Major Detours

by Zachary Sergi

  Everything feels like it has been building to this point, this peak, this pinnacle. I can’t believe Anwar’s betrayal only happened yesterday—it already feels like a lifetime ago. In many ways, it was. When he betrayed me in that impossible way, all I could see was the confirmation of my deepest, darkest fears. But today something shifted. Earlier, lying in the back of Charvan while I was supposed to be asleep, I felt the urge to check Anwar’s profile. After the way he so thoroughly deceived me, I didn’t believe he could have been honest about the story he gave in his letter, about the reasons why he stole the deck.

  I half expected to be blocked from Anwar’s page, but when I opened it, I was surprised in a very different way. His two most recent pictures were of subjects he never posted before. The first was a photo of him reading on top of a mobile home, calling it his place. The second was a photo of him sitting beside his mom in a hospital bed. I expected to feel fire and fury seeing Anwar’s face again, but instead I just felt heavy. It turns out Anwar really wasn’t lying about some things, after all. And since betraying me, he obviously felt inspired to show the reality of himself for the very first time.

  Even now, I can’t help but feel these posts were meant for me. That they were Anwar’s way of telling me all the truths he couldn’t bring himself to speak out loud. Doing so on social media might not be the best expression, but it’s maybe better than nothing.

  So right here, on this mountainside, I send my own silent message back to Anwar.

  I believe he meant well, even if he didn’t do well. I forgive Anwar.

  Click here

  He could have handled this situation a dozen different ways. Anwar’s actions revealed who he really is.

  Click here

  Today I find a way to be the nurturing Empress. If not for Anwar, then certainly for myself, because holding on to a grudge would be like swallowing a sword. However, I must still remember to carry this lesson like a blade across my back.

  Whatever damage Anwar caused, I’ll prove capable of mending it on my own, alongside the people I love most. I don’t need Anwar to feel whole—I never did. So I certainly don’t need an apology from him to move on. Maybe next time I’ll trust a little less easily, but I will not allow Anwar to rob me of my ability to trust in the first place.

  After all, now that I’ve had a taste, I know there will be others interested in me like Anwar. Better ones. And I owe it to these future loves to be the complete Amelia package.

  Especially because one of those people walk beside me right now. And no matter what the cards hold for us, they deserve all of my best energy.

  Click here

  If today is all about the Queen of Swords, then I must embrace the reality that if you betray a queen, you get the chop. Today I must become a more demanding Empress, because I deserve honesty and integrity. Who knows, if Anwar had been up-front with me from the start, maybe I’d even have found a way to help him?

  Still, I have to remember what enabled Anwar to deceive me in the first place: my own blinding belief that someone like him couldn’t be interested in me. I was so focused on my own insecurities, it never occurred to me to look for Anwar’s.

  He might not be worthy of my forgiveness, but I will strive to remember what he and Rosa taught me: everyone has broken parts they hide. The only way to mend these parts, however, is to make them known. If nothing else, these two placed me on the path to learning this invaluable lesson.

  Then I think: Hell no. I placed myself on that path.

  And I plan to keep climbing until I reach the very top.

  Especially because I owe some honesty of my own to the incredible person waking beside me.

  Click here

  “Pentacle for your thoughts?” Cleo asks, breaking our silence.

  We’ve been hiking so long, I obviously got lost in the loop of my thoughts. Chase and Logan have fallen behind, probably also taking this time to sort themselves out. That spirit seems to be in the air up here.

  “You can always hear all my thoughts, Cleo,” I answer, smiling over at them. “And I’ve done a lot of thinking.”

  I haven’t just spent this long morning reflecting on queens and hanged men. I’ve also spent a lot of time thinking about my last conversation with Cleo, the one where they told me they loved me. Back in Charvan, I didn’t just look at Anwar’s social media. I spent far more time looking over the doodles Cleo drew of us during this trip. Each one has Cleo and me drawn right next to each other, the way it feels like it has always been.

  Except now, these images—our entire relationship—takes on a whole new meaning.

  Cleo’s confession might have taken me by surprise, but I found once I had a little space to process, I already knew exactly how I felt. The realization cut like a knife, slicing my heart right open.

  “I love you, too, Cleo,” I say, clean and clear. “I belong with you. I think I always have.”

  Click here

  “Cleo, in so many ways you’re my best friend,” I begin. “I so badly want to be everything you want, but I don’t have the same romantic feelings.”

  Click here

  “Wait. What?”

  Cleo appears thunderstruck. I know I probably should have built up to this proclamation, but some things are meant to be entered into fearlessly. Goddess knows I should have seen this sooner, looking back.

  “Be careful what you wish for, huh?” I grin. “You wanted Major Amelia. It seems you’ve got her.”

  “But I…” Cleo tries to absorb my words. They stop walking almost involuntarily, as if needing the energy to free up more functions. “I didn’t even think you were bi?”

  “Well, since you’re nonbinary, I’m not sure what identity that adds up to?”

  “Pansexual?” Cleo offers.

  “I’m not sure what to call it. But what I am sure of? I might not have thought of you in a romantic light before, but once I did, something clicked into place. It surprised me, honestly. But then, very quickly, it didn’t. You’re the most beautiful, smart, impressive person I know. I’m into you, Cleo. That doesn’t have to mean anything else, at the moment.”

  Cleo stares back at me through their purple glasses like they still can’t believe what’s happening. Maybe it’s the undiluted sunshine or the thinning air up here, but everything has taken on a slightly surreal quality, heightened and rosy at the same time. If Cleo can’t find the words yet, that’s fine. I have plenty more.

  “I already chose someone who obviously didn’t value me in the end, because I think on some level I didn’t know how to value myself. But you, Cleo, you value all of me. You always have. When the voices in my head tell me I’m too big or too much or just flat-out unworthy, you’re the one who always sees through me. You’re the voice that tells me I’m enough, that I’m beautiful. When I spin out with panic, you’re the one to ground me. I know I need to learn to do all those things for myself, but until then—and hopefully long after—yours is the voice I always want to hear.”

  Tears collect in Cleo’s eyes. I didn’t mean to make them cry, until I realize tears slide from my own eyes.

  “Amelia, always so freaking bold, every minute of every day,” Cleo finally says. “You’ve always inspired me to be brave, to be honest, to speak up. And you’ve always accepted me, exactly as I am. I just never thought…”

  Cleo wipes at their eyes, a smile finally spreading across their face as these words seem to settle.

  “Is this what people mean when they talk about being with someone who makes them a better person?” I ask, laughing a little. “Because you’re the best person I know.”

  Cleo doesn’t answer me. Instead, they step forward and wrap their arms around me. It doesn’t matter that we’re sweaty from the hike or that it’s our first time holding each other when it really means something. Cleo hugs me and it feels like it just fits.

  Then I kiss Cleo.

  The feeling is hard to describe, except with a word like home.

  “Is this really happe
ning?” Cleo whispers, resting their forehead against mine. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Of all the strange things we’ve experienced this trip, this is the part you can’t believe?”

  “Point taken,” Cleo laughs. “Speaking of, I don’t think we’ll ever see Anwar or Rosa again, but I guess we’ll have to thank them if we ever do.”

  “Um, excuse me?” I ask, pulling my head back.

  “I’m not sure I would have spoken up the way I did if they hadn’t pushed us,” Cleo answers. “So in some roundabout way, they’re like our cupids?”

  “I think I’ll settle for us being our own cupids, thank you very much,” I answer. “Watch out world, Clemelia has arrived!”

  Cleo steps back, still grinning like a fool. “Absolutely not. That sounds like a venereal disease.”

  “Ameleo, then?”

  “How about we make sure this is really a thing before we start celebrity-naming it?” Cleo laughs again.

  “But that’s just it, Cleo,” I say, making sure to lock eyes with them. “We’ve already been a thing for years. I just can’t believe it took me so long to finally see it.”

  Cleo’s eyes hold my gaze for a moment, then fall away downhill. They never were so great at taking compliments head on. Well, they’re going to have to get used to it, with me as their girlfriend.

  “Hey, here come Chase and Logan,” Cleo says. “Maybe we keep this under wraps until we know they’re back on solid ground themselves?”

  Seeing the boys round the bend in the mountain trail, my buoyed heart dips. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to know, in a matter of days, thousands of miles will separate Chase and Logan from the person they love most. It reminds me that soon Chase won’t be just down the street from me anymore, either. Soon, nothing about any of our lives is going to resemble the way things were.

  Except for Cleo, I think, turning back to look at them once more. Thank goddess for Cleo, the anchor of my entire life. I just hope I can make them half as happy and self-assured as they make me.

  Then, looking at Cleo’s shining face, I realize I already have.

  Click here

  I watch as Cleo’s face falls, their body deflating like a balloon. Air feels like it leaks out of my own heart, too, now poked full of holes.

  Part of me wishes I hadn’t been so straightforward, but I promised myself to stop editing my thoughts to spare feelings. Cleo deserves the truth. And I have to learn to be thick-skinned enough to tell people these things, even if I know it’s not what they want to hear.

  “I think I already knew that, deep down,” Cleo says. They look like they want to say so much more, but like words are now dangerous things.

  That’s okay, because I have more words for Cleo.

  “I’m so tempted to accept your love, because it feels so unconditional. But I already chose someone who didn’t value me, because on some level I didn’t value myself. It would be just as wrong to choose to be with someone because they actually fill that same void—at least, not when I don’t feel the same way. And you deserve someone who loves you fully, in every way, for exactly who you are. I wish that person was me, I really do.”

  Cleo forces a smile onto their face.

  “Thank you for not sugarcoating it,” they say. “But hey, can you just tell me one thing?”

  “Anything.”

  “Did I ruin our friendship now?” Cleo asks, nearly breaking into tears.

  On instinct, I pull them into a hug.

  “Never,” I say. “Knowing you’ve seen all my nastiest parts and that you still love me? That’s the kindest thing in the world. It doesn’t weird me out, I promise. But I do understand if this has to change some things for you.”

  Cleo sighs, stepping out of my hug. “Maybe some things, once we get to college. But I have a feeling that will happen on its own.”

  College. I still can’t believe, in a matter of days, our whole world is going to change. I’m still so thankful Cleo is going to be on the same island as me when we take this next step, even if there might be some new distance between us.

  “Besides, I always want you in my life,” Cleo adds. “That will never change.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” I respond. “Though you know, you’re totally going to meet someone who worships the ground you walk on. Someone who sees how stylish and beautiful and brave and insightful you are. And I will be cheering that person on every second.”

  Cleo actually blushes, hearing all this.

  “You will, too, Amelia. Just because Anwar was a jerk, it doesn’t mean they all will be.”

  I nod at Cleo. They’re right, but I also know how much work I have to do before the next guy comes along. Like, what if every time I feel like I’m not good enough, I tell myself I am? Or what if every time I inevitably fixate on a part of my body I hate, I focus on a part I love instead? What if every time I pull at myself with panic because I’m not perfect, I tell myself it’s okay to be a bundle of mess?

  If Cleo can see all that in me, why can’t I?

  Whatever the answers, these are all questions for tomorrow and the next chapters to come. Today, I’m just grateful for my friends, every single one of them.

  “Here come the boys,” Cleo says, turning to glance downhill. “But hey, before they get here—did I hear you say I’m your best friend?”

  “Yes, you did,” I say, grinning again. “A person can have more than one best friend, I think. But if it matters, you’ve got the title. You always have.”

  Despite the heaviness of this moment, Cleo still manages to smile, shining bright.

  “Deal,” they say. “Though maybe let’s not mention it to Chase anytime soon?”

  Click here

  When we reach our destination, there’s no second-guessing we have arrived. First, we come upon a plateau at the peak of the trail that overlooks the sweeping valley below. Standing shoulder to shoulder to take in this view, the four of us all together, I already feel accomplished. It’s one truly perfect moment, but it’s not built to last. There’s too much still left to do.

  Next, we gather around what can only be described as a Sworn monument, modeled after The Emperor’s symbol. It’s a metal throne made of a single sword: the blade points up as the backing, while the cross-guards stick out as armrests. The hilt of this throne-sword then boxes out, likely containing everything we came here to find.

  I take one deep breath, looking to the others. Then, with their nods of support, I open the lid to the base box. Inside there is a metal panel, on top of which rests two things: an envelope and a single, face-down Perillian card. Seeing this sitting there for the taking, I look to Chase.

  “I know,” he says. “It seems too easy?”

  “Um, tell that to the very-lengthy hike we just climbed,” Cleo replies.

  “Not to mention, the only way to access this trail is through Brendan’s gated house,” Logan adds. “I’ll bet that’s really the final test to pass, since he’d only guide the deck holder up here.”

  “You know, you’re all getting eerily good at thinking like Perillians,” I say. “Here goes nothing.”

  As I reach down to grasp the final missing card, everything still feels heightened. Half of me cannot wait to finish this, while the other half never wants the journey to end. Half of me feels ready to find the answers I’ve been seeking, while the other half wants to live in the mystery forever. Somehow uniting all these contradictory parts, I pick up the card and flip it over.

  I then gasp out loud.

  “Oh my goddess,” Cleo exclaims.

  “Amelia, isn’t that—” Chase begins, not needing to finish.

  I automatically reach into my pocket and pull out my Dalet locket. Flipping it open, I reveal the pictures inside, of myself and young Grandma, looking like sisters—and also both looking exactly like the Queen of Swords I now hold in my trembling hand.

  Emotion rises in me like steam, flushing and cleansing. I can barely believe what I see. There before me is Grand
ma, young and regal and powerful as ever. I feel her presence here, as if we have suddenly been reunited. It’s like the Hermetic Dawn experience has somehow come to life, springing out of long-hidden history.

  “Perilli painted the Queen of Swords to look like Gran Flo?” Logan asks first. “Or to look like Amelia?”

  I suppose that’s the million-dollar question. Since none of us have the answer, I will myself to turn my attention away from the reflective Queen and onto the envelope still resting in the box. Surely whatever connection Grandma had to Carson Perilli must be explained within? Opening the envelope, I then unfold a few pieces of thick paper covered in handwriting. Flipping to the end, I see an inscription written at the bottom: Ever thine, Carson Perilli.

  A chill rolls up my spine, thick and prickling.

  “Can you read it out loud?” Cleo asks, rising on her toes to try to see.

  It’s a good idea. I need something to steady myself anyway, otherwise I feel liable to float right off this mountain. So I begin to read Perilli’s letter aloud, my voice humming in my chest.

  “To you who have found my Queen of Swords, you who I hope is also the carrier of my final Perillian deck. Maybe this letter will mean something to you, maybe it will not. But my intuition tells me it will. It tells me you climbed this mountain for the same reasons you likely braved the fires and swam the oceans and trekked the forests: to earn what you learn. Here on this peak, breathing this rarified air, you have earned the right to learn the story of the Queen of Swords, the truest muse of The Perillian Tarot.

  “Once upon a time, a young knight fell in love with a young page. They spent years Coupled, The Moon and The Sun, learning much from each other’s differences. It was the first flush for them both, the first bloom of Lovers burning so brightly, their light felt potentially endless. Alas, night befalls all and circumstance pulled the two Star-crossed Lovers apart. However, long after our Tower burned, long after I quite happily married another wonderful woman, long after the birth and maturation of my three children, I still never stopped thinking of that first love: Florence Piccolo.”