The first card I turned was the King of Wands wearing a fiery red cloak. My past as it related to my current question. A vivacious and energetic King, a passionate man, a magnanimous father. Definitely the Carl I knew and had fallen in love with three years ago.
The present situation was depicted by the Four of Wands, a man and woman dancing together in a pavilion. Romance, an engagement, a celebration of home. Such a beautiful representation of our Glen Canyon life.
The challenge card was the Page of Cups, a young lady standing by the seashore holding a glowing cup out of which a fish stood on its tail. Tapping the card with one chipped fingernail, I paused, thoughtful. "This card almost always means good news. Sometimes a pregnancy." I shook my head at that thought, and continued. "But today this card reminds me of Carl's daughters. They are actually wonderful kids most of the time, but quite energetic and demanding of his attention. When they visit, I hear a perpetual chorus of "Daddy look at me." Both he and I end up exhausted by the girls' unceasing intensity. I know it's just kids being kids, but they are definitely a challenge. And they do present the complication in this situation for sure."
I turned the outcome card, the Nine of Wands reversed, a man standing behind a fence of wands, leaning on a staff. "This is the dig in and wait and see card," I said. "Delays and obstacles. Adversity. Sometimes, with the reverse interpretation, a dead end. I know this sounds terrible, but it's really been the story of my life with Carl. We've been waiting for the lawyers to settle things with the divorce and it is just taking so damn long, we get frustrated. This card tells me the outcome is still stalled. Nothing is going to change. In fact, things may be delayed further. No surprise there. It is what it is. Might as well accept it and move on."
Sighing, I gathered the images, reviewing them one more time. "So when I think about the question of whether I should go to Vail, this outcome points to the possibility of travel delays, and more frustration on top of the current frustration. As lovely as a skiing trip sounded earlier, I don't know whether that's what I should be doing. Going home and enjoying the peace and quiet, or perhaps catching up on my design work for Carl's new executive placement agency feels like a better use of my time. He'll be delighted to come home to a new set of logos and letterhead designs to jump start his creative process."
I shrugged, disappointed but resolved, and smiled. "Now that that question is settled, let's read you." I looked over at my cousin. "Think about your question while I shuffle."
"I don't know, Jacks." Rita shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "I essentially just told Dave to take a flying leap. I don't know there's anything to read."
Considering what to say to my cousin, I nodded. "Last night you mentioned that blonde, Candy, had been an old girlfriend, but he'd been the one to break it off, right? I know you saw what you saw... but what if there's something else you need to know. A bigger picture. This is actually one of my favorite types of readings. In this case, the question would be something like... 'what do I most need to know about this relationship thing with Dave?' Wanna give it a try?"
I continued shuffling, giving Rita time to come around to my way of thinking. She wanted — no, she needed — to understand what had happened with Dave. And what might happen in the future. I hoped the cards would have an answer for her.
"Ready?" I asked, laying out four cards in a row.
Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "Ready."
I turned the first card, the Five of Swords, a man laughing as he walks away from a fight with two other swordsmen. "Shitfire, girlfriend, no messing around here. I call this card the humiliation card. In this case, a past defeat that involved some shady underhanded tactics. A failure where nobody wins. This card is the past, but I don't know whether it is yours or his. Maybe both."
The second card, the present, was the Magician, a mystical man with the tools of his alchemical trade displayed on a table before him. "This card represents intention. Imagination. Will combined with skill. Competence and confidence. Again, whether we're reading him or you Reets, this is a very strong card. Let's see if the other cards make things any clearer."
Turning the Seven of Pentacles, I frowned, trying to piece together the relationships between the images to tell the story. The card showed a youngish man in a garden surrounded by golden pentacle blossoms, the fruit of his labor.
"Wealth is the challenge?" Rita asked.
"It's more than that," I said. "It is waiting for investments to mature, or your work to bear fruit, which requires time and a lot of patience. I think patience is the challenge here. Sometimes the wine has to mature to develop that rich taste we so love. Make sense?"
"I think this reading is about Dave and me," Rita said, "as if we're on parallel paths in some way."
"Could be," I said, turning the outcome card.
Both of us stared at the unpleasant image of two paupers in the snow outside a lovely stained glass church window. The window contained five pentacles gleaming in warm red and green and gold hues. This was one of my least favorite cards in the deck, but I read it anyway. "This is the 'left out in the cold' card. It can pertain to financial failure, or loss of a lover. Often it signifies homelessness — either literal or figurative. Once I saw this card interpreted as the catch 22 of a Catholic marriage, where fealty comes at all costs — including your own personal happiness. But beyond that, it's alienation, feeling cast out. Alone." I looked over at my cousin. "I'm having trouble putting this reading together, Reets. What do you think?"
Clearing her throat, Rita wiped her eyes on a battered napkin she'd stuffed into the cuff of her orchid cashmere sweater. "You do realize this card is pretty damn close to where I stood last night looking in the window of Dave's cabin at his Christmas lights?"
"Oh God, Reets. I didn't think. I'm so sorry." Inwardly cringing, I reached across the couch to touch my cousin's hand.
"No. Don't be." Rita shook her head, tapping the first card, the Five of Swords. "The humiliation card...I definitely relate to that. Been there, done that. In spades. And apparently I haven't progressed a whole lot because I'm doing it again with this alienation card. Fuck."
Shaking her head, Rita studied the image of the Magician, as if trying to put together the meanings. "But this Magician and the patience card sound like a different story, don't they?"
"Could be, but it usually doesn't work that way. I think this is a story about someone," my voice emphasized the word someone so Rita knew it was perhaps not only her, "who had a messy humiliating love affair in the past, but is coming into his or her own, as represented by the Magician. That someone is experiencing the challenge of waiting until the time is right to grab the success — or the love — they've waited for and worked hard to manifest. The current outcome... I think this means if they fail the challenge... could very likely make them feel alone, left out in the cold. An island so to speak." I paused, considering the card meanings, then continued. "The question we asked for this reading was 'what do I most need to know about this relationship thing with Dave,' right? I'm guessing the cards are telling you more about your dynamic, but as you said earlier, your lives may be running in parallel and the story is both of yours. The thing to remember — and this is important, Reets — the outcome is reading the current trajectory of events. All that can change if we somehow decide to make different choices."
A pounding knock on the door startled both of us. "Rita, are you there?" a man shouted.
"What the hell?" I gathered up the cards, alarmed.
"It's Dave," Rita said, her hands suddenly shaking. "Oh God. I don't want to see him, Jacks. I didn't think he'd come here. Shit. What am I gonna say?"
"You're gonna go in the bedroom and let me handle it," I said, shoving her gently in the back. I swished my hand at her. "Go."
As Rita closed the bedroom door, I unlocked the deadbolt. I was pissed off at the world. Correction: at the men in the world. This Dave Higgins had ripped my cousin's heart out. Not okay. I wanted nothing more than to rip him back.
"Rita, what the hell... Oh, sorry ma'am, you're not Rita. I must have the wrong apartment."
"No. Right apartment. I'm Rita's cousin, Jackie. And you are...?" I kept my voice cool and detached. I wasn't someone he could mess with and I wanted him to know it.
"Dave Higgins. I'm um... Rita's friend. Maybe she's told you about me?"
I sniffed a laugh. "Yeah. I know the name, Mr. Higgins. I also know a two-faced cheat when I see one. You're not welcome here. So I advise you to get the fuck off my porch before I call the cops."
"Whoa. Just a second there. I don't know what you're talking about ma'am, but you apparently have me mixed up with someone else." Dave sounded taken aback, shocked.
"No I don't think so," I laughed, the sound as derisive as I could make it. "After your little interlude last night with your old lover, a Miss Candycane, Rita doesn't care to see you anymore. I think she told you that already? So please, pursue your affections with this other woman and leave my cousin alone."
"What the hell did Candy tell her?" Dave sputtered.
"Nothin' you need to be concerned about, Mr. Higgins. Now, please leave. I'm asking you nicely."
"Nothing happened, Rita. I swear it. Whatever she told you was a lie." Dave raised his voice so the entire apartment complex could hear him. "Please, honey. Let me explain."
"Don't give me a reason to call the law, Mr. Higgins. I have the phone in my hand."
"God damn it, Rita. Talk to me." Dave shouted, his expression surprisingly desperate.
I dialed the phone, three beeps, then spoke. "Yes, I'm calling to report an attempted break-in at 1243 Sunshine Avenue...."
"All right. I'll go. I don't want any trouble." Dave announced. "But this ain't over, Rita. Not by a long shot."
At the sound of screeching tires I shut the front door and slide the deadbolt into place. "I don't think he'll be back, Reets," I said, returning the phone to the charging cradle. The fake 911 call had accomplished what I intended.
Opening the bedroom door, Rita stumbled into my open arms. "Jacks, I'm just so...." My cousin's voice cracked, the strain too much. "I can't believe this is happening to me again," she sobbed. The tears came in a debilitating flood. I enfolded her into a hug and we both collapsed onto the carpet, our backs against the wall.
We love who we love, and the pain of that loss can be inconsolable.
All I could do was hold her and tell her everything would be all right. Not that she believed me. Because we both knew the heartbreak gig. Time supposedly heals all — or at a minimum takes away some of the hurt. But with Rita I wasn't sure that was true. I'd hoped it was when she left New York to come to California. That she'd eventually get over Gabe, start a new life, and find someone else. But this Dave setback was more devastating than I'd first imagined. I hoped she'd bounce back, but in that moment, I suspected it would take quite a bit longer than either one of us wanted to admit.
Chapter Nine
Christmas night I headed home late after tucking my cousin into bed with a cup of chamomile tea and a good book. I slept most of the next morning away, awakening only when my stomach insisted it needed food. Eating turned out to be a mistake though, because I vomited almost immediately after swallowing the last bite of toast. Chalking the incident up to stress and a late night, I took some fizzy stomach medicine and crawled back into bed, finally rising again at sundown. The feeling of bloated nausea in my stomach persisted, and the achiness I'd felt the past few days had settled in — of all places — my breasts.
I drove to the store in the rain to grab some ibuprofen, my pain reliever of choice. The twisty canyon road turned my mind to the events of the past few days: the incident with Carl in the restaurant, Rita's banshee face as she sprang through the apartment door, the desperation in Dave's eyes when I insisted he leave my cousin's apartment. The memories collided with tarot card images, a handsome Carl smiling as the King of Wands, a morose Rita standing in the snow outside a brilliant Five of Pentacles stained glass window, Dave watching his garden grow in the Seven of Pentacles.
The final image was me, holding a fish in a goblet as the Page of Cups. I guess sometimes it takes a while for us to understand what the universe is screaming at us.
Once I parked in the grocery store parking lot, I wiped the tears off my face. Then I pulled myself together, bought the ibuprofen I'd come to purchase along with a home pregnancy test, drove home quickly, and peed on the stick.
Later that night I sat in bed with my sketch pad, considering images for Carl's new executive placement agency. I was thinking nouveau tech, colorful and sharp, but also something that invoked old California. Stability and history. I wanted to get a few ideas on paper before Carl returned the following week to prompt his creative mind. I drew columns and arches, climbing grape vines, stylized Mexican flowers, but nothing seemed quite right yet.
The jiggling sound of a key in the front door interrupted my process, my heart throbbing in my chest as I realized someone unexpected was attempting to enter my home. I set the sketch pad aside, and padded out to the great room, the phone in my hand. The jiggling persisted, a muttered curse whispered on the other side of the front door.
"Who's there?" I yelled, using volume to keep the quiver out of my voice. "Be warned, I'm calling the cops right now."
"Please don't, darling," a man's voice said. "I simply can't see well enough to find the lock."
"Carl?" I peered through the peep hole out into the darkness. His return flight wasn't supposed to be until New Year's Eve.
"Is there someone else who calls you darling?"
My lover's exasperated voice made me smile. I opened the door to find a somewhat rumpled and exhausted man, clutching a camouflage day pack.
"I didn't expect you... What's that?" I pointed to the back pack.
"It's all they had at the sporting goods store and I needed something on short notice," Carl shrugged, dropping the bag at his feet. He stepped forward, his hands tentatively gripping my elbows. "I'm so sorry. I should never have left." His gray eyes searched my face, the deep worry evident.
"I should never have walked out of the restaurant." I said, stepping into his embrace and kissing his cheek. "I was so angry — not that I didn't have reason to be — but —"
"You had every right to be. I was capitulating. Allowing Victoria's ridiculous demands to determine my choices. It won't happen again. Ever. I promise." He kissed my forehead and eyelids, then found my lips.
"You came home early," I said a moment later. "What about the girls?"
"I left them with their doting grandparents. Having the time of their lives, as you knew they would," Carl smiled. "I wanted to be here with you."
"Well.... I have something to show you," I said, taking him by the hand. I drew him down the hall to the bedroom.
"This seems promising," Carl chuckled, taking a moment to kick off his shoes.
"It's not that," I admonished, laughing.
As we entered the bedroom, Carl noticed my sketchpads. I released his hand so he could pick one up and study it. "For the new agency?" He nodded his head, thoughtful
"That's not what I wanted to show you."
"No?" Carl turned toward me, his charcoal gray sweater turning his eyes a deep slate.
I handed him the white plastic implement and waited, my face beaming.
"Okay.... ummm. What am I looking at here?" He held the item in his hand, his face perplexed.
"It's positive." I interpreted.
"What exactly does positive mean? I have no idea what this is." Carl flailed the pregnancy test stick in the air.
"I'm pregnant, you ninny." I laughed, aware the bombshell news would undoubtedly be as shocking to him as it had been to me earlier that evening.
"You're what?" Carl's eyes widened as he studied the test results in his hand, the significance of the implement suddenly clear. "Are you sure? Are these things accurate?"
"Well... I have morning sickness and my breasts are swelling like cantaloupes." Sudde
nly self-conscious, I stood waiting for him to say something. Not that I thought he'd be terribly upset — or at least I hoped he wouldn't be. We'd talked about children, or at least a child. The timing was simply sooner than planned.
Reaching for me again, he gently gathered me into his arms. "I don't know that you could have said anything that would have made me this happy." His voice sounded tearful. "It's the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for. Except for you, of course. And like an idiot I was a thousand miles away..." He sniffed loudly, then wiped his nose on his sleeve.
"Stop," I said, sniffling now too. "We're here together now. All of us."
Carl stepped back and placed his hand on my still flat abdomen. "Yes. All of us. Are you feeling all right, then? Can I get you anything? Perhaps some ginger tea? Ice cream and peanut butter? Hot chocolate maybe?"
"Shut up and kiss me," I laughed.
"Quite gladly," he muttered, his lips against mine. His hands moved up to my waist, then further up my side, then around my shoulders to pause at the spaghetti straps on my top. "Cantaloupes, you say?" Carl's voice was teasing, his gray eyes shining silver in the muted lighting. "This I must see..." And that was all he said for quite a while.
Chapter Ten
As pregnancies went, mine was rather uneventful. I passed the exhausted nauseous phase quickly and kept to my daily routines, barely missing a beat. Carl suggested I quit my mural work to stay off my feet, but that seemed unnecessary, so I kept painting right into late spring. Until the belly began getting in the way too much and my back ached from leaning forward at the waist to compensate. I put the finishing touches on a pumpkin vine and handed the paintbrush to my new assistant, Josephina.
"Do you think you can you finish it without me?" I asked, my hands massaging my back. The young woman had a talented hand and an eye for color. The design was mine, but the majority of the work would need to fall to her skills on this project.
Never Say No to Love (Sonoma Summers Book 2) Page 5
