I must accomplish all of this before the Netflix special taping. It’s imperative that I make it back to my proper timeline before committing those uncomfortable jokes to tape forever.
That’s why we’re here, sitting close on one side of a velvet-draped table, a woman wearing more bangles than should be legal across from us. A deck of cards has been shuffled, drawn, and decoded one by one. They are…not good.
“For the past, we have the Nine of Swords,” Lucille says, tapping the edge of her card with a long, painted nail. “It represents deep anxiety and fear. There was a huge stressor in your past.” Lucille is probably in her late-sixties, long dark hair raining down over a crimson-colored peasant blouse.
“No kidding,” I say, thinking about the pressure to perform, to achieve, to live up to my family’s demands and be the romantic ideal. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
She must take that as a challenge and not the defensive joke I mean it to be. “Suffering in our lives is as much up here”—she presses her palm to the center of her forehead—“as it is out here.” As she gestures around, I take stock of the room with its plum-painted walls, candelabras, and dark, heavy curtains. Lots of distractions for what feels like poetic nonsense. Even so, I’m in no place to say so or judge. “Would you like to hear about your present?”
I look to Drew, who had his reading before mine, rife with positivity and hope. I’d be annoyed if he didn’t deserve all that. His nod prompts me to continue.
“We have here the Devil.”
“Oh dear God.”
“God can’t really help you now,” says Lucille ominously. “No, I’m just kidding. Usually it means hedonism, materialism, addiction, the works.” I think about the photos I found of myself online. The drinking, the drugs. Harry in my bed and on my payroll. The items in my apartment that serve no function other than status. “But there is a flip side.”
“Which is?” I ask.
“Freedom and pleasure.”
Those ring true too. It’s clear the financial security I’ve found in this career has unshackled me from the uncertain chaos of my old ways. Of living paycheck to paycheck, tip to tip. Operating on energy drinks and the absolute will to succeed. “Those don’t sound too shabby.” I smile at Drew, who has his eyes laser-focused on the final card in my reading.
“Don’t get too cocky now. We’ve still got the future.” The grim reaper is displayed on the card, white flowers blooming beneath his pointed staff. The skull face gives me the creeps. “Death.”
“That seems hardly fair. Everybody dies,” I say with a nervous laugh. “That’s in everyone’s future.”
Lucille doesn’t look up as she speaks. “There’s loss and grief on the horizon for you, child.” Her voice possesses a new, fierce conviction that scares me into belief.
Worry mounts inside me. If she’s telling the truth, has this seven-year jump set destruction into motion? In the cards, maybe she sees my untimely demise. I used those crystals, gamed the system, and now time is going to come crashing down around me. Claim me for the dirt and the weeds.
I clutch at my tight chest when suddenly I notice Drew’s hand twitch below the table. It appears as if he wants to touch me, to soothe me. But his hand goes still again, remaining firmly in his own lap. What I wouldn’t give to feel the warmth of his palm on my skin, allow it to cut through my anxiety and inject a balm straight to my soul. “It’s okay,” Drew whispers with a nudge of his elbow, which helps some.
“He’s right,” Lucille says. “It will be okay. As I mentioned, there is always the inverse. Out of death can come rebirth. A new cycle and a fresh start.”
If this nightmare has shown me anything, it’s that I desperately need one of those. I’ve isolated my family. Lost my best friend’s trust. Succeeded only so much that I stood on their backs and spat on them to get here. I don’t deserve any of the fame I’ve gotten.
I’m surviving in a constant state of mortification and shame.
I offer a waning smile without forgetting why we’re here to begin with. “Let’s hope that’s it. Do you happen to have any, uh, cleansing agents, maybe? Like, sage or herbs orcrystalsperhaps?” I’m being leading, but I’m itching to get out of here.
Lucille perks up at the mention. “You’ve opened your mind to the healing power of our earth’s rocks? I wouldn’t have expected that. You seem so clogged.” No matter which way I spin that, it is unequivocally an insult. Her eyes are a scrutinizing scan. “I may have something for you. Hold tight.”
Once she’s disappeared behind the curtain, I have a moment to absorb that Drew’s elbow is still lightly touching mine. A reassuring sensation. My insides are a war zone: joy over the comfort of his slight touch and terror over the cards still mocking me from the table. “We need to get me back ASAP!”
“Okay, I hear you, but they’re just cards. They might not mean anything.”
“Uh, hello? They werejust crystalsuntil they flung me into the future!” I shout-whisper, scaring myself with my own voice.
Drew’s blue eyes are squinted. “I understand this is stressful, but we’re not going to figure this out by panicking, okay?”
I wish I could take his advice like a shot of tequila and let it loosen me up, shake the fear off, but it feels unfeasible.
After an exhale, I say, “I’m worried. What if I ripped a hole in the space-time continuum? What if I’m in for a world of punishment? What if those crystals were a barter with the devil like the one on the card and he’s sucked out my soul?”
“That sounds like a questionable erotica plot,” Drew jokes, an obvious bid to distract me. “And I’ve read my fair share of questionable erotica to know.”
“That card does look quite BDSM-y,” I point out, noting the silhouetted humans bound by the neck. “Wait, are they naked?”
