GothiqueFae’s Weblog

I was having my cards read on a whim; I had just been walking by and saw the sign and felt drawn in.  I knocked and a small dark woman opened the door and looked expectantly at me.

            “Hi, I was just…um…”

            “You want your cards read?”

            “Yes.”

            “Come on in,” she opened the door wider and motioned me to come in.  I shyly entered and looked around.  It was a fairly normal room; the furniture looked secondhand but well taken care of, there were some plants hanging in macramé holders; the room smelled a little musty as though she were afraid to open the windows very far.

            “In here,” she motioned to her dining room where she had the stack of cards sitting on the table.  I sat down and timidly put my purse on the floor.  She smiled knowingly and sat down across from me, “you can take your jacket off if you want.”

            “Ok,” I said and slid my jacket off.  She smiled again and began shuffling the cards.

            “Have you ever had your cards read before?”

            “No.”

            “What brought you in?”

            “Just felt like it, I guess.”

            “Would you please cut the deck?”

I nodded and reached out towards the cards.  As I put my hand on the cards I was immediately struck by how they felt.  They looked old but felt new; the cards were smooth and the corners were un-creased but they also felt old.  More like there was an aura of old-ness but a tactile feeling of new.  She looked at me as though she understood what I was thinking.  I cut the deck and slid it back across the table at her.  She immediately turned over three cards.  They were all the same; an Empress.  I sat there staring at them for a while before I looked up at her; she was staring at them as well.

            “What does that mean?”

            “I’ve never seen that before.”

            “So do you know what it means?”

            “The Empress always represents self; but never in threes,” she looked at me in bewilderment, “in threes, well in threes it represents me.”

            “What?”

            “The three Empresses’ are my personal sign it shouldn’t come up for anyone else.”

            “So what does that mean?”

            “Isn’t it obvious?”

I looked up into her brown-black eyes and realized…

            “You’re me.”

            “Yes, I’m you and you didn’t come here by accident Sandra.  I’ve got something to tell you about yourself, its important so pay attention.”

It was at that precise moment that my alarm went off.  She stopped talking and I looked around in bewilderment.

            “No, what were you going to tell me?”

She began to answer when someone shook me.

            “No,” I groaned.

But the shaking persisted and she faded away like a dream with the important information right on her lips.  She looked saddened.

            “Wake up,” he whispered into my ear as he shook me.

            “Wesley…” I heard her say and I gripped the table determined to hear what she was going to say.  “Too late,” she whispered as she faded away.

            “Wake up sweetie,” he shook me a little harder.

            “I’m up, I’m up Nathan.”

            “Your brother, Wesley called.”

            “I’ll call him back later,” I bunched the pillow up underneath me and stared at the wall.  She was not going to come back and tell me anything.  Damn it.

I opened the fridge and frowned.  There was a case of beer, a gallon of milk, a loaf of bread and tub of butter.  Nothing else.  Not one other thing.

            “What the hell is up with this fridge?”

            “Haven’t gone shopping.”

            “Obviously,” I mumbled under my breath and continued staring at the four items blankly as though they might magically sprout into dozens of new and taste-worthy items.  I didn’t even like beer.  Or bread.  I shut the fridge door and opened up the freezer.  Nothing.  Well, almost nothing.  There was one can of juice and three full ice trays.  I scowled and continued staring.  It was painfully obvious that he hadn’t gone shopping in a very long while.  Either that or he just didn’t care.  I voted for the latter.  He didn’t care about a whole lot.  Maybe drinking, or sleeping.  But little else made a blip on his radar.  Not even me, his own sister.  I didn’t expect much after all these years but I still came over and did his dishes and made sure he had more food than what was currently in his fridge.  I still spent time on him because I loved him.  I opened one of the cupboards at random and almost screamed as a cockroach fell out on me.  I brushed it frantically off me and slammed my foot down on the thing about fifteen times.

            “What are you doing?”

            “Killing your infestation,” I shouted back and then grumbled, “Or at least one very small part of it.”

I opened another cupboard carefully certain I was about to unleash the horde.  Nothing fell out so I peeked in cautiously.  There was a bag of ready-made pasta and dust, lots of dust.  I sighed.  I knew he hadn’t eaten anything but bread and butter (and beer) for probably a week or two.  I’d been busy at my new job and hadn’t been able to get over to his house to buy him groceries.  As I opened the rest of his empty cupboards I thought that I should just make him move closer to me.  Although the last time I’d tried to talk to him about that he’d broken all of his dishes and screamed at me for an hour.  I understood, I thought as I opened up his dishwasher and nearly gagged, that he wanted his independence and that he was old enough to take care of himself and competent.  But…but he was my brother and I was taking care of him pretty much all the time anyway and I knew that although he was smart he was damaged.  And I don’t mean mentally.  He was damaged emotionally.  He’d been abused as a kid, spent most of his young life keeping our father’s fists from my face as a matter of fact.  I think he resented me for that.  He never said anything, but I got the feeling that he really did hate me.  I shut the stinky dishwasher and looked at all his dirty dishes.  I shook my head and tried to lift one of the plates up.  It was stuck.  I grabbed a trash bag and loaded all of them in there.  They were nothing special so I figured I’d just buy him new dishes.

            “You’re getting new dishes,” I shouted out to him.

            “Whatever,” he shouted back.

I sighed and tied up the bag.  I looked around.  I had one bag of clothes that I was washing for him, the bag of dishes I was throwing away, the bag with the dead plants that I had dropped off alive a few weeks ago, the bag of beer cans and a list as long as both of my legs put together.  I smiled slightly and took out the DVD of M. Night Shyamalan’s The Sixth Sense I had bought and put it on his coffee table.  It was his favorite movie ever and it was the special edition.  I couldn’t resist when I spotted it and I knew he didn’t own it yet.  I handed the bags to two of my friends who had come along because they adored my brother as much as I did.  They hauled the bags downstairs and shouted goodbye to my brother.  He said goodbye back and I smiled.  I opened the fridge and looked around.  Four things.  Beer, milk, bread and butter.  I smiled again.  Yeah, those were definitely the essentials I smiled and bade my brother goodbye as I headed out to buy his groceries.