought about it, and after your fog story, I changed my mind.”

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it. After all, you are the expert,” I said and let him help me to my feet. This time, he let go of my hand straight away instead of holding it for a bit.

“Come on,” he said over his shoulder, already several feet ahead of me down the path to the church. “You don’t want to be late on your first day of work. The owner’s son might just fire you.”