“Chicken out?” she said. “This isn’t voodoo.”
My mouth dropped open. Then I swallowed, though my throat was suddenly completely dry. Anyone else would have gotten the hell out of there. But in a flash I reasoned myself out of it.
Oh my! That was horrible.
I’m scared.
Terrified. Terrified. I am terrified.
I need to leave.
But she is very, very good. She is for real!
She is the only person in the world who can help.
I followed her right inside.
With a nimble click of her waxy pink fingers, she locked the front door. “We don’t want to be interrupted,” she said. She then took my hand. Even though it was completely out of my character, I let her. She led me to the back of her house and we sat down across from one another.
“Close your eyes, relax. Take some deep breaths,” she told me. I wasn’t sure about closing my eyes, but I did not want to be rude, so I did as I was told. I heard her stirring, and I opened one eye to see what was happening. She had placed a long marble tray before me, and with an eyedropper she was adding scented oils to it. Rosemary, eucalyptus, lavender.
“Close your eyes. Keep breathing. Relax.” When she seemed convinced that I was settled and comfortable she got up and went away for a bit. She came back with a hot cup of tea and set it before me.
“Drink this,” she said.
“I’m pregnant,” I told her.
“It’s no matter. It’s just tea.”
So I took a sip. “It’s very hot.”
“Take your time,” she said, smiling. She didn’t seem like a bad person.
I took another sip.
“This is not the path you were going to take today,” she said smiling, shaking her head.
“It’s not?”
“No. Not at all. You got brave, I guess. Unexpectedly?”
“I guess I did,” I said.
She had cats. At least three that I had counted so far. Her house smelled of them. I was a little afraid of their mysterious ways. They slink about and seem to know things only reserved for humans. I like cats best in a quantity of one or less.
I focused hard on Zemma, trying not to think about the cats. I focused on the tea.
“What you almost did,” she said, slowly, deliberately – I was unsure if she had an accent of just a strange way of speaking – “was go shopping. For your baby, and yourself, at a little shop. I can see it all right now. It’s almost happening, right now.”
“It is?” I asked. I felt very uncomfortable. Light, nervous. My gut was telling me to leave.
“If you weren’t here you would be there. And the chance of you being here is so slight, that I can easily see you there. That is what almost happened today.” She smiled. This all made perfect sense to her. I twisted in my chair. Had I not been here, I would have gone to the Lucky Duckling baby and maternity store. It had been on my original agenda, though I had not told anyone or really even formalized it in my own mind.
“They could have monogrammed the blankets for you. They are telling you this right now. If you were there. They would tell you to bring the blankets back after you know the baby’s initials.”
“I don’t know…”
“Two blankets. One is white. One is periwinkle.” She looked at me, smiling, raising her eyebrows. Clearly enjoying how this was going. I felt that there was nothing to say. She already knew everything.
“I think I need to leave,” I said. With a jittery clatter I set my teacup on its saucer. I searched in my handbag for my wallet, which is always buried when I need it most. “How much does this cost?”
She shook her head. “Don’t go. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“But you are,” I said.
She reached out and placed her hand on mine. “Relax.” Her eyes met mine. “I can help you.”
I slumped back down. Her words were the pinprick of relief I had been yearning for.
“Do you have something with you that you wear all the time?” she asked. I naturally thought of my wedding ring and I touched it, began removing it.
“Not a wedding ring,” she said. “I need something that is truly yours. What about that?” she asked, nodding to the ring on my right hand: Valencia’s old class ring.
“Okay,” I said, reluctantly removing it.
“It’s harder for you to part with this one than with that big daddy,” she mused.
“I guess you’re right.”
“Keep drinking your tea.”
It was cooler now and easier to sip. There were pieces floating everywhere in it. “Are you going to read my tea leaves?” I asked her.
“Yes.”
“Does it matter that I set it down on the saucer, and maybe tipped it a little when that happened?”
“No, it will be as it should be.”
“Oh.” I sipped it, aware of more cats, at least five different ones. Zemma sat before me, her eyes closed, her fingers rubbing the ring. Her face looked light and pleasant at first, but it was darkening.
“This is not your ring,” she said.
“It is. I mean, it used to be my sister’s, but it’s mine now. I’ve worn it for years. I never take it off.”
“Why do you have it instead of her?” she asked, handing it back to me.
“You mean you don’t know?”
“I don’t know everything. Some things come to me very clearly, and some things hide from me.”
My tea was nearly gone and she took the cup from me, pouring some of the tea onto the saucer. She handed the cup back to me. “Cup it in your hands with the handle to you and swirl it, gently, counterclockwise, yes, like that, now turn your cup over and set it on the saucer. And tap the bottom three times.” I did what she said, though I felt ridiculous, like a kid playing magic.
She took the cup from me, sliding it carefully across the table to herself, and she flipped it over with the handle close to her. She studied it for a very long while, periodically looking up at me. Then she turned it to me and pointed to the part of the cup to the left of the handle. “This shows me what you have done, and where you have been. This takes me back across your whole life, and it helps me see what your childhood was like.”
I leaned in, curious.
“The way the leaves spread out and become very thin, through here, makes me think you may have lost someone, or perhaps you relocated away from your family. Did your parents get divorced, and one moved away with a brother or sister of yours? Or did you get sent away to live with a relative?”
“No. It was worse than that. My brother and sister died when I was eleven.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
She went back to the cup and pointed to a shape further up on the left part of the cup. It looked quite a bit like a letter A, complete with seraphs at the bottom of it and a faint cross line through it.
“Has anyone or anything significant come into your life whose name begins with A? A person, or perhaps a city?”
“My husband.”
“There is heaviness here, like he anchors you, but I also feel that you may feel a little trapped?”
“Sometimes.”
“Another interpretation, with symbols as clear as this,” she carefully turned the cup and showed me, “can be had by examining them from different angles.” As she turned the cup, the A became a V. “You can see, this is now clearly a V, and we can apply the opposite meaning to it. Instead of weight, think of lightness or flight. Did you know anyone whose name began with a V, or does the letter V mean anything to you?”
“Both my brother and sister.”
“Hmmm,” she nodded. “So now, across from the handle, represents the present. You say you’re pregnant, and I do see this shape here, which could be interpreted as… an egg, for fertility… but there is a large spattering of sharpness here. Do you see how these look like little knives? I’m sensing danger, and evil.” She set down the cup. “Do you feel that you’re
in danger?”
“Well, I feel like I might be. Can you tell me if something bad is going to happen to me?”
She gave me a skeptical look. “I’m not a substitution for physical protection.”
“No, no. I understand that.”
The doorbell rang and I jumped.
“We’ll just let it go,” she said, brushing her hand towards the door while she continued examining the cup. She gently turned it a bit this way and that, thoughtfully. The doorbell rang again but she ignored it, continuing to study the cup. I fidgeted, wishing the intruder would go away.
“Is it locked?” I heard myself ask.
“Yes, I keep it locked when I’m back here,” she said, raising her eyebrows at me rather suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”
“I think someone might be following me. Or maybe not. I mean, never mind. It’s just something I think sometimes, but no one ever is.” I shrugged, like this was a normal thing to say. The bell rang again and Zemma gave me a harsh, critical look. I shrugged again and scratched my neck as she set down the cup with care, rising and disappearing through the heavy velvet curtains into the front of the house.
She seemed genuinely wise. I wondered how she ended up in this tiny shack with so little. I tried to wash my mind of the thought, quickly, quickly. I peered at the right side of the cup, which seemed to represent my future. The good news was that it was not blank. I gave a small shrug and a wry smile to one of the cats, but he just hissed and ran away.
I became aware of minutes ticking by, and finally I stood up, feeling I should go to see what had happened to my host. As I parted the velvet curtain she reappeared, her face white and troubled. She looked at me tensely, her mouth drawn in a puckery frown. She looked stressed, and even a little angry.
“Is something the matter?” I asked her.
“You need to leave.”
“What? Why? Are you going to finish my reading?”
She shook her head. “You need to leave here. Don’t come here again.”
“Did I do something?” I asked her.
She walked past me and removed my cup from the table. She was shaking.
I turned and went back to my chair, and picked up my purse off the floor. I reached inside, looking for money.
“No,” she said. “I’m not going to take anything from you. You need to leave. Be careful, and do not ever come here again.”
“Who was at the door? Was there someone here for me?” I asked.
Silently, she walked me to the door and opened it. Numbly I stepped through and halted on her front step. I turned back to her but she had already closed the door. There was a click and a soft thud of the door being locked, twice, behind me. I surveyed the neighborhood, shielding my eyes from the sunlight. I looked up and down the street for the doorbell ringer, but no one was around. The sun was high and white, and a slight breeze was blowing. It was the same day it had been when I arrived at the little purple house, but I felt as though infinite time had passed. I turned and looked at the house in confusion. Feeling like a fool, I went to my car and got inside, starting the engine, but waiting. The street remained deserted; the little purple house remained still.
“Was it John Spade?” I whispered aloud. I was confused. Her weird house was getting to me. It all probably meant nothing. Bad people didn’t bother to ring the doorbell. Right?
I drove to the Lucky Duckling and bought the blankets that I had apparently been destined to own. Then I went home. I was not used to our stately new fence yet, and the imposing sight of it surprised me, offered a small drop of relief to me, as I remote-controlled my way into the driveway. And there was Adrian. Rich, famous, gorgeous, green-eyed Adrian. He was watering the flowers with a garden hose, shirtless. He paused to playfully spray my tires, and then he pretended he was going to spray me. I smiled and put my window down, stopping the car in the driveway.
“Hi, Babe,” he said, leaning in to give me a kiss. “It looks like someone has been shopping.”
“That would be me.”
“What’s the matter? You look a little dazed. You haven’t been drinking, have you? You know babies don’t like that.”
“Adrian! Of course I haven’t been drinking!” I put up my window and parked the car in the garage. He followed me inside, and like a gentleman, he brought in my shopping bags and paint for me. Along with the blankets, I had picked up some onesies and little socks that were on sale. I switched my sandals for flip flops and took a look through the catalogs and magazines on the kitchen table, waiting for Adrian’s reaction. My purchases had all seemed cute, classy, properly sophisticated, but I was only right about half the time. While I drank a glass of water and pretended not to see, I noticed his face scrunch up a bit at the swab of color on top of the paint can. I turned away.
“Why don’t you come outside with me? I want to show you my plans for the patio.”
“Sure.” I pulled back my hot, sweaty hair into a ponytail, and I followed him outside.
“So how are you liking this fence? It’s great isn’t it?” He surveyed our yard, looking very pleased. “I saw the truck from the fence company over in the Kilbourne’s driveway this morning. I think we started something.”
“It figures.”
“Are you feeling okay? You look pale. Are you nauseous?”
“No, I’m fine. I was just thinking how good I have it. How lucky I am.” I smiled up at him.
“It’s not luck; you deserve this.”
“Do you really believe that? I’m not even a nice person. Aren’t you supposed to be nice to deserve good things?”
“You’re nice. If you were any nicer you wouldn’t be fun.”
“You know I’m going to the doctor tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah, that’s what you said.”
“Do you want to come with me?”
“So I was thinking of tearing out that little side wall, and leveling it, and making the patio about twice as big.”
“I really like it back here like it is now. If we tore out that wall, wouldn’t we also lose that tree, and the hammock?”
“We can always move the hammock.”
“Well… Whatever. Where’s Frisky?”
“On the other side of the house, digging holes, I imagine.”
“You’re coming with to my appointment, right?” I asked. I noticed I still had my purse slung around me, so I reached inside for a gummy prenatal vitamin. They were like candy. I could barely control myself to not eat them all.
“Sure, I’ll be there. So, that paint looks more purple than I was imagining.”
“Yes. I gathered you didn’t like it.”
“It’s alright. If you like it, I like it. I think I’m going to get started in there. Are you going to join me?”
“I’m not sure. The fumes might be a little much for me.”
“No problem.” He gave me a kiss. “Come and visit me if you get bored.”
“Adrian, wait. I want to tell you something… I went to a psychic today.”
“What?” He stopped and spun around, looking disgusted. His reaction was much more severe than I had expected.
I shrugged. “I thought it would be fun.”
“Why would you do something like that?”
“Just… I don’t know. I guess, I mean…” I pressed my palms together in frustration. “Like I said, I thought it would be fun.”
“So what happened?”
“She was amazing.”
“Amazing,” he scoffed.
“Yes. She knew so much that it was crazy. She knew that I was going to paint the nursery periwinkle. She actually said periwinkle. She knew that I was going to go to the Lucky Duckling for blankets. She was seriously amazing…”
“Really,” he said, pulling a paint sample from the outer pocket of my purse, clearly labeled Pacific Periwinkle. “Was this sticking out of your purse like this all day?”
I felt my face grow hot. “I don’t know.”
“Honey, those people are scam artists. Ha
ve you gone to her before?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Why have you been withdrawing so much money lately?”
“Just to shop.”
“Why do you need cash?”
“Some of the stores I like don’t take credit cards.”
“Will you do something for me?”
“What is it?”
“Don’t see any more psychics. Ever again. Promise me.”
“Adrian, don’t make me promise that. I don’t know why you’re so upset.”
“Do I ever ask anything of you?”
“Frisky. You asked me to let you have Frisky here with us.”
“Frisky is for our protection. I am being serious. Do I ever, I mean do I ever, ask anything of you?”
We stood across from each other, silent, our eyes locked. Typically situations like this put me a peculiar mood to giggle hysterically. But not this time.
“No, I guess not.”
“So do this one thing for me.”
“You’ve got it,” I said. I went outside, slamming the door behind me, and sat down in the soon-to-be-upgraded hammock. I popped another prenatal vitamin. As I replaced the bottle, I noticed the advertisement I had torn from a local magazine reminding myself about monogramable cashmere blankets available at the Lucky Duckling. I shook my head in disgust at myself, at my gullibility; I wadded up the glossy sheet of paper and threw it in our firepit.
After enough time went by that I was sure Adrian wasn’t going to come out to see how I was doing, I tried calling Jeb. Again it went straight to his voicemail. I left a brief message telling him to call me. I was worried about him. He had never been unreliable before. I picked at the fringe on the hammock. If he never responded to me, sooner or later, I was going to have to tell someone.
“Frisky, stop it!” I cried, distracted by the dog lunging at a bird in the birdbath. He put his front paws on the heavy edge of the birdbath and the whole top of it flipped off its base, nearly landing him. To my amazement, he ran up to me, whimpering, and tried to hide behind me. I petted his head and he looked up at me, adoringly. It was easy to forget he was still just a puppy.
Surviving Valencia Page 18