by Aiden Thomas
Julian groaned. “We’re just buying time, Yads, what’s the point?”
“One more day,” he insisted, firmer this time. “Tomorrow at midnight, Día de Muertos will start, and—”
“And all the ghosts get to come back, yeah, I remember,” Julian grumbled.
Yadriel didn’t have the time nor patience to correct him with any sort of civility. “I’ll release you then. That gives us one more day.”
Julian looked ready to argue. When he opened his mouth, Yadriel cut him off.
“Tomorrow night, okay?”
Julian’s mouth snapped shut. The muscles in his jaw flexed. But eventually, he said, “Fine.”
It gave Yadriel little relief. “Fine.” He stomped over to his closet, peeled off his hoodie, and angrily threw it into his overflowing hamper. He opened his drawer and yanked out clean clothes before he shoved it closed with a snap.
Without a word, he left for the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
Yadriel threw back the shower curtain and cranked on the water, twisting it to hot. When he got in, it was near scalding, but he wanted to feel the bite on his skin as he scrubbed himself clean. By the time he was certain there was no trace of that black gunk under his nails, or the smell of Tito’s rotting flesh in his hair, the hot water had faded to warm. His skin was flushed and raw.
Overcome with a wave of exhaustion, Yadriel leaned his forehead against the cool tile wall and closed his eyes. The water beat against his neck and cascaded down his back. He wanted to hold on to his anger because he was scared of what would be left to feel without it, but he was too tired to stay mad.
He’d been so distracted by his own thoughts that he hadn’t taken care to dry himself off properly before trying to pull on his binder. All his binders with the side clasps that were easier to get into were in the laundry, so he was stuck with a vest-style one. He managed to get it over his head, but when he tried to shrug into the tight, stretchy material, it clung mercilessly to his wet shoulders. Yadriel gave it a tug, wiggled, and squirmed, but it only seemed to get tighter. His frustration boiled over and he thrashed, practically tripping over the bath mat as he struggled. A moment later, he was stuck, only one arm through and the binder bunched and tight across his collarbone. Yadriel slumped, collapsing onto the toilet seat as he tried to catch his breath.
Why was he acting like this?
So many things had gone so right and so wrong in such a short amount of time. His dad had come around. He saw Yadriel clearly as he was. He had even agreed to let Yadriel be in the aquelarre this year. Yadriel would see his mom soon, and she would see what he had accomplished since she’d left. He would be welcomed and accepted by his community for who he was. Finally.
But now he would be losing Julian in the same night. Why did the pain of that impending loss hit him harder than anything else?
If they only had one day left together, Yadriel wasn’t going to tell anyone about him. Not his dad, not Tío Catriz or anyone else. Julian was his secret, and he wanted to keep him all to himself for as long as he could.
Eventually, by continued forceful tugging and wiggling, he got the binder on. When Yadriel went back into his room, Julian was sprawled out on the bed. Purrcaso was curled up on his chest, her nose tucked into her tail, fast sleep.
“This is still so weird,” Julian said, trailing his fingertip along Purrcaso’s crooked little spine.
“I told you not to make fun of her,” Yadriel said, slicking his wet hair back and out of his face.
Julian rolled his eyes, but an amused smirk still tugged at his lips. “Not what I meant.”
Yadriel flopped onto the bed next to Julian and stared up at the ceiling. They lay there for a minute, with only the distant sound of traffic and Purrcaso’s mighty purrs between them.
“Jules?” Yadriel finally ventured. His heartbeat like a finger tapping against his throat.
Julian hummed in response.
Yadriel stole a look over at him. His attention was on Purrcaso, his dark lashes hiding his eyes.
“Why don’t you like to speak Spanish?”
Julian’s hand paused, his fingers hovering above Purrcaso, who let out a displeased sound at the sudden lack of petting.
Silence stretched between them for a long moment. Yadriel thought he wasn’t going to answer the question. It seemed like a strange thing to carry so much weight.
When Julian finally spoke, his words were quiet and tentative.
“My dad didn’t know much English, so we pretty much only spoke Spanish at home.” He didn’t look at Yadriel but toyed with Purrcaso’s tail. “It’s not that I don’t like speaking Spanish, I mean, it’s me, you know? I think in it, I dream in it, but…” He trailed off, expression pinched as he tried to find the right words. “But it was also my dad, you know?” Julian made a frustrated sound. “I don’t know how to explain it. At school we have to speak English, and my friends mostly speak in English, too, so Spanish was more like … It was what we used at home. It was what I used with my dad—the only language I spoke with him. So, when he died…”
Yadriel felt a pang in his chest.
Julian’s shoulder pulled into a shrug. “I don’t know, man. Just didn’t feel right using it without him, I guess. Feels too…” He made a twisting gesture with his hand, frustration working his jaw.
“Intimate?” Yadriel offered.
Julian’s eyes snapped to Yadriel with a look so intent, it struck him like lightning. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Something like that.”
Yadriel gave a small nod.
“That sounds dumb, right?” Julian asked, eyeing him like he expected Yadriel to laugh.
“No, it definitely doesn’t sound dumb. It makes sense, not wanting to share something personal that means a lot to you.” Yadriel hooked a finger around the chain of Julian’s St. Jude pendant, letting it dangle. “Kind of like having a stranger wear this?” he guessed.
Julian stared at the silver medal. He reached out. The pendant swayed at his ghostly touch. “Yeah, kind of.” Julian withdrew his hand and cleared his throat.
Yadriel didn’t argue when he unceremoniously jumped topics.
“How does the whole Día de Muertos thing work, exactly?” Julian asked, glancing over at Yadriel. “All the food and altars and decorations and stuff.”
Yadriel stretched and tucked his hands under his neck. “Well, to welcome our ancestors back, we make ofrendas for our family members. We use their pictures, belongings, and favorite foods. Then there’s the standard stuff like mezcal, pan de muerto—”
“Sounds like a party.” Julian grinned.
“It is. One big party,” Yadriel agreed. “We decorate the cemetery with papel picado—the colorful cutouts, we string them up like banners all over the place. We use sugarcane to make arches.” Yadriel gestured with his hands, drawing an arch in the air. “We cover the arches in marigolds—cempasúchitl, specifically. They’re the gateways the spirits use to pass through from the land of the dead to the land of the living. The food and trinkets, the color of the marigolds and their really strong scent of apples lead the spirits back to the cemetery.”
“Do they have to be buried here to come back?” Julian asked.
Yadriel shook his head. “So many of our brujx are immigrants. From Mexico, South America, the Caribbean—all over the place. There are different cemeteries like ours all over the United States. So, no, they don’t have to be buried here. It’d be kind of weird to have people digging up dead bodies or lugging their ashes across the border,” he pointed out. “All you need is the ofrenda.”
“Is it like, all your ancestors ever? The cemetery is pretty big, but enough to hold hundreds of generations?” Julian gave him a dubious look, eyebrow arching.
“Just whoever we call, whoever we still remember. Some people we obviously forget. I don’t know who my great-great-great-great-grandmother was or anything.”
Julian hummed. “That seems sad.”
Yadriel lifted h
is shoulders in a small shrug. “I don’t think so. The way I figure it, all of their family they were close to died by now, too, right? So they get to all hang out and party in the afterlife together. There’s no need for them to come back and visit.”
“What’s the afterlife like?” Julian was trying to sound casual, but Yadriel could hear in his voice that he was worried.
“I don’t know,” Yadriel answered honestly.
Julian looked disappointed.
“But it’s got to be really nice. Everyone always comes back smiling and happy.”
“Have you ever asked one of them?”
“No, it’s kind of an … unspoken thing.”
Another long stretch of silence.
“Is there a hell?”
When Yadriel turned his head to look over at Julian, the other boy’s eyes were already staring back. He studied Julian’s face in the pale light streaming in the window.
“Well, there’s Xibalba—”
Julian’s eyes bulged.
“But you won’t end up there!” he rushed to finish. “Seriously, Lady Death makes sure of that.”
“I think I would’ve made a good brujo,” Julian told him, idly toying with Purrcaso’s tail.
Yadriel grinned. “You think so?”
“Definitely.” He nodded. “I’m into the whole portaje aesthetic. Yours is badass.”
Yadriel chuckled. “It’s more than just having a cool knife.”
“I know, I know, I know.” Julian waved him off. “But it’s the coolest part.” He grinned. “It’s really too bad I’m not a brujo.”
“A real shame,” Yadriel agreed, hiding behind a tone of sarcasm.
If Julian were a brujo, they wouldn’t be in this mess. Things would be simpler, easier. They wouldn’t be impossible. Yadriel wouldn’t have to let him go.
He wanted to stay up all night, just talking and answering Julian’s questions, but even though he fought it, eventually Yadriel started to nod off. He changed out of his binder while Julian settled down on the floor with the sleeping bag again.
Bundled up under the covers, Yadriel waited until Julian rolled onto his side, facing away from him. The blue light of his old iPhone shone through his translucent form as Julian scrolled through Yadriel’s music.
Yadriel turned to the window and pulled out Julian’s gray-and-black plaid shirt he’d stashed under his pillow. He rubbed the soft flannel between his fingers. Yadriel closed his eyes and buried his nose in the shirt. As he drifted off to sleep, he breathed in the smell of Julian, but it was already starting to fade.
NINETEEN
“I’m supposed to be in school today, and Maritza said she’d cover for me after school,” Yadriel said. As long as he was present and accounted for by the time Día de Muertos rang in on the church bells, he’d be okay. “So we have all day to do whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?” Julian repeated, giving Yadriel a doubtful look.
“Whatever you want,” Yadriel confirmed as he combed his hair carefully into style. He didn’t remember dreaming last night, but when he woke up, there was a gaping ache in his chest and the shakiness that chased him into waking after a nightmare.
“Well, within reason,” he added. “We don’t have the time or funds to, like, fly to Hawaii or something.”
“That’s fine, I don’t like pineapple, and ‘fly on a plane’ was never on my bucket list anyways.” Julian shrugged.
“You’ve never been on a plane?” Yadriel didn’t travel all that much, and if they visited his mom’s family in Mexico, they just drove across the border. He’d only flown to Cuba a handful of times to visit his dad’s extended family, but still he was surprised.
“Tch, hell no! Get on a big metal death bird?” Julian shook his head. “Yeah, no, hard pass.”
“Well, you have some time to figure out what you want to do,” Yadriel told him as he loaded up his backpack with items they would need later that night. “We have to pick up some supplies first.”
“I still can’t believe you’re ditching school,” Julian remarked as he stood up from the floor. He was already buzzing with excitement. “You seem too straitlaced for that kind of thing.”
“I’m not straitlaced!” Yadriel scowled.
Julian cocked an eyebrow. “Have you ditched before?”
“… No.”
Julian smirked.
“Oh, shut up.” Yadriel checked his phone again as he tucked his portaje into its sheath against his lower back. He would need it later that night, when it was time to release Julian.
But he didn’t want to think about that right now. Right now, he just wanted to focus on Julian and his last day on earth.
Yadriel sent Maritza one last thank-you text. Twice she’d asked if she could go with them. Whether it was because she wanted to get out of class, or because she didn’t want Yadriel going off on his own with Julian, he wasn’t sure. Either way, Yadriel was letting himself be selfish.
Hoisting the especially heavily backpack onto his shoulders, Yadriel turned to Julian. “Ready?”
But he really hadn’t needed to ask. Julian was all raw electricity and blazing eyes. “God yes.” A wicked grin cut dimples into his cheeks, and Yadriel couldn’t stop himself from grinning back.
“Don’t draw any attention to yourself,” Yadriel warned him. “We still have to get through the cemetery.”
It was the morning of October 31. While most families were decorating for trick-or-treaters, or dressing their kids up for school, it was a very different scenario in the brujx cemetery.
As Yadriel quickly dashed between headstones, men and women filed in and out of the church and down the stone pathways, carrying boxes of candles, stacks of papel picado, and stalks of sugarcane. The resident spirits were also out, walking among the living and chatting excitedly. There were enough that Julian blended in with the crowds, a safe distance from Yadriel.
Lita stood on the steps of the church, calling out instructions and directing people this way and that, like a maestro. She wore one of her best dresses, a white one with short sleeves and brightly embroidered flowers along the neck and hem. A heavy beaded necklace was around her neck with a gold pendant depicting the Maya calendar. Bracelets of gold and jade clacked on her wrists.
His father stood by the gate, pointing people in the right direction as he tried to pat down his wavy hair. He wore a pair of slacks and a short-sleeved guayabera. It was bright red, which Yadriel knew was his mom’s favorite color.
He was about to make a run for it when his dad stopped him. “Yadriel!” he called after, waving him over. He looked nervous, continuing to fuss with his hair.
“I’m in a hurry, Dad,” Yadriel tried to deflect. “Late for school.” Julian slipped out behind his dad’s back, dodging between brujx and spirits alike.
“We need to put the finishing touches on the ofrenda for your mamá, so don’t be late,” his dad said, combing his fingers through his mustache. He smoothed down his shirt and stood up tall, sucking in his gut.
Yadriel just nodded. While he was getting used to sneaking around, he still didn’t have it in himself to lie so blatantly to his dad’s face. He would not be home right after school, probably wouldn’t be back until very late, after—
His stomach clenched. No, he didn’t want to think about that. Right now, he was only looking to make Julian happy. He wouldn’t let himself think past midnight.
Luckily, his dad didn’t seem at all suspicious. Enrique let out a breath, and his stomach pushed against his shirt, spilling a little over the edge of his belt.
Yadriel used his dad’s distraction to his benefit. “Okay, see you tonight!” he called, giving his dad a wave as he ran out the gate and down to where Julian was waiting at the corner.
“So, where to first, patrón?” he asked, walking backward in front of Yadriel.
“The store,” he said.
“For what?”
“Your favorite food. Whatever you want.”
Julian’s eyes lit up. “Whatever I want? But—wait.” He frowned. “For me? But I thought I couldn’t eat normal food?”
“You can’t,” Yadriel agreed, looking both ways before he crossed the street. “It’s for later.”
“What’s later?” Julian asked, jogging after him.
“It’s a secret,” Yadriel told him. He expected Julian to put up a fight, or at least whine and demand answers.
Instead, Julian bit his bottom lip, a wide smile splitting his face. The tips of his ears tinged red, and satisfaction thrummed in Yadriel’s chest.
They went to the local Mexican market. It was a large cement building painted yellow. As they strolled down the aisles, Yadriel dumped anything Julian pointed out into a red hand basket. Quickly, it filled up with packages of Gansitos, two glass bottles of Coke, pink coconut cookies, and some potato chips.
“TAKIS, TAKIS, TAKIS!” Julian crowed, running up to the display rack.
“Limón or fuego?” Yadriel asked, holding up the two bags.
Julian’s face contorted, like he’d just tasted something bitter. “Tch, fuego, obviously.” He shuddered. “I don’t like stuff with too much lime.”
Yadriel laughed and tossed the bag in. “You’re a disgrace to your people.” He bought the snacks with the cash he’d been saving over the past few weeks. When they stepped outside, there was an older man with a cart. Bags of fried dough in the shapes of pinwheels were tied around it.
“OOO, DUROS, YADRIEL!” Julian shouted so suddenly it made Yadriel jump.
“Okay, Jesus,” he whispered under his breath. He went up to the man and asked for a bag. The vendor opened one of the bags and dumped in chamoy, a pickled fruit and chili sauce that reeked of vinegar.
“No lime, no lime, no lime!” Julian panicked when the man reached for a small green bottle.
“Sin limón, por favor,” Yadriel told him. When they got a safe distance, he stopped to shove the contraband into his already stuffed backpack. “Ugh, my bag is never going to smell the same again,” Yadriel said, crinkling his nose.
Julian, on the other hand, inhaled deeply, sending his eyelids fluttering. “Mmm, I’m literally drooling right now,” he moaned.
