THAT NIGHT
Andy and I leave the Stage together and head to my car, but we pass a little shop on Orange Avenue with a flashing sign advertising tarot and palm readings. Andy stops in front of it and says, “What do you say, Frenchie, adventurous one? Do you want to know your future?”
“I don’t know. It’s always seemed like such a scam to me,” I say. “I mean, don’t you think whatever they say, you have the power to change? You could leave there and do the opposite of what they say, so then what’s the point?”
“I don’t know. I figure some things are gonna happen no matter what,” he says. “Come on, let’s check it out.”
“I dunno. Aren’t you scared you’ll go in there and she’ll tell you something horrible? Like you’re going to get in an accident or die?” I say.
“I guess I’m the kind of person who would want to know,” he says.
“Fine,” I say. Andy reaches for my hand and I catch my breath as his fingers lace with mine. He opens the door and the sound of wind chimes fills the air.
As soon as we walk in, I smell an overwhelming variety of incense. There’s a ton of wind chimes hanging all over and rows and rows of weird knickknacks, incense burners, crosses, and books. We’re the only ones in the tiny store.
A woman with long black hair peppered with gray comes out from behind a curtain.
“Good evening,” she says. “Can I help you two?”
I look over at Andy. This is his idea, his adventure.
“Uh, is this where we can get a reading?”
“Yes, yes, of course. It’s ten dollars for a palm reading, fifteen for tarot, and twenty for psychic,” says the woman.
I look at Andy. “Forget it,” I tell him. Like I need to pay twenty dollars to be told I’m going to die.
“We’ll take a psychic reading. Each,” he says and pulls a hundred dollar bill from his pocket. “My treat,” he says to me as the woman goes to the register.
“What the hell?” I say. “Do you always carry that much money with you?”
“Not always.”
The woman returns with Andy’s change, and then goes to the door and flips the sign from OPEN to CLOSED.
“You,” Andy says to me.
“Me? Why not you?”
“Just go,” he says, and since the old woman is standing there waiting on one of us, I shake my head and say, “Fine.”
The woman smiles and tells me to follow her. She leads me through the curtains, and to a little room with a table and two chairs. She tells me to sit down, and then she sits across from me.
“Try to relax,” she says. “I will tell you what I see. I will tell you good and bad.” I get nervous when she says this. What if she gives me an age? An actual age? The psychic asks me for my hand, which I offer slowly. She puts her hands over my open palms, closes her eyes, and takes some deep breaths. I look at her wrinkled hands, almost translucent and covered with brown age spots. I look at her face, deep in concentration, and wonder if I should also close my eyes. But I want to catch any change in her expression, so when she feels sorry for me and lies by telling me I have a bright future, I’ll know it’s not true. She opens her eyes and looks at me.
“I sense you are an old soul,” she says. “You have been on this earth before. You have had many lives. You are a wise, creative individual.” She closes her eyes again. “But you will lose your focus. Something will happen and the uncertainty you already feel will multiply tenfold.”
She opens her eyes again and looks straight at me, “I worry for you.”
Now I know the one thing you don’t want a psychic to say to you is, “I worry for you.” My stomach drops. What the hell is she seeing?
She continues with, “I sense darkness around you. I sense . . . emptiness.”
Does this woman have anything good to tell me?
“You are looking for direction in your life right now. You have blurry plans. And something or someone unexpected will have a great impact on them,” she says, looking straight at me. “It will throw you and your plans into much confusion.”
She sighs. “I sense you will have much to overcome in the near future. You will begin to question many things,” she says. “But you are capable of making wise decisions. And you are quite sensitive, which means you feel deeply, more than most, and sometimes your feelings can overwhelm you.” She looks at me as if that should settle it. “Do you have any questions?”
Do I have any questions? Uh, yeah. What the hell kind of reading was that?
But instead I say no because I’m trying to remember everything she said, but I can already feel it slipping away since it mostly sounded like a riddle.
“Okay,” she says and waits. I assume this is my cue to get up, but then she says, “Close your eyes.”
I do.
“Think on something, something you wish,” she says.
Maybe I should be wishing for a long life. Maybe I should try and think of myself as old and happy, but I can’t. All I can think of is Andy sitting outside this room and what it would feel like to kiss him tonight. So I think on that as she holds my hands, and when she lets go and tells me I can open them again, I’m sorry I’m not thinking of that kiss anymore. She stares at me. I want to ask her if my wish will come true, but she looks at me with sad eyes. She says, “Some wishes are meant to come true. Others are not. You will be fine.” This sends such a wave of disappointment through me. I wish I hadn’t agreed to do this. I think this is my cue to get up. I do and she says, “Send in . . . your boyfriend?” she asks.
I shake my head, “He’s just a friend.” So much for being a psychic.
“Oh,” she says. “That’s . . . good.” I nod and thank her, though I don’t know why since she just told me my life is going to suck.
I go through the curtain and spot Andy. “Your turn.” I tell him.
“How was it?” he asks.
“Weird,” I say.
Fifteen minutes later, and he’s still not out. I wonder if I took this long. My reading only felt like two minutes. Probably because I am going to die young and the poor woman had to make some stuff up on the spot. After all, a psychic wouldn’t tell you you’re going to die soon, would she? But if that’s what she saw, a warning would have been nice.
A few minutes later, Andy comes out.
“So,” I ask, “what’d she say to you?” The psychic walks out behind him with a strange expression on her face.
“You really want to know?” he asks as we head outside.
“Of course.”
“She said I’m going to die tomorrow,” he says.
“Yeah, right. Me, too,” I say and laugh.
The sound of wind chimes cuts through my laughter, and when I look back I see the old woman standing by the door, looking down the street at us.
“Remember,” she calls. “You can make your own future.” She points one crooked finger at Andy.
Andy stares at her and then turns away. “Scam,” he says to me.
