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”Souls reconstructed with faith transforms agony into peace.”
-Aberjhani, “The River of Winged Dreams”
Zulema lost a child.
Maca knows.
The first time they met, there was a kindred feeling of shared loss, and on their first date, Maca shared her experience with losing her parents. Zulema shared her own experience of losing her child. It spoke volumes of their immediate connection because Zulema was never one to share much of herself with anyone. She prefers action. But she learned with Maca. She’s still learning.
Afterward, Zulema still didn’t speak about the experience often until recently. Maca has a sneaking suspicion that it has something to do with the group of shop kids that hang around the tattoo parlor after the final school bell. There’s one in particular, Viví, that hangs onto Zulema’s every word. She watches in quiet discernment as the woman sketches tattoos and then retraces them onto stencils to be placed delicately upon a customer’s skin.
“This your kid, Zulema?” A frequent flier of Zulema’s tattoo chair asks. Normally, he wouldn’t pry —everyone knows Zulema’s not a sharer— but the way Vivi is looking at Zulema as if she wants to ask for an autograph has made him curious.
Zulema pulls the buzzing needle away from his skin and glances up at the young brunette in the doorway. “That’s Vivi,” is all she says in response because really she’s not sure what to call the kid. “She’ll be my apprentice in a couple of years,” she offers as well. “Right, kid?”
Vivi’s eyes balloon in size and her chest puffs out a little proudly and she nods seriously. “Right.”
The customer watches as the right corner of Zulema’s mouth twitches upward before she readjusts her focus onto his chest piece.
If her kid had survived, Zulema likes to think she would be a lot like Vivi. Smart as a whip, funny, and just the right amount of feisty with an eye for detail. Zulema doesn’t mind surviving off of this kind of ‘what if’.
It’s raining by the time Zulema closes the shop. With Vivi on her heels, the older brunette turns off the lights in the shop and they exit together. Vivi idles nearby as Zulema locks up and then pulls out a pre-rolled cigarette. As she inhales the first pull of tobacco, Zulema looks over to see Vivi pulling her light jacket tighter around her small frame. It is chilly out.
Winter is coming.
Zulema slips the cigarette between her lips, and empties her jacket pockets, slipping her necessities into the pockets of her cargo joggers. She then removes her bomber jacket and holds it out to Vivi. When the girl looks at her questioningly, Zulema shakes it at her.
“Put it on before you catch your death,” Zulema says, exhaling smoke into the air.
“Thanks.” She pulls it on. It swallows her whole, but it’s the coolest thing she’s ever been gifted.
Wait, is it a gift?
“I’ll bring it back to you next time I’m here,” Vivi tells her.
Zulema shakes her head and puts the butt of her cigarette out on the bottom of her boot before flicking it into the street. “Keep it. Looks cooler on you anyway.”
Vivi’s smile brightens.
“You need a lift somewhere, kid?”
“Oh, uh, no. My mom should be here to get me soon.”
She’s a terrible liar. But Zulema allows her to have this slice of dignity.
“ Vale . I’ll look for you on Monday.” She pulls a few colorful bills from her pocket and peels off two, handing them to Vivi.
“What’s this for?”
“You helped me clean up the shop today.”
“It was nothing. I can’t take your money, Zulema.”
Zulema pulls Vivi’s hand from the pocket of the jacket and shoves the bills inside of her palm. “Your time is precious. And your work, no matter how small it may seem, is valuable. Never let anyone tell you differently. Know your worth, entiendes ?”
Vivi nods.
“Monday?”
“Monday,” Vivi confirms.
Zulema heads to her SUV and hops inside. Through the tinted glass, she watches Vivi for a moment longer before turning on the engine and pulling off.
She’s not going home.
She can’t.
Not when she knows something is wrong. So she circles the block once and when she pulls back up to the shop, Vivi is still there.
Zulema rolls down the passenger side window, puts her pointer finger and thumb into her mouth, and lets out a loud whistle. Vivi’s head shoots over to her like a cat on high alert. For a brief moment, before she realizes that it’s Zulema, Vivi looks… frightened?
Zulema’s never seen that look on her before. And it breaks her heart. Who would ever hurt this kind human? What has this kid been through?
She doesn’t think twice. “I forgot that Maca wanted me to invite you over for dinner! Get in the car!”
Zulema is also a terrible liar.
Vivi looks to her left and right. Weighs the pros and cons of another night without a proper dinner or a warm atmosphere. She pushes off of the wall and heads towards Zulema’s car. Vivi gets into the front seat and looks over at her older counterpart.
“Put your seatbelt on.”
They don’t speak about the fact that Vivi’s mom was never coming.
Maca welcomes Vivi with a hug and gives Zulema big “what’s all this about?” eyes over Vivi’s shoulder.
“I almost forgot the kid,” Zulema said, jokingly. “I remembered you wanted her to try that new thing you made for dinner.”
Maca understands immediately. “Yes! Vivi, you have to try this sauce I found in this cute little Mediterranean spice shop.” She pulls the younger girl further into the house and Zulema exhales. She desperately wants another cigarette, but she’s promised Maca she would slow down.
After Vivi is shown where to get cleaned up for dinner, Maca makes her way back into the kitchen. She swats Zulema’s hand away from the chicken sauté she’s made, pulling the brunette close. Wrapping her arms around Zulema’s neck, Maca kisses her. Softly .
“What was that for?”
“Because no matter how tough you want people to think you are, you are as soft as they come, Zahir.”
“Why? Because I bring home strays?”
Maca giggles. “No, because you care enough to look through all of the bullshit long enough to even spot a stray.”
“That’s how I got you, you know?”
Maca makes a tching noise but kisses her wife again all the same.
Vivi sleeps over. She assures Maca that her parents are cool with it, though she’s barely been on her phone all night.
She feels strange in the morning. Awkward because what is she meant to do in this ridiculously gorgeous house that feels so much like home even though it’s not?
Eat breakfast of course. Maca stuffs her full of banana-blueberry pancakes and fresh fruit and then demands that she comes shopping with her and Zulema.
Anything Vivi touches or looks at longingly, Zulema circles back when they’re not looking or onto a different store and quickly purchases it.
It’s not until they’re back home and Vivi returns from the bathroom to see the bags on her bed. She cries as quietly as she can.
This is too much. It’s too kind. And she knows it’s only a matter of time before it’s all ripped from underneath of her. Just like every other good thing she’s ever had.
So she does what she does best.
She runs.
And the only thing she takes with her is Zulema’s bomber jacket. A memory of the best twenty-four hours she’s had in a long time.
Maca is worried sick when she can’t find Vivi for dinner.
Is this parenthood? Maca wonders. Being terrified that something bad is going to happen.
Zulema feels like she’s lost another child.
Vivi doesn’t come to the shop on Monday. Nor Tuesday or Wednesday. Zulema asks her friends who still loiter about. They haven’t seen her either. She’s been skipping school. They don’t know where she lives. Vivi’s never invited them over.
Zulema’s heart aches for days. 8 to be exact. She completes the five stages of grief again. And she’s just hit acceptance when Vivi enters the shop the following Tuesday.
“Hi,” she says to Zulema. The brunette doesn’t look up from her computer. She doesn’t speak for a long while. And Vivi takes this as rejection. Probably exactly how she’s made Zulema feel. Just as she’s turning to leave, Zulema tells her, “Saray’s workspace needs to be disinfected. She has an appointment at four.”
Vivi nods once even though Zulema still doesn’t look up from her computer. She knows where the cleaning supplies are.
“The next time you don’t show up for work, you’re fired. Am I clear?“
The next time you run, we’re done.
“Crystal.”
She returns home with Zulema after work. The car ride is silent. Vivi wants to tell Zulema what’s going on. What’s happened. But… there’s just so much stuff .
“ She’s sensitive ,” Maca tells Vivi later that night. “Zulema’s had so much loss in her life. Find a way to let her know she’s not the reason you left. And if you let yourself, you might be surprised at just how loved you are here with us.”
Vivi finds Zulema on the terrace that evening. They sit in silence for a long while before pointing up at the clear, night sky.
“Don’t those star clusters kinda look like a wonky scorpion?”
Maca hears Zulema’s deep rumble of a chuckle coming from the open balcony doors. It’s a rarity, not because she’s never happy, but because Zulema stamps her most extreme emotions deep down into her spirit, leaving only her eyes to tell Maca everything.
So, the blonde is curious. Naturally.
The noses of her bunny slippers guide her across the hardwood flooring and to the door to peer outside. Lying in the lounge chairs, separated by a small table, are Zulema and Viví. The younger brunette’s arm lifts and she points to the starry Madrid sky.
“Those two connect and then see the big one there? It pulls them all together. So, it’s a—.”
“It’s not a spaceship. You can’t just make up constellations.”
“Says who?” Vivi counters.
“I don’t know, tía , the constellation people.”
“Well, then the constellation people are stupid.”
Maca smiles at their banter and turns to leave them be when she hears:
“Look, those two that connect are me and Maca,” Zulema tells her. “And the big one that pulls them together at the top is you.”
“Me?”
“You.” They’re quiet for a while and just when Maca starts to pray that Viví answers Zulema’s humbled confession, the girl does.
“I’ve never connected people before.”
“We were already connected when you met us,” Zulema clarifies. “But you came into our lives and made everything feel complete.”
Maca looks up to find their family constellation, but she realizes her vision is blurred by the tears in her eyes. She quickly wipes them, careful not to smear any mascara.
“I’ve never really had a family. My father is,” the teen shivers uncomfortably, “ sick .” By her tone, Maca senses she doesn’t mean physically ill.
“ Y tú madre ?”
“She left him eventually, but the damage was already done, you know? For so long, I wanted her to listen. To hear me. Now I have nothing to say to her anymore.”
Zulema understands.
All too well.
“You know, my first marriage was to a man three times my age.”
Maca’s brows raise. She knows about Zulema’s past, but she never thought she’d hear her wife tell anyone else.
Viví has changed Zulema for the better. She’s more open and trusts those closest to her enough to share more of herself. It’s beautiful to witness.
Viví has come into their lives at the perfect moment.
“I’m sorry.”
Zulema reaches onto the table for a pre-rolled cigarette. The swish-flick of her lighter sounds and then Maca sees a steady stream of smoke billow away from the massive lounge chair.
“It was a long time ago,” Zulema dismisses. “Point is, family isn’t forced by blood or marriage. It’s the bonds you choose because their energy matches your own. You will never be spiritually poor if you invest in the right people, entiendes ?”
“Yes, I understand.”
Life lessons with Zulema Zahir. They will never become old to Maca.
“Hey, Zule.”
Inhale. Exhale. Stream of smoke.
“ Que ?”
“Thanks for choosing me.”
Maca knows Zulema’s response before she even says it, so she mouths it with a playful roll of her eyes.
“Don’t make it a big deal.”
And as Zulema says it with her, Maca feels a bubble of inexplicable giddiness fill up in her chest and threaten to burst out of her mouth as a laugh. So, she pretends she’s been searching for them. With a clap of her hands, she announces her presence.
“I’ve been looking all over for you two. Dessert is ready. Double fudge dulce de leche .” She leans over the back of Zulema’s chair and kisses the top of her head and then reaches over Vivi’s and taps a finger to her nose. “Go get cleaned up.”
When Viví disappears into the house, Maca slips onto the unendurable armrest of Zulema’s chair and scratches the crown of her head, murmuring, “Thanks for choosing me, too.”
“You’ve been a pain in my ass ever since,” Zulema teases. “I deserve naked time for all of my pain and suffering.”
Maca tosses her head back and laughs. “ Vale , we’ll save some dessert for later.”
“Now we’re talking!”
“Slower,” Zulema urges gently. “Think of it like syrup slipping out of the bottle. It doesn’t rush, and in the end, the result is much sweeter.”
Viví nods and traces the rose slowly along the stencil paper. It takes her longer than she thinks it would but, in the end—.
“Sweeter,” Vivi murmurs to herself. It works. Her line work is improving already. “Z, look.”
Zulema’s heart seizes in her chest at the little nickname, so she casually tosses one back. “ Muy bien , V.” She holds out a fist and Vivi bumps her against it.
“And what are these types of tattoos called again?” Zulema quizzes.
“Flash tattoos. For practicing line work and steadiness.”
“And?”
“And even after becoming licensed, I should always practice flash tattoos in my spare time.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s always room for improvement.”
“Good girl,” Zulema praises and Vivi can barely contain her happiness. “I’ll have Maca pick up some fruit and you can practice on those this weekend.”
“Wait, you mean like actually using a tattoo gun?”
As if on cue, Maca walks into the office. “ Oye , that was supposed to be a surprise for her birthday!”
Vivi’s entire face lights up and she stands from the chair practically, bouncing on her toes with excitement. “What’s the surprise?”
Zulema and Maca have a silent conversation with their eyes —they do this a lot in front of her— before Maca nods.
“We got you a beginner tattoo kit,” Zule tells her. The squeal that Vivi lets out is deafening but Zulema doesn’t have time to cover her ears because Vivi is launching herself into Zulema’s arms. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She hugs Maca next, thanking her as well.
“But your birthday isn’t for another week, so, in the meantime,” Maca hands the kid a spray bottle and hand towel, “I believe you’re supposed to be cleaning your new office before closing.”
Vivi takes possession of the cleaning products, reverently and zooms out of the room. There’s a beat of silence before she pokes her head back into Zulema’s office and says, “You know, you guys are the best parents a girl could ever ask for.”
And when she leaves again, Maca looks at Zulema who tilts her head up to the ceiling, trying to fight the tears prickling in her eyes.
Sweet, good things in life always take time to come. And each decision one makes, creates the carefully drawn stencil of one’s life. And eventually, what one has are the beautiful, slowly-crafted permanent reminders of who they are.
Like ink and honey.