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As the evening turned into night, and they sat around the coffee table in cosy, matching bathrobes, it was easy to believe that everything was okay. The living room still carried the scent of dinner—home-made pizza—and the dessert of brownies and vanilla ice cream. The dishes were washed up and put away neatly. A quiz show played on the flat-screen TV. Emma splayed her hand on the coffee table when asked, allowing her dear brother to continue his work.
Abel always did have a steadier hand. Perfect for doing her nails. His hair was loose, fluffy, a rare occurrence. Behind soft strands she could see him focus. Noah returned from the kitchen with hot chocolate for all, setting three mugs upon the coffee table.
“Did they get that question about the people in the painting?”
“I’m afraid not,” Emma replied.
“A pity. But I suppose that’s what they- oh wow.” Noah crouched to sit on his knees, arms carefully propped against the table’s surface. “Your nails look great.”
“Don’t they?”
Abel remained in his private bubble, thinking only of the task at hand. His siblings looked to the TV, debating the next quiz question, and when they asked for his opinion he still said nothing. One nail was painted, then the next, repeat. Abel’s mouth pressed into a hard line. He failed to hear Noah’s cough, another means to grab attention, only coming from his daze when fingers softly snapped.
Even then, he wasn’t all there. Dull eyes slowly scanned his audience. “Somethin’ the matter?”
“I believe that’s our question,” Noah answered. “You seem distracted.”
“Oh. I see.” Abel blinked, but didn’t deny it, attending to the final fingernail.
“Is it work?” Noah tried again.
“Work is work.”
“You do too much,” Emma insisted, admiring her nails once Abel finished. “You need to book some time off, I told you.”
“I will, once the deadlines are met.”
Emma and Noah exchanged certain looks, confident that Abel was neither lying, nor about to rush and sort some holiday, either. One major project rolled into the next, Abel was pulled this way and that. It’s why Emma called them over for the weekend, just like old times, hoping that a get-together would ease Abel’s headaches.
At present, very little had changed. He enjoyed the evening in his own, withdrawn way, while Emma proceeded to rack her brain. She’d already settled on a cute cafe for their lunch tomorrow, whereas the evening had yet to be filled. Their go-to would normally be a bar for some drinks, or else several beers on the sofa, and given the circumstances that didn’t feel right. They ought to have a meal followed by something different; somewhere so far removed from Abel’s norm that he might discover peace amidst the novelty.
Inspiration sparked, Emma gasped. She was mindful not to knock her nails. Noah and Abel stared back none the wiser, likely concerned that she’d hurt herself somehow, but then she smiled that smile which did wonders for the soul. A smile so potent they couldn’t refuse.
“I’ve got an idea for tomorrow,” she declared. “All you require is an open mind.”
Abel muttered two words, tarot reading, like they were artefacts emerging from the sands. Noah took to his phone to learn more about the subject, while Emma produced a business card from her purse, and likewise took out her phone to visit its website.
“I first visited with a work friend not too long ago,” she explained. “For them, of course. Not me.”
“And how was it?” Noah asked.
“Insightful—well worth the money.”
That bit caught Abel’s attention. He dared to suspect Emma said it on purpose. Nevertheless this was new. Unknown. His silence was to be expected, alongside the cautious hand which took the business card.
“Aventurina.”
“It refers to aventurine. A gemstone.”
“Ah.” Abel nodded, content. The company appeared to split its trade into sensible halves—part curiosity shop to keep the cash flowing, and private appointments for various services. “And this is where you want us to go?”
“I’ve just booked the evening slot.”
No choice then, the brothers concluded, and so be it. A wise man knew not to mess with Emma, even if her choice in entertainment seemed strange. She relayed a tale of cards with names Abel sort of recognised, and how her colleague had been rescued by this fateful reading.
“The shop name looks to be Spanish or Portuguese,” Noah observed.
“I’m sure the owner’s both, actually.” Emma cocked her head in thought. “His name’s João, nice guy.”
“You’ve visited a few times, then?”
“Enough to be considered a friend.” Emma seemed proud of that admission. “He has a certain charm, a good ear. Attractive too.”
“I told you before, I’m happily single,” Noah defended from behind his phone. “In fact, I dare say we’re both fine. Aren’t we, Abel?”
Going by the quiet, they’d lost him again. Abel continued to study the card in his hold, swept away by green waves which decorated the edges, and the promise of a new experience.
“Are you sure you don’t want the sofa? I’ll be alright sleeping on the floor.”
“S’ fine.” Abel’s attention left the ceiling above, drifting sidewards to find Noah’s stare. In the glow of moonlight everything bore a blue tint; a cool blanket over the scene. “My legs are too long for it, anyway.”
“That is true.” A gentle, well-meant laughter ensued. Noah rolled on his side, pulled his duvet up to his chin, and judging by the sudden squirming he was far from comfortable. “A rug is a poor substitute for a mattress,” he announced, warmed by the faintest snort from his older brother.
“You take the sofa,” Abel insisted.
“Oh, I couldn’t. We must stick together in this-... ah.” Noah shifted again, stopping to flick the hair from his face. Covering one eye was quite enough, it seemed. Covering both became an inconvenience. He flopped and rolled about, tucked some duvet beneath him, and hit his pillow with a soft puff when content.
“Better?” Abel asked.
“Much improved. I recommend it.”
“I’m not sure it’ll help these bones.”
“Abel, please. You sound like Opa Henk when you talk like that, and he’s had both hips replaced.”
“I might need mine done at this rate.”
“You’re only thirty!”
He’d only been twenty once, and the youngest man in the office. In a blink he became thirty and confused. The new recruits made references he didn’t understand, obsessed over their phones and survived on little sleep. The mention of a floppy disk baffled those very same colleagues, and the concept of a portable CD player—as opposed to streaming music—resulted in expressions of pity.
Time had moved, as time was wont to do, and now Abel was neither the fresh-faced innocent blind to life’s financial woes, nor one of the bloated egos who went on too many holidays, owned too many cars, and surely had a PhD in delegation. Instead he was off in the corner—sturdy, safe. He took the calls, filed the reports. Kept things ticking along while someone else took the credit.
Dare Abel say it, he was quietly stagnating. Bland as the ceiling above. During his heavy silence Noah sounded a light cough, a means to coax him away from horrible thoughts. He gave Abel’s side a prod through the duvet afterwards, and one more because he could.
“So, tomorrow.” Noah’s hand retreated. “Aventurina.”
“Aventurina,” said Abel. “Seems... different.”
“It does. It should be fun.”
It should be something, Abel thought. He hoped. For what he needed deep down was change—a blot of colour on the drab canvas people called life.
“Why didn’t either of you sleep on the sofa?”
Abel and Noah walked alongside their sister, adopting a stiff stride that had yet to ease. They’d been urged to do some stretches in the morning, but all through the day their bodies complained. Emma, knowing them far too well, simply rolled her eyes and led them along.
“I’d call you two Opa Henk, but even he moves more than you and he’s-”
“Had both hips replaced,” Abel and Noah finished, reminded of their conversation last night. To that Emma slowed her pace and turned, eyeing each sibling left and right. Boys would be boys, as they say, and men would be boys bumbling in bigger clothes.
“I can’t even be mad,” she sighed and smiled, thus proving her point. “You’re both too polite for your own good, and- no, never mind.” She studied the inky, late-autumn skies, smelling the crisp chill when she drew a calm breath.
Some things would never change, thankfully. Abel and Noah would always stick together through bleak situations, such as sleeping on the cold, hard floor. They certainly bickered from time to time too, doing so via entertaining grumbles, but besides that things between them were great. Better than most siblings could claim, perhaps.
“Just down here,” she guided them on, venturing past a pop-up art gallery of watercolour landscapes, an antiques shop full of floral teapots, silverware and old clocks, to a shop window adorned with ornate gold swirls and stars, and a green hanging shop sign reading Aventurina. The business cast a pleasant glow upon worn cobblestones, a hearth of iron and glass filled with coloured gems and statues, rather than stacks of logs or coal.
There were stories, fuzzy remnants from Abel’s childhood, where secret paths could be found at the back of a fireplace. One only needed to push and the wall would yield, revealing a brick path to some place strange and fascinating. The shop felt akin to one of those fireplaces, except at the back there was no wall to push, but rather a man surely favoured by the sun with his healthy complexion. He’d emerged from a door, another room, attentive to a pair who dipped their heads in thanks, before filtering out into the dark street.
After that he angled away, tugged the band from long hair, and carded fingers through like a brush. His intentions were to be free, rather than tidy. A man embodying a genuine glow. When Emma walked in he shone brighter, sincere; the retail facade tossed aside as he offered a deep bow.
And then Abel remembered himself. Their purpose. A chill found the spot between gloves and cuff, dragging him from thoughts like an insect prized from thick sap. Noah stood at a loss upon the first step, clearly having done his best to grab Abel’s attention, but nothing worked like the fluid turn of a wrist and the gentle go on, I’ve got this. Nothing hooked him like the tip of a head and falling waves of dark hair, nor the stare which received him as kindly as the uneven smile.
“It’s cold out here, you know.”
Yes, Abel supposed it was. He sniffed and looked about, taken by the strange scent teasing through the air.
“That’s the incense.”
Abel hummed, glancing to the hand which extended in greeting. The thick leather of his gloves almost swallowed bare skin as he completed the handshake.
“My name’s João.”
“I’m-”
“Abel.” Eyes curved in line with the smile. Glowed as much as the smile did too. João glimpsed their hands, Abel’s grip still firm. “Your sister mentioned you. Noah too.”
“I see.”
João tipped his head towards the door. “Come inside. I’ll give you a tour.”
Abel thought the description overused on most occasions, but there really was no place quite like Aventurina—not in his world of white walls and white desks, anyway. Even his home couldn’t compare to the shop; a literal trove of antique books and candles, and peculiar trinkets he did not know. The floorboards bowed slightly underfoot, distressed like the shelves, the cupboards and the counter. João stood with thumbs hooked in the pockets of faded trousers which tapered into tall boots, and a linen shirt fit for the period works beloved by Abel’s siblings.
João embodied his brand, the mystery, and no doubt stepped into the streets in such garb without a care. He would wait for a tram amidst the sea of hoodies and jeans, or wander the supermarket aisles toying with the laces of his shirt, uncaring that they were loose and revealing his wares.
João also embodied the ‘different’, the bold; everything Abel thought he once might be were it not for the system tethering him down. João ran Emma and Noah through the abundance of crystals great and small, from bracelets to beasts of stone which would cost a fortune, while Abel paced a simple path from the entrance to the opposite wall, peeling gloves away to feel the grain of worn furnishings as he went.
“Did you want the usual reading, or...?”
Abel only half listened, a habit as of late, except he did so in a comforting daze. The low light and incense played their part to perfection, luring him into a state where the sight of a taxidermy crow inspired a fascinated huh.
“Ah, I see you’ve found His Grace.”
The unseen veil dispersed to make way for clarity. João referred to the crow stood proud on his perch.
“Silas Seacombe, Duke of Aventurina,” he announced. “A gracious gift from my brother-in-law.”
“You mean Arthur?” Emma asked, rewarded by a hum syrup-sweet on the ear.
“The very same,” João confirmed. “And for that, I'll give you a gift. There’s a drink with your name on it when we’re finished—and one for your brothers as well.”
“Special occasion?” she teased.
João laughed deep, taken by her response. “I appreciate it when people pay attention, that's all. And with that said—” he flipped the 'open' sign to 'closed', then nodded to the room at the back of the shop “—shall we press on?”
“You have no other appointments?”
“I saved the best for last.” João opened the door, signalling for the siblings to enter.
The Reading Room, appropriately named in every sense, was adorned in a fashion not unlike that of the main shop floor. The sole exception was the small walnut table and chairs where João conducted his trade, and the grand green chaise lounge surrounded by books, and hefty church candles mishapen through use. Abel took up the chaise lounge, fixated by the wax. A gentle cough stopped his temptation to peel it away. He turned his attention to the velvet seat instead, as green as the detail of the shop’s business card, or lidded eyes which found him now and then between card explanations.
Heavy drapes and low light hugged the room; a cocoon where guests came to find reason. Meaning. João’s audience of two—Emma and a keen Noah—followed every word with nothing less than intrigue. Sometimes they ahh’d because a card made sense, relatable to some situation, and other times they listened, hands cupped to their jaws, while João served as a lantern through the fog of their minds.
And then it was done. Chairs scraped the floor. Abel came to from the cosy depths of his trance. He breathed in spices and wood, pat the wool of his long coat, surprised when Emma and Noah chose to block his exit.
“We’re not quite done.”
“You’d like to look at the shop?” Abel nodded to the door.
“We will,” Emma referred to herself and Noah. “You stay here. It’s your turn.”
“To do what?”
Abel would never know. Not from Emma, at least. He watched them turn and filter out into the shop, punctuated by the soft click of the door pulled shut behind them. After that only a light tap—skin on wood—brought him back. He peered over his shoulder to the little varnished table, and the cards set neat in a pile.
“Sit,” said João. “Let’s talk.”
“About what?”
João propped his chin in a hand, welcoming Abel as he sat despite his question. Without Emma and Noah, all that Abel really knew inside of the room, he felt like the gutted fish of the morning markets. A vulnerability dared to creep in, he pulled his coat about him when João reached for the cards.
“Most come to me with a query, but we'll play this differently.” João shuffled cards and fanned them out face down. "Take your pick, Abel.”
“You didn’t do this before.”
“When you're ready,” João encouraged. Abel saw sense to obey, pinched a card, pulled it out. João intervened soon after to set it down and flip over, revealing a bearded figure in robes which provoked a soft snort.
“Something wrong?” Abel pried.
João shook his head. “The Hermit. I should’ve known. It’s a card for introspection, soul-searching, along with other interpretations of course, but...” He paused to study Abel’s face. “You know what, I've changed my mind.” He returned the card to its deck and put the pile to one side, fetching a thin velvet cushion for the centre of the table. “Your hand, please. Face up, so I can see it.”
Abel considered the command, flexing fingers. He saw no reason to refuse. The change of approach called for chairs to move closer. The table felt smaller—the gap between them non-existent. From there Abel could map every stretch of muscle on João’s exposed neck, and catch the hints of coconut from dark waves pooling over his shoulder.
“You read palms too,” said Abel. João angled his head to focus.
“Some clients prefer it to the cards.”
“I don’t recall stating any preference.”
Abel traced the faint bulge in João’s throat when he swallowed. João fussed with shirt laces hanging in his way, tugging the fabric to expose his collarbone. “You didn’t strike me as the type,” he reasoned, following a line between Abel’s thumb and index finger. “I have an eye for these things. For people.”
“Indeed. My sister spoke fondly of you.”
“There's nothing going on,” João blurted, inadvertently revealing a history of those who had jumped to conclusions, and caused all manner of trouble for him and his business. “She visited here with a work friend at first. Then she’d come to shop, or for readings of her own and-”
“It’s alright, I believe you. She’s not that way inclined.”
"Oh, okay. That helps, honestly." João's fingertip had shifted out of place. He quickly returned to the line he’d been searching. “She’s a good person. In fact, you all are.”
Abel hummed. “You really do have an eye for people. Which makes me wonder: what else do you see?”
João traced the same line once more, then again a bit slower. He inhaled through his nose and lifted his head, drawn to their lips so close to one another. “I see that you’re exactly as Emma proclaimed: a man who does not place faith in the stars or unseen powers. You believe in what you can feel—” his fingertip drew a circle “—and you have... if I may be so bold...”
“Go on,” Abel responded, fidgeting when it came out needier than intended. "I mean to say-"
“There it is,” João laughed.
“There’s what?”
The answer came in the form of touch; in gentle fingers holding Abel's jaw. João’s thumb brushed back and forth across his cheek. “You possess a hunger, Abel, and don’t deny it. I’ve never seen a man quite as honest as you during one of my sessions. Although perhaps that’s because you can’t hide your feelings to begin with.”
It was Abel’s turn to force down a lump, but when he did João didn’t tease. Instead the thumb kept moving; tender, promising. The canvas in his head became vibrant, alive—blossoming with greens like the eyes transfixed upon him.
"I don't mind at all," João said, as if his actions hadn't confirmed that much already. "However, back to this. To the reading."
“I respect what you do, even if I don't get it."
“I know.” João slipped into a new number; a smile just for Abel which revealed crow’s feet. “Much as I know that you’re tired with work. You need a break.”
Those last four words tensed Abel's frame. His gut writhed up in dread. “What has Emma told you?"
“I’m not about to reveal my client’s discussions. But that being said—” João scanned the room, his focus back on Abel’s wet stare soon after “—there have been occasions. Mentions of you. She worries and I can’t say I blame her, but I’m a brother myself so I get your side too. You don’t want to burden your siblings, do you?”
“It’s difficult,” Abel conceded, leaning into the tender touch. “And it’s-...”
“I know," João repeated.
“But I don’t, and that’s the problem.” Abel squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the same thumb brush over his damp cheekbone. “If I take a break from work I’ll fall behind, but if I continue to work I-!”
“This isn’t working.”
A chill hit Abel akin to the streets. He yearned for João's touch the moment it was gone. Abel turned on his chair to voice a stuttered sorry, frantic until João paced to his side with arms outstretched, bringing Abel into an embrace.
Everything was a lot, yet enough. Abel hid his face in João’s neck and returned the hold, shuddering on breaths and attempts to form words. “It’s alright,” João soothed by his ear, weaving fingers in the back of short hair. “You can let go here. I’ve got you.”
"I don't know what to do."
"You don't have to, not yet."
"But if I can't figure things out-"
"It will still be okay. I promise."
A hand roamed Abel's back. Arms hugged a bit tighter, keeping him safe. Abel clung to João like a lifeline, calmed by the press of a kiss to his temple.
It felt like hours had passed, and Emma’s rare frown supported that belief. Thankfully the reality was shorter, forty minutes. “Not too bad for a first timer,” João added on that note, returning his tarot deck to a locked unit behind the counter. “You three are welcome any time, I mean it. I yearn for inquisitive, sensible minds, as opposed to the... curiosities which wander through my door."
"Sounds like even you have bad days," Noah sympathised.
"I do," João confessed. "But I digress. Business is business, I shouldn’t complain.”
“You may when we’re around,” Noah offered next. João sent him a wink and wagged a finger in approval. Emma saw to the till meanwhile—apparently regular and friend enough to know the precise in and outs of how João closed his own shop—leaving Abel near the front by Silas the crow.
“It seems a strange gift to me, much as he does fit the shop,” Emma remarked. "Arthur's an interesting man."
“Arthur is what he is,” João responded. “And my brother is besotted with whatever that might be.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Indeed, lucky them. But lucky us too—” João strode with purpose, sifting through a selection of stones housed in wooden compartments. Upon choosing three he came to Emma, then Noah, and at last set a cool green gem in Abel’s palm. “Aventurina, Aventurine, is thought to be a stone of good fortune. It's worked well so far as the namesake of my shop.”
“How much?” Abel asked, earning a soft laugh. João gently curled Abel’s fingers around the stone.
“For you three, nothing. I insist. Although I will accept a glass of wine at the bar after this.”
That sounded fair, Abel snorted. The humour tickled João as well. He looked to his hand still cupped around Abel’s, bearing a pleasing hint of red upon his collarbone and cheeks.
“Thank you, for this,” said Abel. And for everything else, he conveyed through the pause. Although Abel had yet to understand tarot, gemstones and palm reading, he knew he could believe in the man who’d simply held him, listened and cared. “I’ll take ones of these, then—” he swiped a business card from the nearby display, despite still carrying the one Emma gave him “—I should like to learn more about your readings.”
“By all means.” João beamed. “I’ll be here if you need me. And not just for the readings.”
Abel nodded, smiling back. “Thank you."