The Reluctant Fortune-Teller

by Keziah Frost

  “You may sit on the ground and pet her like you’re doing now, and be very gentle. You may not pick her up.”

  “I know I know I know already,” roared Angelina, not deigning to look at him. “I know all about dogs. I’m an animal expert.”

  Norbert did not have much opportunity for interacting with children. He was sometimes shocked by their behavior, and more shocked by their parents’ tolerance of it. He reflected that today’s children were so woefully full of self-esteem; he wondered what would become of them.

  Angelina’s mother had caught up by now and was smiling at Norbert, as if to share with him a mutual enjoyment of her daughter’s charm.

  And then, against his instructions, Angelina stood up with Ivy in her arms. As Ivy lurched to lick Angelina’s face, the child reacted in surprise by loosening her hold, and at the same time Norbert reached forward—but he was too late.

  * * *

  Norbert stood waiting in the small antiseptic room with growing dread. There was a discreet knock at the door, and in came the baby-faced vet, Dr. Jennifer Adams, DVM.

  “Hello, Mr. Zelenka.” She shook his hand. Hers felt surprisingly strong, paired with her face. He hoped that she was strong and smart and capable and would save Ivy.

  “Ivy’s doing well. I’ve given her pain medication and she’s resting. Here are the X-rays.”

  She ran her pinkie finger along the shadowy image of Ivy’s right hind leg.

  “As you can see, she has a fracture—unfortunately not unusual in Chihuahuas. They’re a fragile breed. Much more fragile than cats.”

  Dr. Adams laid out the options for Norbert. She could pin the fracture. This would be the best option. Or she could put Ivy’s leg in a cast, which would stay on for six to twelve weeks.

  Norbert felt a squeezing sensation at his heart. He wanted to turn back the clock and prevent the accident. He wanted to feel the delicate weight of Ivy in his arms, stroke her fur and take her home.

  “How much—?” he began. It was so difficult to have to ask the question. He wanted to say, “Pin it,” and not worry about the cost. But the truth was, he wouldn’t be able to pay for this visit, let alone either of the options.

  Dr. Adams gave a soft sigh, and Norbert wondered if she was judging him.

  “To pin it will cost $2,000. The cast option will cost $550.”

  Norbert looked down at his shoes, where they were separating at the soles, and then out the window at the perfect day, which he and Ivy had been enjoying just half an hour before. Dr. Adams followed his gaze to his shoes, and looked back up at his incongruously smiling face.

  He was ashamed of his shoes, and more ashamed that he was powerless to help the one being who loved him and relied on him. He felt inferior to this young veterinarian, who could probably support her pets and pay her bills. The humiliation of this moment stung him. He would not cry. He continued to smile.

  “We can do a payment plan,” she offered. “You can take a few minutes. Ivy’s just relaxing, and she’s not in pain right now. I’ll send Stacy in to explain the payment plan to you, and then you can decide.”

  As he listened to Stacy’s explanation of the payment plan, Norbert found himself considering a pair of elementary school–level word problems, which could be written like this:

  If a fortune-teller earns twenty dollars for a twenty-minute reading, how many readings will he need to do to earn two thousand dollars?

  Answer: One hundred.

  And if that same fortune-teller can do five readings in one day, how many days will it take him to do one hundred readings?

  Answer: Twenty.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Nine of Clubs:

  A period of study and hard work is indicated, if you are to advance in your aims.

  “Close your eyes, Norbert, and just relax. That’s right.”

  Birdie had an open book—We Are All Psychic—on her lap. She was dressed in a long, flowy dress and sandals. She always had a mysterious air about her, as if wrapped in vapor, and listening to the music of distant spheres. Norbert had heard her friends laughingly try to get her attention on many occasions, calling, “Hello, hello, Earth to Birdie. Come back from spirit-land!” And Birdie would start and bring her focus back to the group again. He had observed her over the years and often had the impression that she had some deep secret. She was an unusual lady, and Norbert was curious about her.

  Across the table from Birdie, Norbert sat with his hands resting on Ivy, who was dozing on his lap. Norbert’s attitude toward the arcane had reversed itself ever since he’d brought Ivy—and the veterinary bill—home from Dr. Adams’s. Ivy was now “pinned” by the veterinarian and in perfect form, to the great relief of Norbert—and the Club, as well. Her teeth were also sparkling clean, as the vet had scraped the tartar off them while Ivy was anesthetized for the leg surgery. All that remained of the dreadful accident was the vet bill, still to be paid, in installments. The Club considered themselves qualified to give “psychic lessons,” as they called them, because, as Carlotta noted, they had “studied this stuff in considerable depth in the ’70s.” They’d had fun with astrology, pendulums and mind-reading games, as well as card reading. Carlotta, always brimming with confidence, was convinced that once she’d learned a bit about something, she was qualified to teach it. And the Club lined up behind her, whatever she set her mind to. Norbert sensed that they filled important needs for each other. Carlotta provided the need for adventure and belonging, while the Club provided her with the assurance that she was the leader who would always be important and needed. He enjoyed watching them all together.

  “Now,” intoned Birdie, “let your shoulders drop, and just feeeeel the lovely velvety darkness behind your eyelids. Bring your awareness to the area on your forehead between your eyes. This is your mind’s eye chakra. The poet Rumi says, ‘Close both eyes and see with the other one.’ You will, in the coming days and weeks, feel a growing awareness of what others are thinking and feeling.”

  Carlotta interrupted: “Oh, Birdie, stop being silly.”

  Norbert didn’t think it was silly. He thought it was very pleasant, receiving all this special attention from Birdie while Margaret and Carlotta looked on, all offering opinions at once on how his fortune-telling career was to begin.

  Carlotta took a much less metaphysical approach.

  “Think of it this way, Norbert. You are just reading people, and you are a natural at that. Anyone who has been as quiet and observant as you have must be good at sizing up what people are all about.”

  Norbert started. What did Carlotta see, when she looked at him? While he had been observing others, she had been observing him. It gave him an uncomfortable feeling.

  “Psychics are successful,” continued Carlotta, “because they understand one thing—the human brain is constantly looking for relationships. Your customers will remember everything you guessed right, and they will forget all the misses. This is because people look for patterns and connections. And also, because they want you to be right. Never underestimate that last part.”

  Carlotta seemed to be enjoying her professorial role. She was dressed in cream and black, the picture of taste and professionalism. Norbert couldn’t help admiring her.

  “As it says right here in The Cards Don’t Lie,” Carlotta went on, running a mauve fingernail across the text, “‘Much can be gleaned by observing the querent’s posture and attitude. Notice how your querent approaches the cards. Does he shuffle only as briefly as possible? You have someone who is anxious to get to the point. Likewise, the querent who sits on the edge of his chair is anxious. The person who cuts just a few cards from the top of the deck really doesn’t want to do the reading. Either he is afraid of the answer he will receive, or he is afraid of psychic processes. If his arms are crossed, he is defensive—or else skeptical.’”

  “Oh, Carlotta,” sighed Margaret, like
a bored child, “Norbert can read all this later, when we’re not here. Couldn’t we just practice?” Margaret was wearing a navy dress with white polka dots, belted at the waist. She liked to repeat that polka dots looked good on petite women, and she wore them often.

  Margaret grabbed the deck of cards from the table and, nodding to Carlotta, said, “‘Learn by doing,’ right, Carlotta?” as she split the deck and noisily let the two piles fold into one another.

  “Well, if you’re all so eager to skip the basics,” said Carlotta, with an aggravated sigh. “Norbert, you will just have to study some of this on your own.”

  “There’s no problem there. I enjoy studying,” replied Norbert.

  Carlotta glanced at the rows of Reader’s Digest magazines in his bookcase and pressed her lips together. Norbert suspected her of being a reading snob.

  Norbert set Ivy in her basket in the windowsill, where she huddled, shivering in the gentle June breeze.

  Carlotta was not about to allow Margaret to initiate Norbert into the dark arts. She would do it herself. She grabbed the cards from Margaret. “I’ll read for Norbert,” asserted Carlotta, getting down to business. Handing him the deck, she commanded, “Shuffle.”

  Norbert took the deck and shuffled slowly.

  “Am I supposed to concentrate on something?” asked Norbert. Carlotta smiled to herself; Norbert wanted to do it right.

  “Oh, yes,” recalled Carlotta. “Think about a question you have, or an area of your life for which you need guidance.” She turned to her old friends. “Funny how it all comes back, isn’t it?

  “As you shuffle, I want you to stop and hand me a card, shuffle again, then hand me another one, and I will stop you when we get to the seventh card,” said Carlotta, and her friends nodded approvingly.

  Yes, this was how they did it forty years ago, when Birdie was thirty-three years old, and Margaret and Carlotta were in their forties. The years rolled back, and they felt the old excitement for the occult returning to them. What a good time they had had, consulting the deck for insights and answers as they read for one another. In the intervening years, those interests had been put aside for intellectual pursuits, crafts and finally fine art. Carlotta had never let them stay with anything long enough to get bored with it. But now that card reading was cycling back for them, they met it like an old friend. It had given them hours of fun.

  Carlotta received the cards one by one from Norbert and placed them in the “Horseshoe Spread.” When all seven cards had been placed on the table, Carlotta took the deck from Norbert and began his reading.

  “Believe it or not, I still remember some of these. Let’s see. At the top of the horseshoe, we have the Jack of Clubs. Margaret, would you look that one up?”

  Margaret had already flipped to that page, and her bright eyes were skimming. “Oh! ‘Jack of Clubs—an unremarkable or dark-eyed man’! Norbert! That’s you!”

  Norbert smiled.

  Carlotta said, “Eight of Clubs. That’s a business card, I remember...”

  “Yes! ‘Eight of Clubs—you have a business opportunity. Whether you should accept it or not is unclear, and will depend upon the cards closest to the Eight of Clubs.’”

  Carlotta started, “Well, whatever the cards say—”

  “Ohh!” sighed Margaret. “Look! The Nine of Hearts! Remember the Nine of Hearts? That’s the best card in the deck! We always wanted to get that one!”

  She opened quickly to the page: “‘The Nine of Hearts signifies that your deepest wish will be granted, and in addition, you will receive benefits beyond your deepest wish.’”

  “Oh, my!” said Norbert—pleased, in spite of himself. Norbert wondered what his deepest wish might be. Might he one day find his “snowflake nature”? Even in his seventies?

  “Now,” said Carlotta, “those three cards at the top of the arc are the ones that most closely touch you. The other four cards show important factors that influence your current situation. Here we have the Queen of Diamonds. I remember that’s a strong-willed woman, isn’t it, Margaret?”

  Margaret turned the pages. “‘Queen of Diamonds. A fair-haired woman. Or, alternatively, a controlling woman or a flirt, or one who interferes in the affairs of others.’”

  Everyone looked at Carlotta.

  “I am not a flirt,” she protested.

  “Then,” put in Birdie, tactfully turning everyone’s attention from the Queen of Diamonds, “you have the Four of Clubs. That’s another good card. Popularity, isn’t it, Margaret?”

  “‘Four of Clubs—the querent enjoys growing popularity. He is undoubtedly more well liked than he realizes at present. In the coming times, he will experience a widening sphere of influence.’”

  “Well, Norbert,” said Carlotta, “do you see how it’s done?” She made a reach for the cards, to gather them up.

  “Wait!” exclaimed Margaret. “There are two more cards to read!”

  “Well, I don’t think it’s necessary to read them all. Do you?”

  “What do you mean?” said Margaret, laughing. “‘It’s not necessary to read them all,’” she repeated. “Aren’t the customers going to expect Norbert to read them all? Come on.”

  Carlotta bit her lip.

  Margaret was already reading aloud. “‘Six of Diamonds. Financial security. The querent has the opportunity to earn a satisfactory income and will find that money comes to him more easily now.’”

  Birdie encouraged, “Well, that bodes well for your current enterprise, doesn’t it, Norbert?”

  “It certainly does!” said Norbert. “Margaret, are you really reading what it says in the book? It’s kind of unbelievable, how it all fits so perfectly.”

  “Of course I am, Norbert. You’ll have the book here to study for yourself. It’s always like that—uncanny. I can’t remember why we ever stopped reading cards! It’s amazing!”

  “But,” said Norbert, “there is one more card.”

  They all fell silent, contemplating it.

  It was the Nine of Spades.

  Birdie said, “Oh. Isn’t that the...?” She stopped.

  “The what?” asked Norbert, his eyebrows raised, looking around at the three ladies.

  “The disaster card,” said Margaret in a quiet voice.

  “Oh, fiddlesticks,” said Carlotta. “This is why I wanted to read the book, together, in order, so you would get the full context, and not get worked up about individual card meanings. Now you’re all confused, and I have to straighten you out.

  “First of all, the whole card-reading thing is just for entertainment. I think you’re forgetting that. Remember, Norbert? You don’t believe in psychic things? If the cards seem to ‘fit,’ as you say, Norbert, it’s because the meanings are general, and could fit for a lot of people.

  “Second of all, you always have to consider the spread as a whole, and each card’s influence is mitigated by all the other cards that appear with it.” She pointed at the cards on the table. “The ones that have the greatest influence are the ones closest to the face card that represents the querent.”

  “That is true, about noticing which cards are closest to the querent card,” assisted Birdie. “The Nine of Spades is way down at the end of the horseshoe, far away from the Jack. So maybe it’s a disaster that you will see for a customer, and not one that will happen to you.”

  “Or,” said Carlotta, “it could be that if you don’t take the business opportunity, there will be a disaster. That’s what my intuition says.”

  Norbert’s pleasure had faded. “You are saying there will be a disaster? And that it’s a disaster that might not happen to me? But that means that it might happen to me, then, doesn’t it? What kind of disaster?”

  “Oh,” said Margaret, “now I do remember why we stopped reading cards.”

  A spirit of dismay passed over the Club as they recalled old sc
enes better left forgotten. It had all started out so exciting, with the Nine of Hearts promising everything everyone wanted, and had ended with the Nine of Spades bringing the Club crashing down. There had been card readings that had upset certain people because they hadn’t come true, and other card readings that had upset certain other people because they had. There had been some nastiness about who was more psychically gifted than whom, and there’d been a mighty spiritual competition between Carlotta and a former Club member. All of it was very disagreeable. Several members of the Club had left, claiming that Carlotta was “a bossy, negative energy field.” The Club, however, rose again, through Carlotta’s sheer force of will, and she took the remaining loyal members on through decades of adventures. Margaret and Birdie still remained after all these years. They loved and trusted Carlotta. If she thought it was safe to return to telling fortunes, that was good enough for them.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Two of Spades:

  We are all carrying our own sorrow. Be kind.

  Summer Moon met her grandmother Carlotta for a late lunch kitty-corner to the Art League, at the Mexican Cantina on Quaintance Court. They each looked forward to breaking bread together at least once a week. Summer knew that her grandmother found her youth enlivening, and Summer was often entertained by her grandmother’s machinations. It was a sublime afternoon, and they sat at a Talavera-tiled table on the sidewalk, surrounded by petunias, marigolds and softly pulsing cumbia music. A two o’clock lunch meant that they would get a table without waiting, and not be surrounded by people.

  There was no one left on earth that Summer loved more, and no one she teased as constantly. It was Gramma who had raised her from the age of fifteen, from the night it happened. Nearly ten years ago.

  “So!” began Summer. “Tell me all about your new project. What is your Club up to now?”

  Carlotta clearly enjoyed the effect her words had when she answered, “Oh, well, we are in the process of creating a psychic.”