The Garden (Into Shadow collection) by Tomi Champion-Adeyemi

Author:Tomi Champion-Adeyemi [Champion-Adeyemi, Tomi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amazon Original Stories
Published: 2022-11-15T05:00:00+00:00

“Do you believe in magic?” Lęina asked.

“Real magic?”

“Yeah—like the sun and the moon and the stars.”

“And wolves that roam free at midnight?”

“Fated love that heals old scars?”

Angelo chewed on Lęina’s question, pulling off the highway for gas. His fingers drummed against the dashboard as he waited for a station to go free. Lęina’s ears danced to the complicated beats.

“You’re a musician?”

“You can tell just from that?”

She nodded. “I used to play in a band.”

“What instrument?”

“Guess.”

A crooked smile broke out across Angelo’s face.

He looked like the type of person who enjoyed these types of games.

Angelo didn’t rush for an answer as they waited. He didn’t speak when a pump went free. Angelo’s fingers seemed to investigate as they danced across the shiny yellow pumps that read “4.57 Real.”

He continued to look back at Lęina, combing over her tennis shoes, the ribbon in her hair, even the curve of her manicured nails.

“Keyboard,” he finally answered.

Lęina smiled.

“How did you know?”

Angelo crossed his arms like there was nothing in this world he did not know.

“You have a beautiful voice. But your fingers are soft. Too soft.”

“No one’s ever described my fingers that way.”

Angelo reached over. Lęina held out her hands.

A shiver ran through her as he touched her fingers, turning them toward the sun.

“Consider it a compliment.”

Lęina stared. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“What was your question?”

Angelo didn’t let go of her hand.

“Do you believe in magic?”

“Do you believe in destiny?” Angelo asked back.

Lęina shook her head. “‘Destiny’ feels too big. Too big to be real.”

“You see this?”

Angelo extended his forearm and pulled up his sleeve, revealing a small bouquet of flowers above his wrist. The thin stems, tied together with a yellow ribbon, crisscrossed against his greenish veins.

“My grandmother was a gardener. Is a gardener. That is what she’d make me say. Her favorite flowers were camellias. She’d plant them every May.”

Lęina held her breath.

This was more than she’d gotten from him before.

Angelo was adept at maneuvering around a question, polite at responding, yet rarely answering.

“The day she died, I passed a tattoo parlor. I had never gotten one before. They all felt too permanent . . .” Angelo tilted his head. “The woman who gave me this had yellow camellias on her bench. A thin bouquet with baby’s breath and thorns. Someone gave them to her that morning. She told me the florist liked her smile.”

Lęina watched Angelo intently as he removed the gas pump and closed his tank. She liked the distant look in his hazel eyes.

It reminded her of rain.

“The artist told me she believed every tattoo she gave was one she was destined to give. I believe that’s magic.”

Angelo took his seat.

“I believe that’s real.”

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