It Happens Every Day

by Derek A. Murphy

  The place looked pretty much as he had expected; there were posters that he supposed depicted Tarot cards on every wall, and rickety, old chairs spaced around a simple, card table with a tea service placed directly in the middle. A worn rug lay on the floor and looking down at it; he saw that it was woven with a pentagram in the middle that was bordered by what appeared to be Greek letters. The old-fashioned bell over the door had tinkled as he entered and in seconds, a middle-aged woman in the traditional Gypsy skirt and peasant blouse stepped from behind a beaded curtain that hung over the opposite door. Her dark hair was swept up behind her head and caught with a bangled chain that stretched above her forehead, leaving a loose, heavy ponytail hanging behind her. For some reason, Brian was sure that he had seen her somewhere but wasn’t sure where. Then it occurred to him that she bore a strong resemblance to his beloved Lisa, though she seemed much older. There were lines at the corners of her eyes and firm lines running downward to the corners of her lips. The skin at the corners of the eyes appeared puckered and wrinkled while the heavy makeup she wore did nothing for her appearance, even making her appear older than she probably was. The glittering black eyes, though lively and animated, gave an impression of dead impassivity, like a shark’s.

  She pulled the shawl she wore higher over her shoulders and stepped forward with an ingratiating smile and a slightly accented voice.

  "Ahh. You would like to have your fortune told? Come in, come in. Tell me what troubles you."

  She pulled out a chair for him and before he knew what he was doing, he had seated himself and looked up at the woman’s face. The nose was long, accented by the lines beside it, but the dark eyes crinkled at the corners; matching the warm crinkles at the corners of her mouth, indicating a good sense of humor. Her teeth were uncommonly white and seemed to shine of themselves in the dim light.

  "My fiancée died recently."

  "Then you are looking for someone to help you speak with her. You would like to see her again; know that she is resting well. This I can do."

  As she poured him a cup of tea, he said, "No, you don’t understand. I’ve seen her. Three times today, I’ve seen her. In different places each time. I’m afraid that she’s haunting me and I don’t know why."

  The woman’s eyes narrowed at that and she sat down, looking suspiciously across the table at him with hooded eyes. She said, "You had something to do with her death. You feel guilty about the way she died. I must warn you that if you caused her death, I will call the police."

  Shaking his head, he answered, "No, she went for a jog and a paperboy ran her down with his scooter. She fell off the bridge. I was home in bed when it happened. I want to know why she’s haunting me. I loved Lisa and would never have hurt her."

  Her nod made the bangles on her headdress dance and flicker in the dim light and Brian, looking more closely at them, was mildly surprised to see that they were actual gold coins. His attention was drawn back to her when she said, "I saw this in the newspaper. Very well, I will take you as a client."

  Feeling suddenly self-conscious, he asked, "What do I do?"

  Reaching out to push the teacup closer to him, she said, "Drink your tea. I will read the leaves first and then visit the other realms."

  Picking up the cup, he sipped at it and found it to be scalding hot. Blowing across the top of the cup, he sipped more as she nodded encouragingly. His eyes went to the furnishings of the room and he noted that though most of it seemed shabby and well-worn, her clothes looked new and he wondered what effect she was trying to achieve. The way she moved and her slight, un-placeable accent made him think that she was a consummate showman, but the questions she asked also made him think that she was motivated out of a sincere desire to help, as though she had some personal interest in helping him.

  Finishing the tea, he held the cup out to her and she took it in both hands, moving it in circles over the saucer as she mumbled some unintelligible formula. Quickly drawing his saucer to the center of the table, she upended the cup over it, bringing it to rest as she continued her mumbling, turning the cup several times on the saucer. Finally, drawing the cup away, she placed it to one side; its part ended and her attention no longer on it.

  She leaned over the dregs that pooled and spread in the bottom of the saucer, leaving an odd pattern of bits of tea leaf and the colored liquid. Turning it this way and that, she shot a quick, almost frightened glance at him that just as quickly turned back to the immobile, dispassionate gaze she had worn earlier.

  "You will make a journey of great distance, but will remain in place. One dear to you will make the return journey with you and will fill your heart with love. Beware of yourself; you will journey in a killing rage but will die." She shot him the frightened glance again and continued. "The leaves are very unclear. Though you die, you will also live. The ‘you’ that will die has lived his entire life in anger but the ‘you’ that will live has had a much happier life and will be happier yet; if you live after the journey."

  Feeling shaken, Brian said, "You almost make it sound as though you are talking about two different people. How is that possible?"

  Abruptly placing the saucer on the table, the woman leaned back in her chair as she gave him a troubled look.

  "I read you what the leaves show. There is only one way to interpret them; you must decide how to react to the knowledge I have given you."

  "Is there anything else you can do to give me something more? Something that isn’t so…muddled?"

  Straightening and leaning forward once more, she held out her hands. "Your hands; give them to me."

  He extended his hands to her and was surprised at the static shock he received from her. The shock made him jump and snatch his hands back, but she impatiently reached farther across the table and took them, almost jerking them peremptorily back to the center of the table.

  She closed her eyes and said, "Concentrate on that you most desire. Think of the one that you have lost. And do not speak."

  His hands grew overly warm in hers and it seemed to him that heat emanated from her, making the palms of his hands sweat. As it grew more and more uncomfortable and sweat began to run down his face, he was about to withdraw them forcibly when she opened her eyes wide and almost gaped at him.

  "There are few who can peer across the void into another world. Yet, you are one. You have seen the one you lost because your eyes have pierced the veil between this world and another. You did not tell me that she touched you."

  "I…I didn’t think it was important. Is it?"

  Nodding, she said, "There is a great love between you that transcends even the distance between worlds. Though the ‘she’ that is in that other world is a different person, she will love you though the Veils of Creation stand between you."

  Brian felt his hands begin to shake and drew them below the table to hide them from the woman. He asked, "How is all of this possible?"

  Leaning forward once more, her fingers spread on the table before her, Madam Petra lowered her voice, "It is to be spoken of only in the most dire of circumstances. There are worlds that exist beside this one in space and moving from one to another is not to be attempted unless the traveler is willing to leave everything he knows behind. Know that at exactly sundown, all over the world, the veil is weakened as the Earth travels around the sun and the veil can be pierced for a period of three hours beginning at the moment the sun sits on the horizon. After that, the veil is still weakened enough that it can be peered through until midnight, though travel between the realms is only possible for that three hour period."

  Finding his throat dry, Brian licked his lips for a moment and Madam Petra, divining his difficulty, moved to what he had taken for a cabinet at the side of the room that proved to be a dorm-sized refrigerator, cunningly disguised. Removing a bottle of water from it, she returned, placing the bottle on the table in front of him. He fumbled at the cap until he had it off and took a long drink, nearly draining half of the bottle.

  Gasping, he asked
, "How do the worlds differ? How do I know that I’ll find a Lisa that is just like my Lisa? What if I find a Lisa that has some terrible disease, or is so different in temperament from my Lisa that they aren’t really the same?"

  Her eyes went to where his hands lay on the table and he noticed that they were shaking again. Embarrassed, he began to pull them back to put them under the table, but her hands went to his and she held them in place on the table.

  Gazing deep into his eyes, she said, "The Universe likes order and balance above all things. The world closest to ours is as like ours as if it was the same world; there will be only small differences. In it, a man who is revered in our world as a good and just man, will be less than he is here. The difference may be that he is petty and cruel in his private life. Or, he may be the same, but not have done something that he did here. But, if your Lisa reaches out to you; she can’t be unlike her incarnation on this world. She would never have reached out to you if she was. The further you go from our world on the chain of existences; the less like our world they will be. That is the nature of the order that the Universe requires.

  "If you cross over, you must remember that the Universe likes Balance and will strive to put its house in order. It will not long tolerate two, identical people in one world. It will devise a way to eradicate one or the other of you. Your stay in that world must be brief or you may not survive."

  Still shaking, he upended the bottle of water and nearly choked on it, he was drinking so fast. When he had regained his breath, he wiped tears from his eyes, asking, "H-how do I cross over?"

  "Just as you perceived the other world before. Stare into the sun as it goes down, thinking of the one you love and just as it touches the horizon, close your eyes. Keep them closed for a few seconds and you will feel the wind that blows out of the abyss between the worlds. It will be a chill wind. You must take a step with your eyes closed and when you open them, the world you have entered will look much the same as ours. Then you must go and find your Lisa. Convince her that she must go with you, but do not force her. There must be free will or she will not be able to cross over with you. You must keep her hand in yours or she could be lost when you cross back over."

  Blinking, he broke the hold her eyes seemed to have on his and asked, "How much time will I have on the other side?"

  Taking a deep breath, Madam Petra let it out slowly. "Twenty-four hours. You must stare into the sun as it goes down, thinking of your world, close your eyes and take a step backward to return. And remember that both of you must keep your eyes closed when you return. If you open your eyes, she could be left behind, or neither of you may be able to cross. There is no way to know."

  Troubled, he said, "Lisa is dead in our world. How do I explain it to her family? They might not accept her."

  "Keep her from them for twenty-four hours. After that time, the way for her to return will be closed and the Universe will make its adjustments. Her grave will disappear and the memory of her death will fade from the minds of those your Lisa knew in this world. After that twenty-four hours, neither of you will be able to remember what has happened."

  Looking down at the water bottle, the cups and saucers, Brian felt a moment of trepidation and wondered if he really had it in him to do this thing. Screwing up his courage, he straightened in his chair and looked back into the dark eyes before him.

  "How much do I owe you?"

  Shaking her head, the bangles on her headdress jouncing, the woman said, "I am prohibited from accepting payment for this service. The Universe requires me to give this information freely; it will exact payment from you in some way that I cannot foresee. Find me on the other side. I will help you as much as I can."

  Frowning, he asked, "How will I convince the other ‘you’ that what has happened is actually true?"

  "No matter which world I am in, I will need no convincing. Simply tell me what has happened and I will act."

  Rising from the table, suddenly wanting to be away from the woman and her instructions for entering another world, Brian muttered a quick ‘thank you’, his eyes searching for the door. In a distracted manner, he made his way out the door and inhaled deeply as it closed behind him.

  The mugginess of the night seemed to catch in his throat, making him clear it a couple of times before he walked to his car. The streetlight seemed lost in haze and the junebugs, moths and bats still buzzed it, fallen bugs lying on their backs, beating their chitinous wings against the sidewalk as he walked past them. Down the street, someone in a downtown apartment was killing cats with a guitar, or so it seemed, the guitarist was either a tyro trying to play a sequence he wasn’t good enough for, or a very good musician experimenting. With the heat, Brian wondered how the guitarist could stand having the window open, there was no breeze; use of an air conditioner would seem to be more comfortable.

  Once back in his car, he put the top down and pulled away from the curb, the exhaust sounding like distant thunder; he knew better than to accelerate too quickly. The roar would be audible above the sound of the dying cats, even to the guitarist. The breeze generated by the moving car turned minutely cooler as it blew through Brian’s hair and he sighed as he thought of what he was going to do tomorrow. Was it really worth it? Did the gypsy woman know what she was talking about? If he tried and failed; would she blame that failure on him in some way? What if she was telling the truth and he was actually able to cross to another world and bring Lisa back? In the end, it was that thought that kept him affixed on his purpose. But he would wait until Monday evening to make the try; if it didn’t work, or if the other Lisa refused to go with him, he would at least have been able to say goodbye to Lisa at her funeral.

  * * *

  Madam Petra smiled as the door closed behind him and, moving to the door, she flipped the switch beside it, turning off the lighted sign. She reached behind the curtain in the window and turned the sign there to show that the business was closed. Turning for the door across the room, she walked to it, slipping through the beaded curtain. Her shawl was tossed onto the bed and she unfastened the voluminous skirt, letting it fall to the floor as she slipped the headdress off and laid it on the dresser. Shrugging out of the peasant blouse, she dropped it with the skirt and kicked both of them toward the bathroom; she felt that they were intolerably dirty and needed to be washed. Again.

  Standing in the middle of the darkened room in just her underwear, she quickly unhooked the bra, tossing it toward the other clothes and stepped out of her underwear. She kicked off the flats she wore and moved to the bathroom. Starting the water in the tub, she looked in the mirror and sighed as she looked at herself. "Soon.", she told her reflection.

  Chapter Two

  The sheets felt cool on her skin as she awakened, but with that awakening, Lisa groaned as she moved her legs and the pain of abused muscles forced her to lie still. Staring up at the ceiling, she blinked twice as she remembered what the previous night had been like with Brian. He kept a pint bottle of vodka in the console of the car and emptied it even before they reached the low-water dam on the river. She hadn’t refused to have sex with him, but he behaved as if she had, and she had paid the price for that non-existent refusal anyway. His tastes in sexual practices were becoming more and more depraved and she wasn’t sure she could take much more of it; the beatings and mistreatment were becoming dangerous. Her hand went up to her face and gently prodded an area on one cheekbone. She hissed as she felt the pain and wondered if her eye was blackened.

  Mustering her strength, she pushed herself up and threw the covers off her body. There were a few small bruises here and there, but nothing that more than hinted of the violence she had endured. She had taken a shower as soon as she returned home the night before and simply gone to bed without getting into a gown or pajamas, and she felt the material of the bottom sheet rub against her buttocks. The skin felt as though it had been burned, and she crawled from the bed to stand in front of the pier-glass beside her dresser. Turning this way and that as she perused her
appearance, she saw that though the skin of her buttocks hadn’t been bruised by his belt, it was still reddened. At least today was Sunday and she wouldn’t be seeing Brian; her family generally went to church on Sunday mornings and he couldn’t be bothered to rise that early after a night of drinking. Nor did he care for the dinners her family indulged themselves in afterward; he liked a burger or pizza instead, and mostly just sat around the house, letting the hangover wear off.

  Her attention went from her body to her face and surprisingly, there was no bruise there. The eyelid seemed a bit puffy, but given the time of year, she could blame that on allergies. It was then that she stopped what she was doing and really looked at herself; inside as well as out.

  Why was she wasting herself on Brian? He would never amount to anything and if she had any doubts about that; there was the prime example of his father to point to. Was she really considering marriage to him when she was forced, even now, to come up with excuses for the cuts and bruises he left on her? Was this what she had to look forward to? There was no indication that Brian would ever change; he would always be a bitter, twisted man with no reason to get up in the morning except to feed himself or get another drink. Oh, and she mustn’t forget that he liked sex every day, sometimes several times a day, and would stir himself for that, no matter how bad his hangover was. She ignored the other girls he entertained himself with, but found it increasingly difficult to do.

  She wouldn’t mind the frequent sex if he would only turn back into the boy she had known in school. He had been much gentler then, solicitous of her welfare, thoughtful and kind at most times. There had been only a few instances where he had revealed a hint of what was to come. While she was in college, he had drifted from one demeaning job to another and seemed to have no interest in bettering himself. He had abandoned the friends they had in school and begun hanging out with all sorts of low creatures. That was when he had changed into the poor excuse of a man that he had become; when she was getting an education and her new life seemed to be pulling her away from him. At every turn, he had figuratively dragged her back to be with him in his perpetual adolescence.