“Now, I prepare the cards,” she says.
She closes her eyes and shuffles the deck with the dexterity of a dealer in Vegas. Eyes shut tight, she places both hands on top of the deck and hums. At length.
Just when I’m wondering if we’ve accidentally stumbled onto a very bad a cappella concert, she opens her eyes and spreads the cards out into an arc on the table.
“Pick one. Whichever calls to you.”
Nothing calls to me save for the door leading out of this room, so I slide out a card at random.
“Very good,” she says. “Now turn it over without reversing it.”
I do, and reveal a bright red heart with three evil-looking swords plunged into it.
“Jesus,” I say.
“Ah,” Madame Olenska murmurs. “The three of swords.”
“Doesn’t look auspicious.”
“A card of heartbreak,” she confirms.
I glance at Hope, whose brow is furrowed.
“The card signifies a betrayed connection,” Madame Olenska says. “Perhaps in the past, perhaps in the future. Maybe romantic, maybe not.”
“How conveniently vague,” I mutter, thoroughly unimpressed.
“We’re not finished. Choose another card to unveil further meaning,” Madame Olenska says.
I consider declining, but Hope looks eager for me to keep going, so I comply.
I take a card and turn it over. It’s a man holding two fistfuls of swords by their blades, attempting to sneak off as he looks over his shoulder at two more swords plunged into the ground behind him.
“Ah,” Madame Olenska says, as though this clears up everything. “Another card hearkening betrayal, but in the context of the three of swords, the betrayal itself is the cause of the heartache. Were you cheated on by a lover, perhaps, my dear? For if not, the cards may point to a deep-seated fear that you will be, or—”
Yeah, enough of this shit.
“All right,” I interrupt her. “That’s me sorted. Hope’s turn.”
Hope looks at me with concern.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine,” I say brusquely. I don’t want to be rude but I don’t feel like getting into a conversation about my demons with a woman doing a carnival act.
Madame Olenska looks askance at Hope. “Do you want a reading, dear?” she asks.
“I do,” Hope says. “But, Felix, if you’d rather go—”
I’m conscious I’m causing a small drama with my reaction to this irritating farce, so I wave this away. “Please, go ahead,” I say.
Madame Olenska repeats her ritual with the humming and shuffling, then spreads the deck out again on the table.
Hope holds her hand over the deck, moving it back and forth before finally picking a card.
It’s an upside-down image of an old man and a family, overlaid with approximately one million gold circles with stars in the middle.
If the meaning is meant to be “chaotic nonsense,” it’s dead on.
