ONCE UPON ANOTHER TIME

by McQuestion, Rosary

  “Oh. My. God. Those Pradas are to die for!”

  “Yeah, but the jeweled Rafe Jessica’s you’re wearing are just so cute,” Cacey responded. “Love the wedge heel on those sandals.” They walked into the living room admiring each other’s shoes, when the doorbell rang again.

  “Okay, you guys make yourselves comfortable. Katelyn there’s margaritas in the kitchen,” Cacey said, as she hurried off to answer the door.

  Katelyn took the Pepsi out of my hand. “I don’t know why you feel funny drinking around Cacey, but get over it. Let’s go get a margarita.” She pulled me to my feet.

  As we walked toward the kitchen, she cinched the wide, cream leather belt just a little tighter around the waist of her apricot crocheted sleeveless top. “So, is there anything you’d like to ask the doctor?” She smiled up at me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know.” She glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “Want me to share any sexual pointers with you for your love making with Gavin?” She had a devilish twinkle in her eye, while flashing her signature lady-like Southern Belle smile.

  I rolled my eyes. “No, we haven’t even done it yet.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Hmm, really?” Her brow wrinkled as we walked into the kitchen, which had me wondering when Gavin and I were going to make love.

  It wasn’t long before the house filled with attractive women sporting various shades of highlighted blonde hair. All of them dressed in pastel-colored cropped pants and sleeveless summery blouses with sweaters loosely tied over the shoulders.

  As they settled into chenille-upholstered chairs, and cushiony black walnut framed loveseats, I noticed that even though the women were casually dressed, there was enough bling in the room to fill a mineshaft. Katelyn and I mingled, but I felt oddly out of place in my blue jean skirt, red sleeveless knit top, and non-designer sandals, and not sporting even one tiny piece of bling. Plus, next to all those Davinci Veneer smiles, my store-bought whitening strips didn’t stand a chance.

  After a while, Cacey took center stage and tapped the side of a champagne glass with a silver fork. Remarkably, the gentle chime of the crystal commanded everyone’s attention.

  “Well ladies, aside from the luncheon I have invited a surprise guest,” she announced buoyantly. “I think most of you know this person but here’s a hint. In less than ten minutes, I guarantee this person will know you intimately.” Cacey looked as if she could barely contain her exuberance.

  “It’s Danny the stripper from The Sugar Shack!” a woman shouted. The room filled with cat whistles, cheers, and laughter.

  Well, so much for the stereotypical uptight suburban housewife.

  Again, Cacey tinkled the champagne glass, and the women quieted. “No, I’m sorry, it’s not Danny.” The women let out a soft collective groan. “However, that’s not a bad idea,” Cacey said under her breath. “Anyway, our guest this afternoon is…drum roll please--Mother Paula! And each of you will receive your own private reading.”

  I figured Mother Paula must have been a pretty good scam artist because on a scale of one to ten, the applause and cheers in the room had knocked Danny down to a six.

  “Have fun and bon appétit!” Cacey said, practically jumping up and down.

  Since everyone had at one time or another visited Mother Paula, Cacey decided that I should go first. Mother Paula had set up shop in an upstairs guest bedroom seated at a round blue velvet draped table, her eyes closed as if she were meditating. The quiet tinkle of gently blown wind chimes projected from a boom box on the floor. A sound I’d heard each time I’d seen Matt. The room-darkening drapes drawn for full special effect.

  Except for a dozen or so flickering red votive candles surrounding Mother Paula, there was no other light in the room. Her hair was deep black, shot through evenly with lightning bolt streaks of gray, similar to the character Elizabeth, in Mel Brooks’ “Young Frankenstein.” Her thin straight lips were a gash of red. Aside from that, she looked rather ordinary in her summery red print dress and silver jewelry that glistened when it caught the candlelight.

  For some odd reason, a chant I learned as a child played in my head on an endless loop. Sizzle, sizzle, crackle, pop! Stir it in the witch's pot. Bones, stones, and frog eyes, too. Add worms and gizzards to the stew.

  Mother Paula’s eyes suddenly snapped open. Her dark raven-like eyes studied me quizzically, as I sat down across from her. I couldn’t understand why she was looking at me that way.

  “Hello,” she said. Her voice was gentle and soft. “I’m Mother Paula and you are?”

  Just as the words “snake charmer” popped into my head, I noticed her eyes narrow and her brow furrowed ever so slight.

  “Ah, Aubrey,” I said, while feeling a bit intimidated.

  She picked up a set of tarot cards and shuffled them. “Would you like to shuffle the cards?” she asked sweetly.

  For some reason I had expected a crystal ball. “No thank you, I’ve always been somewhat of a klutz at things like that.”

  She put the stack of cards down, and with one sweeping motion of her hand, fanned them out on the table in front of me. “Please select any six cards you wish, but first you must be in the correct frame of mind,” she said. “Concentrate on questions that might be unresolved issues in your life that need fixing. Don’t say anything out loud, just focus. Try to consider questions that apply to your past, your present, and your future. Ask yourself how your life was before, what it’s like now and how you want it to be in the future. Think about this for a moment,” she said, as she lowered her head and closed her eyes.

  While feeling a bit silly for participating in something so ridiculous, I stared at her wondering how long the ritual was going to last, when she raised her head slightly and opened one eye to look at me. “Sometimes it helps if you close your eyes.”

  I closed my eyes thinking she was the one who was supposed to have all the mystical powers. So why couldn’t she answer these questions herself? After pretending to think about the questions, I opened my eyes and told her I was ready.

  She had me pick six cards from the table and put them in a row in front of me, from left to right.

  “Good,” she said. “The order in which you have selected the cards has determined a sequence that has a beginning, middle, and end. This first card is called the Fool. Placed here it represents inner feelings of how you view yourself right now.”

  Wonderful, so right off the bat she was telling me I have self-esteem issues.

  “You must remember that the fool is not always foolish. Think of it in terms of someone who makes people laugh, like a standup comic.”

  Gavin was always commenting on my sense of humor, maybe that’s what the card meant.

  “The actions of the fool, however, can be something totally different. It could mean being perceptive and cunning, meaning no one can fool you.” Mother Paula’s stare pierced mine.

  Like defending a client, I thought. There’d been times when I sensed all twelve jurors had already made up their minds that my client was guilty, but in the end, I’d been the one who had mopped up the courtroom floor with my opponent. Okay, I bought that.

  “This next card,” Mother Paula continued, “is--”

  “Death!” I blurted out nervously, as I stared at the ominous sickle-carrying skeleton draped in black. “Can we pretend we’re in Vegas and trade this card for a different one?”

  She smiled thinly. “We’re not in Vegas. Again, it isn’t what it seems. The card in this position could actually be a good thing. Its position represents what you want most right now.”

  “Dying?”

  “No, no, no. It’s a metaphorical death, like a dying of old ways. It could mean you are about to or are currently going through an adjustment period in your life.”

  Ah-huh, my more positive attitude, my new boyfriend, my life finally becoming normal… I was beginning to think I was actually catching on to the card game.

  Mother Paula
went through the next four cards quickly and got right into the reading. I politely listened as she took obvious stabs at things such as I had suffered great heartache. Hellooo! What woman my age hadn’t suffered from a broken relationship, a parent dying or a husband falling off a cliff? Then she told me I had a son.

  Still, nothing earth shattering, since I was wearing a bracelet with a “#1 Mom” charm and she had a fifty-fifty chance and guessed I had a son and not a daughter. After ten minutes of what seemed like a lot of generalized information, she told me she was going to attempt to do what she called a “cold reading.” She told me visions were coming to her and that she was going to have her Indian spirit guide help her.

  It took every ounce of strength for me not to roll my eyes, as I thought back to my childhood and my parents who were mystified by such silly things.

  “Someone’s trying to communicate with me. I see a gentleman in a blue long-sleeved shirt--his hair is a sandy color. Do you know who that might be?” she asked urgently.

  I didn’t want to seem uncooperative, but I thought that if she could see him, why couldn’t she just ask him herself. Or she could have had her Indian guide ask his name. Perhaps she hadn’t paid her spirit helpers enough to get that kind of information.

  Just as I was about to open my mouth to respond, my interest piqued, as Mother Paula seemed to be going through some sort of metamorphous. She paused in her speaking and rested her palms flat on the table. Her raven eyes had a mysterious, faraway look, when suddenly her head tilted back and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. A humming sound rattled up in her throat. “Ohmmmmmmmmm.”

  “I see a man,” she said.

  Her voice had a raspy monotone that sounded nothing like the sweet voice she had been speaking in seconds before.

  “He’s teetering someplace up high...the ledge of a building perhaps. No, I see a body of water, crashing waves, thick fog…he’s on a cliff. The man’s name is… Mike, Monk, Mark…Matt. Yes, his name is Matt.”

  Although I’d never known Cacey to pull such a mean joke, I knew someone was behind the charade and I wasn’t amused.

  “You had an argument, he left, it’s foggy outside.”

  I cupped my hand to my mouth while feeling faint. Laura was the only one I’d told, but she wasn’t even at the luncheon and she never would have blabbed that to anyone.

  “There’s another man...he’s very tall and very handsome. This man is in your life now. He’s your soul mate...his name begins with the letter...B. No…the letter…G,” Mother Paula said.

  Gavin! Gulp.

  While her eyelids fluttered and her face contorted into twisted expressions to make her look like a natural for One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest, I looked around the room for a camera. Surely, Ashton Kutcher was going pop in at any moment to tell me I’d just got Punk’d.

  “I see a woman with hair like fire,” she muttered.

  Vanessa!

  Mother Paula began to mumble, her words were barely audible. I practically leapt over the table and turned an ear toward her, in an effort to hear what she was saying.

  “I see a jewelry store. The woman with the fiery hair is with the tall, handsome man whose name begins with the letter G. She loves the man...they are looking at rings...engagement rings.”

  “This happened in the past, right?” I eagerly asked, while totally caught up in the moment.

  While Mother Paula was doing her Ray Charles imitation, her head thrown back, swaying from side to side, I was thinking, okay, so it doesn’t necessarily mean the man is Gavin. Vanessa probably attracts lots of tall, handsome men, someone named George perhaps.

  “No, this is the future,” Mother Paula blurted out.

  I suddenly found myself clinging to Cacey’s words, hoping that what I was hearing was the ten percent error portion of the reading.

  “The handsome man has a mark...a birthmark on his thigh...it’s in the shape of a...”

  Mother Paula’s voice trailed off and I was thinking I had heard her say it was in the shape of a...car?

  “No! A star!” she shouted.

  Okay, that didn’t just happen.

  I splayed my hand over my heart that was beating faster than the beat of tribunal drums at a Survival outcast party.

  Mother Paula let out a loud gasp, her chest rattled as if she were taking her last breath. “The two men…one Matt and one whose name begins with the letter G are...they are...”

  Are what for heaven’s sake?

  “Are one in the same!” she cried out, as her head collapsed to her chest and her arms fell limp at her sides.

  I felt my eyes bulge from my head, as I stared intently at her for any sign of movement. Just as I wondered if maybe her Indian spirit guided her over to the other side and left her there, her head popped back up like a Jack-in-the-box.

  Her face looked refreshed, as if she’d just had Botox lift. She let out a deep breath, smiled, and in a very gentle calm voice asked, “Is there anything you would like to ask me about your reading?”

  Matt, Gavin, even that little witch Vanessa--she saw them all! Seeing that Ashton never showed and knowing my ticker couldn’t take any more excitement, I quickly said, “I don’t think so,” in a voice that sounded as if I’d been sucking on helium.

  Part 3

  Twenty-one

  The shocked expression on the faces of the plaintiff and his attorney as the judge ruled in my favor, brought to mind the unexpected happenings in my own life. However, thoughts concerning my life had dissipated when I saw relief and appreciation in the eyes of my client. I had won the battle to protect her child from the monster whose only right to fatherhood was the sperm he had produced, which made me wonder who was going to help me win my own battle to keep my sanity.

  As the last person filed out of the courtroom, I snapped my briefcase closed and made my way toward the door. I wasn’t the type of person who believed in the kind of hocus pocus performed by people like Mother Paula. However, I never believed in ghosts either, and her prediction of Matt and Gavin being one in the same person mimicked the strange dream I had many weeks before. And that spooked me.

  Preoccupied with the thought of what it all meant, the doors to the courtroom narrowly missed hitting me in the face, as the plaintiff’s attorney shot back into the room.

  “Aubrey, I know you worked on this case pro bono. I admire that. And by the way, congratulations,” he said while extending his hand.

  I turned an ear toward him. “You’re glad I won?”

  He smiled and lowered his eyes, his head bobbed.

  “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever gotten praise from any of my previous opponents.”

  It was difficult to decide which was more distracting, his extremely elongated nose, or his bald misshapen head that resembled someone’s first attempt at spinning a bowl on a pottery wheel. In the year that I’d known him, I had seriously toyed with the idea of introducing him to Melanie.

  “Yeah, well what can I say? The guy really is a jerk,” he said, shaking his head.

  “That happens to be your client, so what does that say about you?”

  As he rattled on with his explanation, I could no longer keep my eyes diverted and zeroed in on the tip of his nose. Its long ski slope shape gave an illusion of the tip extending a good five--maybe six inches from his face. I imagined him dropping down on all fours, his nose to the ground sniffing like a bird dog. The man could probably pick up the scent of a two-day-old wild turkey trail after a fresh snowfall.

  “So, what do you think?” he asked.

  “Um, what do I think about what?” I said, as I refocused my gaze to look him in the eye.

  “I was asking if you would be my date for Gill’s August Charity Ball. I’ve got an extra ticket and I know you don’t get out much, so I thought you’d like to go.”

  Although I was no Lindsay Lohan or Angelina Jolie, my life not featured on a two-page spread in the tabloids, I swore my personal dating life had just as much notoriety.

>   “Thank you, but I’m seeing someone.”

  I gave a congenial nod and walked out of the courtroom, while thinking about the prediction Mother Paula had made. As I took the stairwell at the end of the hall, I scoffed at the ridiculous notion that Gavin and Vanessa would shop for engagement rings. However, what did bother me was what the Queen of Voodoo had said about Matt and Gavin, implying they were one in the same person--a preposterous thought.

  Clattering down the marble stairway, I thought about my encounters with Matt. To see him, feel his touch, and talk to him was also preposterous—yet, a fact.

  The sound of gentle footfalls resounding throughout the stairwell interrupted my thoughts. Stopping to listen, a suffocating silence consumed me, as I looked upward toward the second landing.

  You’re letting it all get to you.

  I moved on, reaching the first floor following the L-shaped hallway that would eventually lead to an exit at the back of the building. Again, footsteps stalked me. The L-shaped configuration of the hall behind me blocked sight of who was following me. I walked a little faster, but as the haunting sound of footsteps sped up to my pace, instinctively I began to sprint. All the while, I kept thinking about the plaintiff’s threat to get back at his wife. And there was that grisly sneer he gave me like a lion ready to devour his prey.

  A shadow grew on the wall, as my heart began to race remembering the empty stare in his eyes, like the circuits in his brain could discharge into the same violent behavior that cost him visitation rights to his daughter.

  Stop running, I screamed in my head. Out of breath, but ready to take a stand to let that brute know he’s not going to scare me, I turned quickly and bumped right into Mr. Ski Nose. Angry that he’d frightened me, I went to swat him with my briefcase, but he turned his head and put his arm up to block the hit.

  “What are you doing?” he asked in a very surprised tone.

  My eyes narrowed. “Why are you following me?”

  He held up a file folder. “I think you forgot this. It was lying on the seat of the chair at the table.”