Twenty-Six
Asking for help was easy when I wasn’t asking for myself. Every fortune-teller was missing a red thread but, without a doubt, Aunt Evelyn’s match was Girard. By helping them get together, I might bring some happiness back to my aunt’s life. I believed she still loved him. That was all the justification I needed.
“Normally, I’d say no,” Marc said. “I’ve seen setups go sour, but this is different. He’s already miserable and making it difficult for everyone at the restaurant. It’s worth a shot.”
“Thank you.”
“What is my assignment?” he asked.
“Find out what you can about Girard and Evelyn. Someone must know something about what happened between them.”
Marc laughed. “It’s not going to be easy, but I think I know who to ask. With everyone at work being on edge, there’s bound to be some loose lips. When do I report back?”
“Since you’re working, how about tomorrow for breakfast?” I asked.
“Tomorrow won’t work. How about the day after? It gives me more time to gather info. There’re a few people I need to talk to.”
“Okay. The day after tomorrow.”
I lingered too long, staring at his dark eyes and his lips. I missed him and his company.
He smiled and whispered, “Do you want something else?”
“Yes, a kiss.”
Marc took the cookie box from my hands, and with his other arm drew me into a tight embrace. I threaded my fingers through his soft, dark hair. A playful breeze swept around us as our lips met, sweeping the tendrils of my hair upward, curling the ends into perfect waves.
The gust brought the street to a quiet standstill as a sea of pink petals wafted overhead. The breeze tickled the nearby magnolia trees, shaking loose even more petals to collect in the aerial, floral bridal train. Everyone’s eyes, including ours, traveled upward to watch the petals fall. I smiled when I heard the delighted giggles of nearby children.
Marc plucked a stray petal from my hair. “I almost feel bad for the denuded magnolia trees.”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“You are, yes.”
I made my way back to the tea shop before my aunt could send out a search party. I’d been gone too long, but I had a good excuse.
Marc.
He didn’t blame me for the prediction—he wanted to see me again.
If there was hope for me, there was also hope for Aunt Evelyn and Girard. Dabbling in setups was a fun addition to my aunt’s curriculum. I had a feeling today’s lessons would be more challenging than yesterday’s. My teacher was determined to have me do something I’d never done before.
I stepped into the tea shop, uttering a string of apologies to my aunt.
“One more minute and I would have called your phone. Then I saw the snowfall of magnolia petals.” A weak smile tugged at her lips. “When will I meet Marc?”
I laughed and handed her the box of madeleines. “I’ll schedule something soon.”
“Enjoy every moment of it while it lasts.” A somber tone entered her voice. “This city breathes fairy tales. Romance runs through its cobblestones, builds its beautiful palaces, and fuels the stone guardians overlooking the skyline. It’s so easy to fall in love, but to stay in love?”
My aunt kept dropping hints of a tragic romance, but it was never enough to piece together a coherent narrative. If she hadn’t said a word, I wouldn’t be so tantalized with the infinite possibilities of what could have happened. The aunties back home never suspected a thing until the sale of the Victorian.
“What was your time in Paris like?” I asked. “You mentioned you stayed in the city before.”
“I had studied French in college. It was only natural I visit. Spending my days in this city changed me.” My aunt busied herself arranging the madeleines on a large plate. Afterward, she moved to the sink and turned the tap on full, shutting down any avenues for further discussion.
I puckered my lips into a grimace at her reticence. She accused me of being stubborn, yet her current maneuver was equivalent to the childish tactic of covering one’s ears and singing to drown out all noise. I tried it once with Ma when I was five. She let me live, providing I wouldn’t ever do it again.
Aunt Evelyn seemed preoccupied with washing every piece of the tea service. Twice. When she was done, she rearranged the jars behind the counter while brewing the second tea sample for the day. She poured me a cup. “Oolong. A refreshing blend of white peach and eucalyptus.”
I took the tea and sipped it. The combination of the minty edge and the bright citrus of the peach was soothing. My aunt was passionate about tea, and it showed in the complex flavor profiles of her blends. She enjoyed discovering new ingredients.
“As no one else is here, you shouldn’t get a prediction.” She wiped an invisible crumb from the counter. “The trick today is to have one without the tea.”
I responded with a cheerful smile and hoped I could do what she had asked of me. “Do you have any tips on how this is supposed to happen?”
“I can tell you how it happens for me, but I don’t know if it will be the same for you.” She cupped her chin and furrowed her brow. “Relax and let it come to you. It should be painless. Aunt Charlotte told me that reaching a state of serenity is ideal. You want to be the perfect conduit.”
“So wait for it to come to me?”
“Yes. This is supposed to be natural. Exposure to the customers coming in today should help you. You can’t see futures without the people they are tied to.” Aunt Evelyn walked to the door and unlocked it. She held the sign. “Are you ready?”
I straightened the collar of my blouse as a slight tremble constricted my fingers.
Moments after my aunt unlocked the door, a young couple strolled in with their son. The father, with light brown hair, carried a backpack, which his wife rummaged through. She withdrew a small plastic container full of tiny animal crackers and shook the tub at her son. The little boy streaked around the shop with wobbly legs, giggling, and smearing his hands on every glossy surface. Judging by his unsteady gait, he must have been close to two. My cousin Farah had a toddler close to the same age. The bursts of energy from her child were in direct correlation to the dark smudges under her eyes that Korean makeup couldn’t conceal.
When the boy ran to the windowsill where the flower vases were, I rushed forward to prevent one from being pulled down. His parents chastised him for the action while his bottom lip quivered. Fat tears spilled down his rounded, reddened cheeks. He pointed at the peonies. One rose above the others, its long stem stretching closer to the small, outstretched fingers.
I glanced over at my aunt and caught her slight nod. With her approval, I plucked a puffy, white blossom and offered it to him.
His unabashed squeal of delight caused us all to laugh. He buried his face in its petals and clutched the stem in his hand. Having won his prize, he took his mother’s hand while snacking on the animal crackers.
I returned to my place behind the counter and tried to clear my head. Once my mind was empty, I waited for a prediction to come to me as my aunt instructed. My tongue searched inside my mouth for the elusive taste, the telltale formation of any prophecy.
Nothing.
My aunt’s vague directions left me scrambling to produce a result.
So far, the only thing I could taste was failure.
By the time the family left, I resisted the urge to cover my face with my hands.
“Did you see something?” Aunt Evelyn asked.
“I didn’t.”
She frowned. “They were here for a while. Are you sure your mind is clear?”
“Yes. Auntie, I didn’t see anything. I did what you asked, but no prediction.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Focus is hard. If you can’t reach a certain level of meditation, you won’t see anything.”
The creeping frustration in her voice annoyed me. I was trying, but quarrelling with my aunt wouldn’t help me see a prophecy. “Can’t we just go back to the tea? We know that works.”
“That isn’t an option. You can’t rely on that, Vanessa.”
I exhaled and kept my breathing steady. Aunt Evelyn walked to my side and placed her hand on my arm. “You will have plenty of opportunity to try again today. Focus and I’m certain that by the end of the day, you’ll get this.”
As if on cue, a busload of German tourists entered the shop. I assisted my aunt with their orders, taking down the specific glass jars she needed and helping pack purchases into printed lavender paper bags. All the while, I kept myself open and clear for any predictions to come to me. I searched for one around every tooth in my mouth, hoping it was hiding and all it needed was a gentle prod.
Nothing.
Despite her preoccupation with the customers, Aunt Evelyn managed to sneak in a quizzical look in my direction. Her glances increased with every ring of the cash register, as did the tempo of her elegant pumps tapping the wood floor. Clairvoyance wasn’t required to sense her growing impatience.
When the group cleared out, she leveled her gaze at me. “There were twelve people that passed through here. Surely you saw something.”
“I tried, Auntie.” I rubbed my temples. “This is new territory for me. I don’t know if this is possible.”
“Of course it’s possible. Many women before you have done this—for hundreds of years.” She paused, and closed her eyes. “I don’t understand why your gift behaves the way it does.” She started pacing parallel to the counter. The click of her brisk steps echoed in the empty store. Aunt Evelyn was taking in my failure as her own.
“I’m kind of behind. Think of me as the mature student,” I said with a nervous laugh.
“There’s nothing amusing about this. You haven’t gotten a vision. I’m worried you won’t. You should have seen something. It didn’t have to be specific or important. I’d accept a weather report at this point.”
“But it’s not like I’ve lost my power. I can do it if you let me have the tea.”
“You said you wanted control. You’re not in control if your predictions are at the whim of what you drink. You can’t have control if you refuse to change. Predictions are a part of you. You are clairvoyant. We’re special.”
I kept silent. I didn’t want to tell her that I didn’t see it the way she did. I wanted control, but not as an investment in becoming a better fortune-teller.
“If only you saw something. It would mean we’re on the right path in your education.”
I made the decision then. I wanted to ease her fears and to show that there was still hope.
“I mean, I might have seen something,” I lied.
A hanging light fixture fell from overhead, striking my shoulder before shattering on the floor. It happened so fast that I almost didn’t feel it. I stared at the spot where the glass fell, unsure of what had happened, when my brain registered the pain. My hand pressed against the growing soreness. The sound of a crash echoed in my ears alongside the phantom noise of squealing tires.
“Vanessa!” My aunt rushed to my side and checked my shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Bits of glass and fragments glittered in the sunlight streaming through the shop windows. The pattern of particles traced out skid marks from tire treads, down to the grooves and ruts running in parallel.
She finished her examination. “Nothing’s broken. You will get a bruise later though. You’re lucky it missed your head. If you had been standing an inch in the wrong direction, it could have been catastrophic.”
“Auntie, I’m sorry. I lied.”
I had broken one of the cardinal rules of fortune-telling. My shoulder throbbed.