by Erin Zak
“That’s not a bad thing.” Marci was smiling now. “Being in love isn’t always a pain in the ass. I mean, it is with this guy, but whatever.”
Paul gasped. “I’m insulted.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“Yeah, but here’s the best part,” she said and then sighed. “She’s waiting to hear back from Saturday Night Live—”
“Wait, like the TV show?”
“What the hell else would she mean?” Paul shook his head while chuckling.
“Yes, the TV show.” She drank a large swallow of wine. “She’s going to leave, and there is nothing I can do to stop her. I don’t want to stop her. She’s too talented to stay here forever. Her dreams…I would never let her stay, even if she wanted to, and I know she doesn’t.”
“She might not make it, though.”
“She’s going to make it.” Bernadette forced a smile. “She will. And I’ll be thrilled for her.”
“There’s always long-distance.”
“No way,” she said without even thinking. “I am not cut out for long-distance. I’m also too fucking old for it.” The idea of a long-distance relationship made Bernadette’s insides churn. She had too much anxiety and not nearly enough patience. And even though she liked to believe she wasn’t a jealous person, she knew deep down she would constantly be worried there were other women, younger, more attractive women who would catch Stevie’s eye.
“Well, then, what are you going to do?” Marci adjusted her sitting position, reached over, and picked up Paul’s old-fashioned. She took a couple sips before handing it back.
“Wait? You’re not pregnant?”
Marci laughed. “Holy shit, no. Why would you think I’m pregnant?”
“Because you two never want to go to dinner with me together unless you have news. You ordered water. I figured…”
“No,” Marci said emphatically. “That is not the reason.”
“We do have news, though.” Paul rubbed his hand over the scruff on his face. “I got offered a new position at work.”
“Paul, that’s great news.” She was so happy for him. He had been at the same company for years as a marketing consultant, but he was getting more and more frustrated with the pay and the way he was being treated. “So what happened? Tell me.”
“Well,” Paul started with a shrug, “it’s the regional marketing director. Super happy about it.”
“Wow. This is a good reason to go to dinner then.”
“Bernie…”
She studied Paul over the top of her wineglass. Uh-oh… “What?”
“The job is in Seattle.”
Bernadette’s stomach fell into her ass. She knew what that meant.
“I have to move by the first of the year. The kids and Marci will follow a week or so later.”
“Paul, this is all great news. I promise. I’m happy for you.” She was hoping her smile looked real. She was very happy for him. She really was. But that meant one thing…She would be the only caregiver for their mother.
Paul leaned forward, his forearms on the table, his eyes glued to hers. “You have got to listen to me, though. Are you going to listen to me?”
She shook her head. “No. Because I know what you’re going to say.”
“You have got to consider it.”
“No.”
“She wants it. She told me she wants it. You have got to listen.”
“No,” Bernadette said firmly.
“Bernie, honey,” Marci said as she reached across the table and grabbed Bernadette’s hand. “We’ll help get it taken care of. Okay? You have to let this happen.”
“How do you know it’s what Mom wants? How do either of you know?”
“Because she told me,” Paul answered firmly. “Mom wants to move to this amazing community she found online. It has a whole section of deaf residents. They have events aimed at the Deaf community. Even members of the Deaf community who aren’t residents can attend. Bernie, I went and checked it out. It’s amazing. You need to go with me. We’ll take Mom together. She wants to go see it, too.”
“Y’know, you’ve been helping for a month. Maybe a little more. And you think you know what she wants?” Bernadette felt Marci squeeze her hand. “What?”
“Paul not helping all the time was always my fault,” Marci responded. “I didn’t want him to get tied down to helping. Yes, I regret it a little because you had to do it by yourself for the past couple of years. But I wanted him to live the life we created together. And I want you to live your life, too. You deserve to be happy.”
The second Marci stopped squeezing, Bernadette pulled her hand back. Marci and Paul were crazy if they thought she was ever going to be okay with their suggestion. She slowly slid out of the booth, grabbed her purse, and stood. “I can handle Mom on my own. I was doing it fine before you helped, Paul, and I can do it fine again.”
“Bernie, please do not leave,” Paul begged. “You have to listen to reason. Please, please, listen to us.” He stopped and pursed his lips, and he looked so much like their father, Bernadette found it hard to breathe. “If you aren’t going to listen to us, listen to Mom, for Christ’s sake. She is sick of being held captive in her own home.”
“Captive?”
Paul nodded.
“She said that?” Bernadette could feel the emotion rising in her throat.
Paul nodded again.
Bernadette bit down as hard as she could on the side of her tongue to keep from crying. She was not going to lose it in Joe’s Stone Crab surrounded by all these strangers.
“Sit down, please. Don’t leave.” Paul reached out and tried to grab her arm, but she took a step back, turned, and rushed through the crowded restaurant, through the turnstile door, and out onto Grand Avenue. She was in such a rush, she didn’t grab her coat, her gloves, her scarf, and she didn’t care.
How was she supposed to deal with the news that not only was her only support system leaving, but her mother felt as if she was being held captive in her own home? Bernadette was sick to her stomach. She could feel the bread and butter and two and a half glasses of pinot noir revolting against her. She knew if she didn’t take a second, take a breath, and calm the fuck down, she was going to lose the contents of her stomach. She backed against the building wall after she turned onto Rush Street, the cool feeling of the bricks exactly what she needed. She was hugging herself, the cold December air ripping through her blazer and slacks. Her anxiety was coursing through her bloodstream, making her entire body feel as if it was one giant nerve. She needed to go home, but the last person she wanted to see was her mother, who she had apparently trapped. She leaned her head back against the building and took a deep breath, then another, before she took off in the direction of The Accidental Psychic.
* * *
The signature smell of patchouli and incense was strong when Bernadette stepped inside the shop. There was a person standing directly behind the beaded curtain inside the reading room, but otherwise, it was completely calm. The rush must have already happened, which she was happy about. She moved toward the reception desk. Gone was the pad of paper, and in its place was an iPad. She rolled her eyes. That was absolutely not Connie’s idea. Whoever was in her place must have suggested it, and for some reason, it infuriated her. She hastily typed her name on the screen, the sound of her fingers hitting the glass loud in the lobby.
As her finger hovered over the submit button, a tall slender man came out through the beads and looked around. “Are you Bernadette?”
“I am,” she said softly. “I didn’t even sign in. How did you know—”
“Constance said she had a feeling.”
Of course she had a feeling.
“Follow me.” He moved through the beads and held them back for her to enter. It was strange being on the other side of the experience. She stopped when he did, and he turned to face her. “Constance will be using sign language during the session. I will be interpreting for you while also signing what you say to her.
Everything said is confidential.”
She wanted to roll her eyes again so badly. Now the confidentiality clause is right up front. Connie was being a dickhead about the whole thing. And Connie’s feeling must not have involved an explanation of who Bernadette was. And this guy was such a twerp. He was so much less personable than her. Maybe that’s why the shop wasn’t busy. Because people hated him. She was certainly hating the poor guy, and she barely knew him. “Thank you, but I’m fluent in sign language.”
“Oh?” He took a step back and seemed to be studying her. “I guess we’ll see how you do.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Bernadette smiled. “I’d like to do this reading without you present, if you don’t mind.” He looked hurt, but she didn’t care.
“That’s fine,” he said softly before he breezed into the back room where Connie was waiting.
She took a seat in front of the reading table and crossed her left leg over her right. She folded her hands in her lap, thanked God it was warmer in the room than usual, and waited. When Connie came into the reading room, she stood for a beat, two beats, three, with her hands on her hips, before she finally walked over to her chair. Every move Connie made, Bernadette could hear. The beads brushing together, the swish of her skirt, her breathing, the popping of the ankle she hurt during volleyball their senior year. Connie’s eye contact was fierce, too, and it made Bernadette wonder if she was doing the right thing. She didn’t care, though.
She had questions.
She needed answers.
Period.
“My name is Constance. I’ll be doing your reading tonight.” Connie sat and handed the deck of tarot cards over to Bernadette. She was all business, and her cold attitude was making the temperature in the room drop and the hairs on Bernadette’s neck stand. “Please shuffle these. And set them here when you’re finished.”
Her fingers skimmed Connie’s, and their eyes locked. Connie broke the gaze first, and Bernadette started to shuffle the cards, all while staring at Connie. Regardless of the irritation she was feeling, she was still so fucking taken by Connie’s overall presence that it was suffocating. She started to sweat, and the warmth of the room was no longer a blessing but a curse.
“Do you have a question in mind?” Connie smoothed her hands over the paisley tapestry on the table. She would never touch the cards until she was going to start the reading, but this time in particular, she looked as if she was utterly frightened of the cards, of what they were going to say, of what they were going to reveal.
“I want to know if I am ever going to be able to fall in love with someone else.”
Connie’s eyes widened before she blinked rapidly to break whatever trance she seemed to fall into momentarily.
“Do the love reading. Three cards. Past. Present. Future. Keep it simple, please. And don’t forget, I know what they all mean.” She motioned toward the cards with her hands still clasped together. She wondered if her heart had ever beat as hard and as fast as it was beating right then.
Connie looked physically pained sitting there, her brightly colored scarf wrapped around her head, her blond hair hanging loosely around her face. She knew Connie was worried about what the cards were going to say. Maybe as worried as Bernadette was. But the reading was necessary. Finally.
She kept her eyes glued to Connie’s slender fingers; the mood ring Connie wore was almost glowing in the dim light. The gray color meant one thing and one thing only—Connie was stressed.
After what seemed like forever, Connie flipped over the first card.
The Two of Coins.
She quickly glanced at Connie’s face. The left corner of her mouth twitched. Bernadette knocked on the table to make sure Connie acknowledged her.
“You know what this means.” Connie’s signs were subdued. She was holding back, which meant she wanted Bernadette to read the card, instead of Connie telling her.
“That I’ve been handling everything in my life insanely well.”
“Mm-hmm.” Connie shifted in her seat, and Bernadette knew more was coming. “Also, it could mean you’ve lost sight of the bigger picture. Meaning…you.”
And there it is.
Bernadette wasn’t an idiot. She understood exactly what Connie was getting at. She signed, “Because I haven’t been putting myself first at all.” When Connie nodded, Bernadette wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. Connie was right. The card was right. “You know that card is partly your fault.” She said the words out loud because Connie had her eyes closed, her palms flat on the silk tablecloth. The reading was stressing Connie out just as much as it was Bernadette, but Connie needed to know the truth. She was such a chicken when it came to Connie’s reaction to things, though. She wanted to be able to stick up for herself, but she still couldn’t. Even confronting her now wasn’t going like Bernadette had planned as she’d braved the windy Chicago cold and marched over from the restaurant. Would she ever be able to? Or would Connie always have that power over her?
Connie flipped over the next card, her eyes still closed. Bernadette eyed her, studied her reaction to the card before she laid it on the table. “The Nine of Swords.” Connie’s voice broke through the silence, and then she locked her eyes on Bernadette. “What is causing you so much inner turmoil?”
“It could also mean…” She dropped her hands into her lap. There was no use arguing. “I think you know.”
Connie nodded. At least she didn’t try to get more information. “Don’t let those fears become a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
She stared at Connie. She didn’t look up from the cards, so Bernadette knocked on the table again. Connie lifted her eyes quickly, but the eye contact didn’t last long as Connie pulled the final card and laid it down. Connie’s eyes were filled with tears as she smoothed her hands across the silk tablecloth, then pushed her chair away from the table and stood. Bernadette saw Connie clench both hands into fists before she turned and walked away into the back room.
Bernadette finally focused on the card.
The Four of Wands.
It could mean something as simple as a celebration and coming together as a community.
But Bernadette knew why the card pulled for the future made Connie falter. It could also mean finding someone who completed her. Harmony, marriage. And normally, all of that came as the result of a challenging effort…
Bernadette stood, took one final look at the cards, and walked out of the reading room, through the beaded curtain, and right out the front door, the new interpreter shouting at her that she hadn’t paid.
Chapter Seventeen
Laurie was sprawled on Stevie’s couch, her head lying on two pillows, a book propped on her stomach. “Your phone is on, right?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure? I only came over because you’re supposed to get the call, so you better be sure.”
“Why wouldn’t it be on?”
“Because sometimes, you’re an airhead.”
“Jeez, thanks,” Stevie said as she chucked a pillow at Laurie. It smacked into her book. “I hope you lose your place.”
“Rude.” Laurie propped the book back on her stomach. “You know this is big, right? It could happen any second.” She pointed at the phone. Her hand fell, and she went back to reading. “Now,” she shouted again, pointing again at Stevie’s cell. “Dammit.”
“Look, I don’t know one hundred percent if I’ll find out today. Mikayla said—”
“She said you would find out today.”
Stevie groaned. “I know. I know. Fuck. I’m freaking out. I feel like I’m going to vomit.”
Laurie sat up and turned her body and attention to Stevie, who was lying on the floor with her feet propped on the other end of the couch. “You are going to get this.”
“Okay.”
“But I do have to ask.”
“What?”
“Bernadette.”
“What about her?”
“What are you going to do about her?” Laurie’
s voice was soft, kind, way different than normal.
Stevie sighed. She wanted to be able to be nonchalant and act as if she hadn’t put much thought into it. She wanted to say Bernadette didn’t matter, that whatever happened between them was a brief detour from the road to stardom. But she knew none of that was true. Bernadette somehow managed to sneak her way into every single thought, dream, desire Stevie had. She was everything she didn’t know she wanted. Bernadette was wonderful and beautiful, and goddamn, she was fucking phenomenal in bed. “I’m going to leave and not look back,” she heard herself say. “That’s always been the plan. I’m sticking to the plan.”
Laurie didn’t look satisfied with that answer, but Stevie didn’t care. She was not going to throw SNL away because of Bernadette fucking Thompson.
“Maybe she would come with you.”
“Nope. Her mom.”
“Have you even asked her?”
“Nope.” She looked up at the ceiling, at the exposed ventilation shafts, at the cobwebs she missed the last time she cleaned. “The plan doesn’t include a woman. A distraction. It includes me. And my career.”
Laurie huffed. “You’re kind of a bitch.”
Stevie laughed.
“I’m not kidding, Stevie.” Laurie stood and walked into the kitchen. Stevie moved so she was now sitting with her legs crossed, leaning against the couch. She watched Laurie as she grabbed two beers from the refrigerator. She popped the caps off, then made her way back over to Stevie. “You know she’s probably fallen in love with your stupid ass. And you’re going to break her heart? You’re not going to even try?”
She began to peel the label on her Goose Island Green Line. Laurie was right, but why tell her that now? “It’s not part of the plan.”
“Fuck your plan.” Laurie pointed the neck of the bottle at her. “You are a bitch. And you fucking know it. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve fallen for her, haven’t you?”
