by Calinda B
“We’ll get to the bottom of this. You’re probably just not used to dating other people. You’ll get the swing of it.”
“Go the fuck away, Jason! We’re through.”
Jason put his palms up. “I’ve got the message. Space you want, space you’ve got. I’ll check in with you later. I want to know how intense this date was. You’ll feel better after you walk. Later, baby-doll. Happy birthday, by the way.” He sauntered up to the low fence defining the yard, vaulted over the fence, and disappeared.
“We’re done,” she yelled to his retreating form.
As Marissa made her way out into the forest, she relaxed. What an idiot, she thought. “Oh, just thought I’d stop by and say hi at five in the morning and give you your birthday gift,” she muttered. “You, the woman who broke up with me yesterday. Give me the report on your date, baby-doll.” She brushed her hands together vigorously and shook her hands in an effort to free herself of her dark mood. Breathing deeply, she took off at a trot, heading for her favorite place – the place she called her Thinking Pond.
The tree-lined pond was like heaven itself. It was a place of solace. She picked her way to the edge of the fern-ringed pond, settled on a damp, flat boulder at the edge, and unclipped Sober’s leash. “Go play.” The Doberman waded into the pond and took several noisy slurps of water before bounding away.
She lay back and let her gaze wander into the light morning sky. Low morning fog was clearing like a soft blanket being pulled back by gentle hands, revealing vast blue sheets. Her gaze lingered until the fog was mostly gone, letting the sky’s daily ritual clear her head. “That’s better,” she stated. Her headache was subsiding.
She rolled onto her belly and let her fingertips swirl the cold, dark, water. Her reflection shimmered and wavered, staring back at her. The sunlight glinted through the trees, lighting up her eyes. It gave her an animated expression as if the light was coming from within her soul. She withdrew her hand and stared.
As the liquid stilled, the image of a different face peered through her reflection. An icy chill wound into her chest. It’s that same woman. The woman I keep seeing in my mind. Her hair was dark blond, her eyes were green, and her expression was somber. Marissa squinted at the reflection, cocking her head. “What do you want?” she whispered, a biting sense of foreboding snaking into her belly.
In the distance, Sober barked and the dark chill vanished. Probably squirrels, she thought. He had a thing for cornering squirrels. They usually chattered at him from their perches until he gave up and raced away.
The surface stilled, and the watery image seemed to be mouthing something. The chill in her heart resumed. “What are you saying? I don’t understand you,” Marissa said. A breeze ruffled the pond, disturbing the surface.
When the pond resumed a state of calm, Marissa propped on her hands and scrutinized the image, peering through her own reflection. It was hard to discern one face from the other. The female face again mouthed some word. “Help? Are you asking for help?” She reached her index finger toward the reflection. The reflection reached back. She withdrew her finger and then extended it again. When it got close to the surface of the pond, a snap of lighting crackled from her fingertip. “Gah!” Both reflections dissolved and a different image appeared. This face looked sinister, making her skin crawl. The black eyes seemed to bore right through her. A frigid chill, far colder than the last one, flashed through her body as if a blade of frozen titanium sliced through her skin, causing the blood to instantly coalesce into ice crystals. This is evil. Pure, unadulterated evil. Every nerve stood at high alert. And the cold…it spread through her system, like she was in one of those time lapse movies where her blood formed polar ice caps at super-fast speed.
Her chest compressed with the cold and she struggled to breathe. Her exhalation came out in icy puffs. Gasping and wheezing, her hands flew to her neck. Dread whipped her head back and forth like she was a weathervane in a windstorm. What’s going on? What’s happening to me? Her chest heaved, seeking breath, seeking life.
Vaguely catching the crackles of breaking branches, her eyes darted wildly, searching for the intruder. Someone’s going to kill me. Someone’s going to… Sober Dober sailed through the underbrush and landed in the pond with a mighty splash.
The cold immediately cleared, and she sucked air hungrily into her lungs. She rolled from the stone and landed on the wet grass on her back. Sober trotted out of the pond, cold droplets flying. He paused and shook, spraying Marissa with water. He licked her face with his messy, slurpy tongue. “Thank God you arrived.” She grabbed his neck and hauled herself up to sitting. “What the hell just happened?” Sober took another slurpy swipe at her face. “Okay, okay, I’m alright. I’m going to have to name you Demon Slayer. What the hell was that?” She picked herself up, brushed the debris from her pants, picked leaves from her hair, and retrieved Sober’s leash. Clipping the leash on the dog’s collar once more, she made her wobbly legged way back to her house. Maybe, just maybe, there’s something to what Daniel had said. Just not the part about me…
Chapter 6
When Marissa arrived at work, Crazy Betty sat at the front desk, as usual. Crazy Betty seemed as old as the brick building housing PS Publishing. She’d probably worked there since the beginning of time. Her real name was Betty Worthington, but everyone called her Crazy Betty – just not to her face.
Betty grew up in the hills of Virginia – the App-uh-latch-a’s, as she called them. “I’m hillbilly, and I’m not ashamed,” she often liked to say. She had been a chain smoker for much of her life and coughed like her body still heaved up tobacco memories, drank whiskey straight up on Friday nights, and spoke with a Southern drawl. Her sagging, wrinkled skin reminded Marissa of a Galapagos tortoise face. Her job was to answer the phones, but when the phone wasn’t ringing, she could usually be found spreading Tarot cards out along the counter for customers. She claimed to have “the sight.”
“Good morning, child,” she said, looking over the tops of her red polka dot reading glasses. Her deep, gravelly voice tumbled from her mouth like sand over wet pebbles.
“Morning, Betty.”
“You look different this morning. What happened?”
“What do you mean?” Marissa stepped around the blond wood front counter, heading for the back, where her desk was.
“My little Buddy did the strangest thing last night.” Betty’s elder-mind drifted from topic to topic like she was finding her way through a conversation, stepping along stones and the occasional log to get to the other side of a creek.
“What did your Chihuahua do?” Marissa paused at the door to the back office.
“He chased Pumpkin around the yard, something he hasn’t been able to do for years.” She hacked and coughed, reaching for the handkerchief she kept tucked in her bosom.
“It’s summer. Maybe he just felt good.”
“No, lord, no, I think his time is coming. I think he was chasing the Grim Reaper away, saying that he’s not ready to go just yet.”
“You said he was chasing the cat.”
“The Reaper probably disguised himself as the cat to make Buddy feel at ease. He can do that, you know.” She gave Marissa a rheumy-eyed glare.
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“What did you do to yourself? You look different.”
“It was my birthday yesterday. I turned 26.”
“Lord, lord, happy birthday, child! Come give Betty a squeeze.”
Marissa stepped gingerly over to the elderly woman.
Betty folded Marissa into a cloud of sour sweat, fresh-baked cookies, old-lady cologne and oodles of warmth, patting her back like she was a baby. She released Marissa and picked up her cards, tapping them on the counter. “Let’s see what the spirits have to say about your birthday.”
“Um, I should probably get my day started.”
“This will only take a minute. Twenty-six is a big year.” Tap, tap, tap. “That’s the year I met my second husband. My first died in a logg
ing accident. The second, lord, he was with me for quite a while. Gave me three fine children. Did you know that?” Her gnarled fingers shuffled the deck.
“Yes, you told me,” Marissa answered. Many times- Mary, Gary, and Frank.
Tap, tap, tap. “Twenty-six is a big year,” the old woman repeated. “It’s the year you get your own face.”
“What?”
“It’s the year you get your own face. Or maybe that’s next year. I forget. Up until now you’ve been wearing the face of your parents.”
“What does that mean? My parents have been dead for years.”
“It means just that.” Tap, tap, tap. “Just because they’re dead, doesn’t mean you haven’t been wearing their faces.” Tap, tap, tap. “Oh, lord, Buddy! I’m going to miss that dog.”
“The dog hasn’t left you yet.”
“He will, child, he will. He’ll be heading towards Heaven by the end of this week, mark my words.” Tap, tap, tap. She laid the deck of cards on the counter. “Cut the cards, dearie.”
Marissa picked up half the cards and set them next to the other pile.
Betty placed the closest pile on top and deftly plucked a first, a second, then a third card out, laying them along the counter. As she pulled the third card, a fourth came with it. “Oh! Your outcome is unclear. Or blessed. All Major Arcana. This is big.”
“Which one is it?”
“Shhh. Wait, child. I’m listening to the spirits.” She cocked her head to the side and let her eyelids fall. Her mouth parted, and her breath came out like bottomless wheezes bubbling up from a deep well.
After a few minutes had passed, Marissa wondered if the old woman had fallen asleep. She shuffled from foot to foot, uncertain what to do. Slowly, she turned the doorknob to the back office.
Betty’s eyes popped open. “Buddy’s going to meet his maker, I can feel it. Did I ever tell you how Buddy came into my life?”
“Yes, I think you did, Betty.”
“He’s been such a good companion to me. He’s got the strength of all my husbands combined.” She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief.
“Do you want to tell me what the spirits said about me?”
“Oh, yes, child, they’ve been yammering in my ear. You’re going to want to pay attention. Sit.”
“I need to get to work.”
“Sit.”
Marissa dutifully sat, just like her Doberman.
“Look here.” Betty’s orange painted nail stabbed the first card. The charms on her bracelet tinkled. “This is the card called La Mort.”
Marissa’s stomach lurched. “That’s death, right? Why would I get a death card?”
“That’s your past, child. Don’t be alarmed. It means a phase is completed.”
“What kind of phase?”
Betty looked thoughtful. “See how it came out upside down?”
Marissa nodded.
“You’ve been in inertia, child. You’ve been resistant to change - resistant to embrace your life journey.”
Marissa frowned. How did this old woman know that? She felt like she’d been hiding for years.
“This card here.” Betty poked the card in the middle. “This is where you’re at right now.”
Marissa picked up the card and studied it. It looked like a jester cavorting on the card. “It looks playful. That’s not me.”
Betty took the card and placed it back on the counter. “That’s Le Mat – the Fool.”
“That sounds more like my idiot ex-boyfriend.” Marissa smiled.
“The spirits told me you’re with two.”
“I went on a date last night - just one date. He’s not my boyfriend.”
Betty nodded. A coughing fit erupted from her lungs. “Get me a water, child,” the old woman wheezed between hacks.
When Marissa had returned with the water, Betty continued. “I think that was the obstruction to Buddy’s death that just passed through.”
“What was? Your cough?” Marissa’s forehead furrowed.
“Yes, I think we’ve freed him to cross over. I hope he waits until I get home. But he’s such a brave little warrior he’ll probably want to go it alone.”
Marissa glanced at the clock on the wall. “The reading?”
“Your two boyfriends,” Betty continued. “You’ve got to watch out for one of them.”
A dust devil of a shudder whirled up her spine. “I don’t have two boyfriends. I broke up with one and the other guy…well, we just met.”
“The one you broke up with - he’s the one in the way.”
Marissa’s frown deepened. “What about the other? I haven’t agreed to be his girlfriend. I’m not sure if we understand one another.”
“That’s because of…” She tapped her fingernail against the desk.
Marissa rolled her eyes and looked up at the clock. “We need to finish up here, Betty. I’ve got to get to work.” She could feel her boss tapping her pen on the desk, looking for her.
“The Fool card is about new beginnings. It’s about important decisions – life-changing decisions that need to be made. I always feel hopeful when the Fool dances into my life.”
“Okay, that’s good.” Marissa’s eyes darted up to the clock. “Finish up, Betty.”
“You can’t rush the spirits, child. They speak in their own time.”
“Can’t you hurry them up?” She wrapped her arms around her abdomen.
Betty’s sharp nail jackhammered against the next card. “This card is important. It’s the Tower.” She said the name of the card in a low, ominous voice. “Major changes are coming, dearie. Big ones. You can’t hold them back.”
The dust devil reappeared, clearing a pathway up her vertebrae. Marissa clutched her stomach even tighter.
“The changes will have far-reaching repercussions. You won’t recognize your life when the Tower is through with you.”
“Should I be scared?”
“Not if you get the obstruction out of the way. Not if you embrace change.” The coughing spasms seized her again, and she reached for the water. “Don’t worry, Buddy, we’ll make it smooth sailing for your departure.”
Marissa’s eyes flicked to the clock. Come on, come on, come on, old woman. “Betty, I really have to go. Really, really, really.”
“Not yet, we have to finish up.”
“I’m listening. Go.”
“So you have the Tower…and then you have Le Diable.” She brought a bony hand up to her chin and rubbed it, causing her turkey waddle neck to wiggle back and forth. “This is going to be an intense year for you, dearie. You can always count on old Betty for guidance.”
Marissa released her arms from her stomach. She’d been holding her tummy so tight her arms were starting to ache. “Okay, Betty, that’s good to know. What doe Le Diable indicate?” Her eyes darted up and back, up and back to the clock.
“The Devil card is all about lust and obsession.”
Marissa’s jaw dropped open. Want. The word shot from her brain like an arrow. The little birds beat frantically inside of her core, and she pictured Daniel’s mouth pressed against hers. She clapped her jaw shut and swallowed.
“It’s also about oppression, hoarding, and greed. It’s not clear to me, though, whether this is yours or another’s. It could be your obstruction.”
“Jason? He’s not greedy in the least. He’s more like…like he can’t hold onto anything.”
“Greed isn’t just about things, dearie.” Betty gave her a pointed look.
Ignoring the ill-omened words, Marissa stood up, her purse brushing the cards. Another card flew off the countertop and landed face down. Marissa stooped to pick it up and handed it back to Betty. “Thanks for the reading, Betty. It sounds like it’s going to be a hell of a year.”
Betty glanced at the card and held it out triumphantly for Marissa to see. Two figures coiled around one another like snakes. A star shone brightly overhead. “It is that, child. This card is L'Amoureux - the Lovers. For good or for worse, you�
��re going to be marked by love.”
Chapter 7
At 1:25 – an hour later than her stomach would have preferred – Marissa managed to make her way to the front to grab a bite to eat. Crazy Betty and a customer conferred over a Tarot reading. Marissa shook her head. Crazy Betty was the only one in the whole place who would not, could not, be reprimanded. Must be her age. She, on the other hand, was fair game for Cara Giannola, Marissa’s bossy, control freak of a supervisor. When Marissa entered the back room this morning, Cara tapped her watch and crooked her finger, indicating that she come in and meet with her RFN, an acronym that Cara often used – Right Fucking Now.
“Close the door behind you,” Cara said, without looking up. “We need that McCarthy account done RFN, as in yesterday. And we need the ad specs emailed to John Jacobs Clothier. And meet with accounting to go over the status of the Shirtless Boyz account. We may need to postpone their ad until they pony up. And since you’re late, you’ll be making up the time later tonight, right, Ms. Engles?” She pounded two sheets of paper between the stapler.
Marissa wondered if that was supposed to be her head getting stapled. “Yes’m,” she mumbled, but Cara never heard her, or if she did, she didn’t acknowledge. That’s what Cara was like – you either said something interesting worth acknowledging or you didn’t. Most of the time you didn’t.
As she exited into the crisp spring air, a floral delivery truck pulled up to the curb. She paused to see a uniformed man leap from the truck, trot to the back, retrieve one of the largest floral arrangements she had ever seen, and head for her office. He zipped past her, nearly knocking her over.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, steadying the huge vase.
“Who’s the lucky recipient? I work there,” she said, smiling.
“A gal named Marissa Engles.”
Marissa’s heart leaped up into her throat, and a shy smile crept along her cheeks. “That’s me.”
“Oh.” The man paused for a moment and looked at her. “Lucky lady. I was picking up my second round of deliveries when the guy came in. He was intense. He handpicked every stem in this arrangement, right down to the Baby’s Breath. Usually customers just point to a picture, pay, and leave.” He glanced down at the card. “He also wrote a virtual book. No little scribbled note for this guy. I had loaded up the truck and was ready to go when he finally finished with your card. Where do you want them?”