Page 33 of Espíritu

Maritza peeked out from behind the curtain of paper she was slicing. “Damn, you’re polite. Most guests just insult Julian and steal a tamal.”

Lita’s eyes crinkled with a gentle warmth. “It’s our duty to protect our home and those we care about. I’m glad you feel that way, mija.” She beckoned Angel toward the kitchen. “Come, you must be hungry! Join us!”

“That’s okay, really—” Angel tried to say.

Lita waved them off. “Donde come uno, comen dos!”

While Maritza and Julian argued over the best shapes to cut out for paper poinsettias, Yadriel assisted Lita with the rest of dinner. Angel took a seat at the counter.

“Tell me, querida, how did you end up here?” she asked, handing Angel a cup of steaming atole.

Angel traced the rim of the cup with their finger. “I’ve been traveling, trying to make it to Mexico for La Vigilia de Medianoche—the Midnight Vigil—to be with my family.” They paused, glancing around at the cozy kitchen.

“It’s a hard time of year to be away from family,” Lita said with a knowing nod.

Angel shrugged, their expression unreadable. “It is what it is. I’ll make it there in time.”

Yadriel’s heart ached a little at the thought of Angel traveling alone, trying to make it home for something so important. He couldn’t imagine missing the Midnight Vigil, being away from his family during such a sacred event. He wanted to say something comforting, but he wasn’t sure what.

“But being here is nice,” Angel continued. “Like maybe I was supposed to find you all. I haven’t had a homemade meal in a long time,” she admitted with a breathy laugh.

Lita’s eyes glistened. “Sometimes, Lady Death has a way of guiding us to where we need to be, even if we don’t understand it at the time.” She rested a hand on Angel’s arm. “You know,” Lita said, “you are very welcome here. And if you’re still here for the vigil, please join us.”

Angel’s lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, Yadriel thought he saw something vulnerable there—a crack in Angel’s armor.

“Thank you,” they whispered, their voice almost lost beneath Julian and Maritza’s bickering.

Yadriel smiled. It was nice to have Angel here.

“Tell me more about your circle,” Lita said. “How do they do things there?”

Angel hesitated. Yadriel knew they were gauging how traditional Lita might be, how accepting.

“It’s different,” they said slowly.

Maritza cleared her throat. “How does that work for you, Angel? I mean … having both gifts? Healing and releasing—that’s not something we’ve ever seen here.”

There was a subtle shift in Maritza’s posture, her jaw set a little too tightly. Yadriel could tell she didn’t mean to challenge Angel, but there was something underneath her question that went beyond curiosity. Maybe even a tinge of longing. Maritza had always played it cool, always waved off what she couldn’t claim as her own. But Yadriel knew better. He knew what it cost her to give up being a bruja.

“We don’t designate tasks by gender,” Angel explained. “Bruje like me—nonbinary folks—we can do both. Heal the living, release spirits.” Angel shrugged as if it weren’t a big deal while Yadriel’s whole world was being split open. “It’s liberating, in a way.”

“I can’t even imagine.” Yadriel’s voice caught, more wistful than awed.

Angel gave a small smile. “It’s nice to have that freedom. To just be who I am, without limitations.”

Lita nodded thoughtfully. “We could all learn something from your circle,” she said. “It’s time we celebrated our differences, made room for everyone.”

Yadriel couldn’t help but feel annoyed. It was hard not to notice the irony. Lita had struggled for years to accept him as trans, yet she didn’t hesitate for a second with her first nonbinary brujx. He was grateful, truly—seeing Lita accept Angel so easily filled him with hope. But it still stung that it had taken her so long to offer him the same grace.

Maritza’s brow furrowed. “So you don’t have to choose,” she said, more to herself than anyone else. “That’s kinda … awesome.”

“I think it’s incredible,” Yadriel said. “The way you live, the way your circle accepts everyone.” Angel had the understanding and support Yadriel had always wanted from his community. From his own family.

Angel met his gaze. “Thanks, Yadriel,” they said quietly. “That means a lot.”

Julian nudged Yadriel’s foot. His eyes were soft and filled with admiration. Yadriel felt his heart swell, and he reached over, squeezing Julian’s hand under the table. Julian held on a second longer than necessary.

They worked in comfortable silence, the sounds of paper folding and scissors cutting filling the kitchen. Yadriel couldn’t help but steal glances at Angel, marveling at how effortlessly they seemed to fit in despite their guardedness. He was fascinated by them, by their confidence, by the way they existed outside of the traditional roles that seemed to define the East LA brujx.