Page 55 of Throwing Shade
I listened to my instincts telling me that Tatiana’s friendly interest was only a partial truth. She hadn’t shown up because of Laurent, but because she was interested in knowing more about me. Why? What did I know about Tatiana, other than she was powerful, well-versed in my magic, and acquainted with Laurent? Hell, he might have been the one to tell her about me. Who was this woman if I stripped away the eccentric artist veneer, and was it safer to lie to her or be honest? If I lied about my abilities, what would I even say?
Some of my kind were necromancers, able to commune with the dead, and there were tales of the ones whose touch was instantly fatal, though my parents had never met any of those people. I didn’t know what else Banim Shovavim were capable of, because my parents had the same abilities as me of invisible cloaking and an animated shadow.
A tightness surged through my ribcage. For the first time in my life, I hated them for whatever shady business had gotten them killed. They should have stuck around long enough to guide me safely to adulthood with all the tools and information I’d need to survive.
No, to thrive.
“Animating my shadow,” I said.
Tatiana got a shrewd look in her eyes and a chill swept through me. “That’s it?”
One of the clarinetists onstage launched into a mournful tune, which I took as an omen to hold back about my cloaking.
“Pretty much.”
“Hmm.” Tatiana reached for her glass. “Always hydrate.” She jerked her chin at me to drink up. “Anyways,” she said brightly, squeezing my hand, “I’m glad you have magic. Life is so much more exciting with it.”
“Absolutely. Excuse me a moment.”
I hurried to the restrooms, done in stark black-and-white tiles, my eyes watering in sweet relief as I voided my bladder. Someone had written “When will the devil come for you?” on the wooden stall door. The way my magic encounters had been going, this wasn’t so much an existential question as one of scheduling.
Washing my hands, I stared at my reflection, unnerved by that game of Memory and Tatiana’s revelations. Ravens in mythology were tied to prophecy and as such, considered bad omens. First Emmett, now Poe.
That card with Alex on it. If I hadn’t snapped and unleashed my magic, would I be alive now? What about that darkness? Was that on me, or did I stop whatever that was and bring sunshine into the world? Was I an agent of good or evil—or neither and there was some other meaning entirely to these cards?
I blotted my face with a damp paper towel, feeling like I was falling further and further down a slippery slope. Had I really been destined to die and, having now cheated death, my future was blank with infinite possibilities?
If that was true what did I want my future to look like? For the year or so from when my powers kicked in until I’d cut them off, Delilah was the best non-imaginary friend ever. She’d been my accomplice and confidante, and shutting her down had caused an ache like a phantom limb that I’d forced myself to ignore until it had finally faded—but I had faded, too.
With my parents’ murder, life turned into an endless series of me ceding tiny pieces of my identity, which was accelerated when my marriage broke up. Determined to prevent Sadie from seeing me curled into a tiny ball, crying my way through the night, I’d overcompensated, making certain that her life stayed as positive and as free from pain as I could make it.
Sadly, I’d been so busy hiding and “being normal” that I’d forgotten the joy my powers gave me. My magic was no longer a secret. Why live as though it still was? I didn’t have to be reckless about it. It’s not like I was going to trash all my responsibilities and blow up my life like Jude had suggested, I’d just let some magic back in.
My power allowed me to be invisible, but shadows were nothing without light. Plenty of women were magnificent in middle age and older and from now on, I would be one of them.
Hi, my name is Miriam Feldman and I’m a Banim Shovavim. Fuck you, haters.
I flashed my reflection a thumbs-up.
But in the interests of playing it smart, how should I deal with the woman waiting for me? I re-applied my lipstick. Tatiana was playing games as much as Poe had. Let her think she’d won this round. Maybe my years of suppressing my true nature and being invisible could be weaponized. After all, being underestimated had its uses, and as my parents always said, “the best thing about Banim Shovavim magic was that no one saw you coming.”
Tossing the paper in the trash, I high-fived Delilah.
I got back to the banquette moments before my partner-in-crime returned.
“Laurent!” Tatiana beamed, turning her face up to him.
He kissed her on both cheeks, wrinkling his nose when she brushed a curl out of his eyes, but the smile he gave her was genuinely fond. “Ma chère tante. Are you corrupting Feldman here?” He slid in next to me and draped an arm over the back of the banquette.
I stared at him, suspicious of his jovial tone.
Tatiana spread her thumb and index finger apart, then she laughed. “Kidding. I’m a paragon of perfect behaviour, Lolo.”
Lolo? I stifled a snort.
“You, on the other hand, are very rude.” Tatiana gestured at me. “You should have introduced this delightful woman to me the moment you’d arrived.”
“You’re right,” he said. “Am I forgiven?”
