No Tomorrow

by Carian Cole

  “That’s all great, and I’m proud of you. I just don’t want to get hurt again. I’m petrified of it.”

  “I know you are, and I don’t fucking blame you. I just... I can’t let you go. We belong together.”

  I wonder if because we both feel that way that means it’s right? Is there some cosmic rule that if two people feel they’re meant to be together, then they should be together no matter what? Or sometimes do we have to walk away from the person we believe we’re meant to be with? And if we do... does that feeling that we’re missing our true other half ever go away?

  I wish there was a way to get these answers.

  “My aunt used to say something to me when I was younger,” he says softly. “She used to say, don’t listen to the voices in your head, listen to the voice in your heart, and you’ll always be okay. That’s what I’m trying to do.”

  The voice in my heart has always spoken Blue’s name. Always.

  I finger the beaded bracelet on my wrist, just inches away from my ladybug tattoo, and one of my favorite memories plays out in my mind:

  “There’s a myth that if a man and a woman see a ladybug at the same time, they’ll fall in love.”

  “No… I didn’t know that.”

  “We just looked at yours at the same time.”

  “That doesn’t count. It’s a tattoo. It’s not a real ladybug.”

  “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

  Did that playful conversation seal our fate? Do we ever really know when it happens? That moment where we know, that this person, is our person?

  “Can we take it slow?” I ask. “And see how things go?”

  “We can try, Ladybug. But I think you know there’s no such thing as slow with us.”

  That might be true, but I’m going to do whatever I can to keep everything at a snail’s pace with him.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Ooh, we’re going over there,” Ditra says as we walk from our favorite small Italian restaurant to my car.

  “Where?” I follow her tipsy gaze. She had a few too many glasses of wine over dinner and I really want to get her home. Her attention is fixated on a run-down Victorian house with a big yellow neon blinking PSYCHIC sign in the window.

  I grab her arm and try to pull her toward the car. “Are you crazy?” I laugh. “We’re not going in there. It’s late.”

  She tugs me back. “Come on, it’ll be fun! I’ve always wanted to go, just to see what they say. The open sign is lit on the door.”

  “She’s going to say ‘ooh I see a man and lots of wine and naps in your future,’ then charge you fifty bucks.”

  “So what? It’ll be fun. I’ll pay for both of us.” Hooking my arm in hers, she leads me to the edge of the road and we wait for an opening in the traffic, then skip across the street.

  “This place is scary,” I say, peering up at the peeling paint of the house and the crooked green shutters. “They could be running a sex trafficking ring in there and the psychic sign is just a lure.”

  “I doubt it. I have a gun in my purse, if anything shifty happens, I’ll pull it out, and you run for help.”

  “Great plan. I feel safer already.”

  We climb the worn stone stairs, press the glowing amber doorbell, and wait. A few seconds later, an older woman with huge gold hoop earrings, an entire palette of eye shadow, and about ten gold necklaces draped around her neck answers.

  “You ladies must be here for a reading,” she says.

  I lean closer to Ditra and whisper in her ear. “Wow, she’s got the gift! She knows why we’re here!”

  She elbows me in the gut and answers the woman. “Yes, we’d love to have a reading.”

  “Come on in.” The woman swings the door open and we enter a dim parlor room. Pictures of tigers line the walls in mismatched frames. They’re all crooked and I want to straighten them all right now. We follow her through a beaded curtain into an adjacent room.

  “Please have a seat,” she gestures to two old cloth chairs facing a wooden desk covered in candles, statues, tarot cards, and crystals. Cones of incense are burning on a bookshelf in the corner. Ditra and I sit while the woman lights a bundle of sage before settling into the ripped chair behind the desk. The room smells distinctly like the sweet scent that clings to almost every object in Headlines, one of my favorite local stores to buy silver jewelry and the faerie figurines that Lyric collects.

  “My name is Loretta. Would you both like a reading tonight?”

  “Yes,” we respond at the same time, but inside I’m wondering, shouldn’t she know the answer to that already?

  “Would you like the readings in private, or together?”

  Ditra and I glance at each other and then answer in unison. “Together.”

  “Very good. My fee is fifty dollars per reading.”

  Fifty dollars!

  “Do you take credit cards?” Ditra asks, pulling out her wallet.

  “I do.”

  Ditra hands her a credit card. “I’m going to pay for both of us.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper as Loretta runs the card. The mix of burning incense and sage is filling the room with smoke that tickles my nose, putting me in that awkward I-think-I-have-to-sneeze-but-I’m-not-sure mode.

  The psychic hands the card back and eyes me as Dee signs her name on the receipt. I’m sure I’m still making a strange sneeze face.

  “You’re interested, yet skeptical,” Loretta says.

  I nod. “Yes.” Her comment doesn’t mean she’s reading my mind. I’m sure everyone who walks in here is interested and skeptical. Her talents still remain to be proven.

  “Let’s see if we can change that,” she says. “Who wants to go first?”

  “Me!” Ditra pipes up.

  “Give me your hands, love.” Loretta reaches across her cluttered desk to grasp Dee’s hands in hers.

  “Do you need my name and birthdate?” Ditra asks.

  Loretta smiles. “No, that’s not necessary for a reading.”

  We both watch quietly as Loretta rubs her thumbs against Ditra’s palms. The psychic closes her eyes, exposing bright blue and purple-covered eyelids.

  “You work with your hands,” Loretta says.

  Don’t we all, really? We can’t do much of anything without using our hands.

  “I do,” Dee confirms.

  “You’ve recently settled down. I see love for the first time.”

  “True.”

  “I see many changes coming for you. A wedding.”

  “Mine?” Ditra practically yells.

  Loretta smiles. “Yes. Yours. You will not wear white.”

  “There’s a shocker,” I tease, which gets me a quick glare from Loretta.

  “Sorry,” I whisper.

  “A child will be coming into your life. Soon.”

  “Nope, not me, sistah,” Ditra says. “We have no plans to have children.”

  “I didn’t say it was yours,” Loretta clarifies, and Ditra’s mouth falls open.

  “Well then, whose is it?” Ditra asks.

  “I cannot say, love. But it will change your life.”

  “That’s an understatement. What else do you see? I’m marrying Billy, right?”

  “I cannot see names or faces. But if he is your true love, then yes.”

  “Good. He is.”

  “Someone is watching over you. An older man with dark glasses. He loves you very much.”

  “My grandfather!”

  Loretta nods. “He says to be patient. Be open with your heart.”

  “Oh my God, that is so him!”

  “Your sister will need your support soon. You will have to put your feelings aside to be there for her.”

  Aha! Fail! Ditra is an only child.

  “I don’t have a sister,” Dee says.

  Loretta opens her eyes. “She is sitting right next to you. Sisters come in many forms.”

  Shit. What the hell will I need support with?

  “Wait,” I say. �
��What’s going to happen to me?”

  Dee touches my arm. “We’re sisters. I’ll be there for you no matter what.”

  “We will get to you,” Loretta says.

  “Let’s do her now! I’m happy with my reading. Thank you so much,” Ditra says, pulling her hands from Loretta’s.

  “Give me your hands, love.” Loretta reaches for me, but I’m not sure I want to do this now. My heart is pounding, my palms are clammy, and I still feel stuck in sneeze limbo.

  “I don’t know....” I stammer.

  Ditra rubs my arm. “Piper, don’t be scared. You’ll be fine.”

  Reluctantly, I put my hands in Loretta’s. Warm energy flows up my arms and into my chest.

  “You have been waiting a long time,” the psychic says. “For love and happiness.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Ditra exclaims.

  “Shhh...” I hush her.

  “You have a very warm heart.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You have been on a journey. Finding yourself. Finding that person you love.”

  I nod.

  “You have found him, but he has not found himself.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  “He is shrouded, his thoughts are not always his own. You must be patient with him.”

  “I am. I always have been.”

  “I see a family. With you and him. But he will not be a father.”

  My heart sinks. “What does that mean?”

  “There are many turns coming. Many decisions will have to be made. I see traveling, fun, and fortune. I see keys, and rings. There is a house of books and feathers.”

  My mind spins. “Keys? Like house keys?”

  “Perhaps,” she replies. “There will be illness. I see a dark cloud of death looming. It is not good.”

  I yank my hands from hers. “I don’t want to hear anymore,” I say, near tears. “This is ridiculous.”

  “She’s not dying, right?” Ditra demands. “Tell her she’s okay.”

  Loretta shakes her head somberly. “We all die in different ways. We are all okay in different ways.”

  I stand up, almost knocking my chair backwards into a bookcase full of more candles and statues of angels and devils. “This is bullshit. Let’s go, Dee.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dee apologizes. “Piper gets emotional.”

  Loretta nods, nonplussed. “Some things are hard to hear. I am not here to lie. I do have one more thing to tell you.”

  “Oh, great,” I say sarcastically.

  “There is a brown dog here with you. He is showing me a black and white toy, bringing it to your bed.”

  That sends me over the edge. Bursting into tears, I grab Ditra’s hand and drag her out of the old house. The cold air hits like a wall and I breathe it in deeply, hoping it will cleanse me of all the bad things going through my mind.

  “Oh my God, Dee. What the fuck was that?” I ask when we get to the sidewalk. “Do you think I’m dying? Do you think I’m sick?”

  “Honey, no. She’s just a crazy old lady. This is for entertainment. That’s all. It’s not real.”

  “Really? She mentioned Acorn! And his penguin!”

  “She could have been guessing. Most people have had dogs at one point in their lives, or a relative or friend has one. It’s not specific enough.”

  “I don’t know...” I say swiping my fingers at the mascara burning my eyes and running down my cheeks. “That was creepy as hell. I’m shaking!”

  “Piper, she said I was having a kid. How far-fetched is that? You know me. I will never have a baby.”

  I shake my head. “No, she didn’t say that. She said a child was coming into your life. Maybe I die and you get custody of Lyric!”

  “Oh my God, why would I get custody of Lyric? Wouldn’t she go to her father, or your parents? Do you have a will set up naming me as her guardian?”

  “No! You don’t even like kids! Why would I leave her with you?”

  She frowns. “But I like Lyric. I would take care of her for you because I love you.”

  “Holy shit. Do you think that’s what’s happening? Do you think I have a disease? Should I go to the doctor? Maybe I can stop it.”

  She grabs my arms and shakes me. “Piper! Calm down. You are not dying. You’re totally healthy and gorgeous.”

  “She really freaked me out.”

  “That’s her job.”

  “She didn’t say those things to you!”

  “No, I think that’s part of the game. She tells one person good things and then tells the other bad things to create drama. See? She wants us to go tell our friends so they come here, too. So she can make more money.”

  “I can’t believe you just paid someone fifty bucks to mess with my head!”

  We cross the street and head for my car in the empty lot. “I didn’t know. I thought it would be fun. I’m sorry, Piper.”

  I unlock the car doors from my key chain and we climb inside. Pulling a tissue out of my center console, I clean up my eyes and blow my nose.

  “What did she say again?” I ask. “Shrouded? Keys and travel?”

  “I don’t even remember. That incense was making me high, I think. My head feels floaty.”

  “Mine too. Do you think she drugged us?”

  “Don’t be silly. I don’t think you can drug someone with incense.”

  I rub my hands together. “She made my hands feel warm and vibratey. Maybe she had some kind of druggy stuff on her hands?”

  Ditra rolls her eyes. “Stop it. Your imagination is running wild. Don’t make me slap you,” she teases. “I will slap the crazy right out of you if I have to.”

  “It’s not funny, Dee. I could be dying right now.”

  “I’m just trying to make you laugh. And she never said you were dying.”

  “So it could be someone close to me. But not you, because apparently you’re going to support me.” I start the car and throw it in reverse, backing out of the parking space. “Do you think it’s Lyric?” My heart seizes in my chest.

  “No, I don’t.”

  Blue. It must be Blue.

  “If it’s not me, then it’s got to be Blue that she was talking about.”

  “Piper... if Blue was going to die he’d be dead by now. He was found in a desert a few years ago with no food or water or anything, remember? And he’s been doing drugs like it’s his job for years. He’s fine.”

  “I don’t know. I’m worried.”

  “Don’t be. Things are going good with you right now. You’ve been so happy.”

  “What if she’s right, though?”

  “I want you to stop dwelling on this. No one is dying. She’s a paid entertainer who knows exactly what to say to rile people up. I saw this on television with a famous psychic. They showed how he played with the audience and how he convinced those people to believe him. It’s a mind screw, that’s all.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “I feel like I should give you your fifty dollars back.”

  She waves her hand at me. “Stop it. You bought dinner. We’re even.”

  “Do you think it’s bad that I want to believe the Acorn part? I like the idea of him being close to me.”

  “You don’t need some crazy psychic to tell you that, Piper. Just like I believe my grandfather is watching over me, I think Acorn is still with you.”

  My hands are still shaking from the psychic ordeal when I drop Ditra off and pick Lyric up.

  “Thanks for watching her,” I say to Billy, pulling my daughter into a hug. That nutty fortune teller better not have meant that something is going to happen to Lyric.

  “Anytime. We played video games,” he replies. Ditra kicks off her heels and settles onto the couch next to him, kissing his cheek.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Ditra calls after me as I head for the front door. “And remember what I said!”

  “What did Aunt Dee say?” Lyric asks on the way to the
car.

  I put my hand lightly on her head. “Nothing, sweetheart. Just big people talk.”

  “Is it about me meeting my real dad next week?”

  “No, but I’m very excited about that.”

  She beams up at me. “I am, too! I have a present for him, but it’s a secret.”

  “I think he’ll like that very much.”

  A week from now one of my long-time wishes will be coming true. My daughter will finally meet her father. I’ve spent the past two and a half months having short, fun conversations with Lyric every few days, slowly trying to explain to her that Blue and I met when we were very young, and that he had to move away, how I wasn’t sure how to call him to let him know he had a beautiful little girl, and how we finally found each other again. It’s hard to explain a very complicated relationship to a child, but she took it all extremely well, and has been nothing but curious and excited. The last thing I want is for Lyric to feel like Blue didn’t want her or abandoned her.

  Ditra is right, I have to forget the strange comments from the psychic and focus my thoughts on the positive things happening in my life with Lyric and Blue.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Lyric and I are meeting Blue at the park. Our park. It was Blue’s idea, and it feels right—to go back to the place we first met. The park is common ground, and a familiar place where Lyric feels safe and comfortable. Her school is nearby, and I bring her there sometimes because she loves the swings. There have been times, however, when I have avoided this park when I was especially upset or angry with Blue.

  But those days are in the past, and hopefully will stay there where they belong.

  Today is all about new beginnings.

  Blue is already here waiting at our old favorite picnic table with his guitar case, and a Celtic harp. Lyric tugs on my hand as we get closer, and I can feel the excitement and nervousness emanating from her.

  “Mommy, is that really him?”

  I smile down at her. “Yes, that’s him.” She looks adorable today in blue jeans, tiny black combat boots, a white top, and a faded, distressed denim jacket. Her blond hair has been growing like a weed and is well past her shoulders now.