"That's too bad." She sighs and goes back to her folding. "I was hoping to live through you vicariously. Why are you avoiding him then?"
"We had a really awkward interaction this morning in the bathroom."
Catriona freezes and looks at me like I might be slightly unhinged. "And why were you in a bathroom together? More importantly, was he with or without his clothing at the time?"
I put one hand on the door handle. "It's a long story. He was wearing a towel and yes, it was all that you think it was and more. Except we don't get along, and if he sees me here, he's going to make a joke about how I'm stalking him so I'm going to put on my big girl pants and head out now. It was nice meeting you, Catriona."
When I'm fairly certain the coast is clear, I push the door open as Catriona chirps, "Come back soon!"
She must think I'm nutty. Hell, I agree with her, at this point. Eyes straight ahead, I motor down the street gripping my bag of consignment goods in my right hand so that if Seth spots me, I have proof that I've been shopping. The pharmacy bag is in my other hand, for balance, and both palms are slick with sweat within seconds.
By the time I arrive back at the cafe for my well-earned iced latte, a mustache of moisture has formed on my upper lip. I chug down a bottle of water before the coffee so I don't dehydrate and require medical attention. I'd beg whoever found me to let me die on the street rather than call 911, but my throat would be too dry to speak. Seth would arrive in his ambulance, smug, sexy and ready to lecture me before starting an I.V. drip.
My daydreams turn to Isabelle and her tarot cards as I sip my drink inside the cafe. Maybe if I had some clarity about the future, I could relax about the present. My summer school paycheck was deposited into my bank account so I have the cash. Of course, I spent almost seventy bucks on thrift store clothing, but that's beside the point.
Ten minutes later, I'm standing on Isabelle's doorstep, preparing to ring the bell. My finger is still poised in the air when the door swings open. Holy shit, she really is psychic.
She rolls her eyes at my shocked expression. "I saw you coming up the front walk. C'mon in."
I'd hoped for some eccentricity inside the house of a psychic, maybe some crystal balls, candelabras, beaded curtains or what have you. Nothing major like human skulls with glowing candles inside them, but something for ambiance. The living room she's led me into is disappointingly unadorned and unexceptional in every way. The couch is beige, the piano is ancient and the rug is excrement brown and worn thin. The only artwork on the walls is an ugly oil painting of some flowers and an embroidered Jesus.
I appreciate that she isn't going for showmanship, but it would be nice if her air conditioning were a tad more powerful. The ancient unit she's got perched in one of the windows is working hard, but isn't doing much to cool the room. The cheap white blinds on the other windows are spun shut, presumably to keep out the afternoon sun, which begs the question of how she saw me coming up the front walkway.
"Sorry about the state of the place," she says, glancing around the room. "My grandmother passed and left it to me, but I haven't had time to fix it up to my liking."
"I'm so sorry. When did she pass away?"
"About two years ago."
Apparently, you have to read a lot of tarot cards before you can afford a new couch.
As we set up a card table and two chairs, I decide that her appearance is more "H&M model" than "mystical prognosticator." She has the kind of willowy, small-busted figure that looks great in a thin sundress sans bra. As she moves, I catch a whiff of her jasmine scented perfume.
She does a complicated shuffle with the cards then passes the deck to me.
"Hold the cards in both hands and silently ask them a question," she says. "Don't say it out loud. Just repeat it a few times in your mind."
After asking the cards if Dad will stay here or come back to New York, I pass them to Isabelle. She flips the last card so that all five are now displayed in the shape of a cross. This is the thirty-dollar package. She offered to lay out four more cards, but that would have set me back another twenty bucks. I figure dipping my toe in the psychic pool with the basic reading is a good way to begin.
"Huh, interesting," she says, frowning.
I don't know much about fortune telling, but I'm pretty sure you aren't supposed to make a face that indicates to the client that she's doomed.
"What does it mean?" I pray she isn't about to predict an early and painful death.
"This card on the left." She points toward a fairly benign image of a man looking at a pole he's holding. "It's in the position that represents your past, and it's also upside down. It tells me that you've been coming at this situation from a place of insecurity and immaturity."
My mouth opens, but before I can protest against this claim she pokes the center card with a fingernail that has been chewed to the quick. "See this one in the middle? This is your current situation, and you've got the temperance card here. It means change is coming, and you're going to experience some serious transformation."
"Transformation sounds good, right?" I say, trying to sound hopeful.
"Transformation isn't simply change." Her tone is a warning. "It doesn't mean you're going to get a new job or a different haircut. Transformation," she waves her hands around her head in a sudden, wild motion, "means upheaval, the destruction of the old so that something new can form in its place."
Finally, Isabelle sounds like the new-age guru I was expecting.
She jabs another card. "The one below Temperance is Three of Cups. It's like the ultimate soulmate card. Someone has recently come into your life who will be incredibly important. This is someone you will love more deeply than anyone you've loved before."
Isabelle looks up at me like I'm supposed to reveal that I've already met this person, my spiritual soulmate.
