“I’ve just been so nervous since she died. I don’t know what to do.”
I heard the rrrip! of shuffled cards. This was clearly not the same deck my mother had used with me. That deck hadn’t made a sound in twenty years. Mom felt very strongly about the transfer of energy to objects like cards. For some reason, she was using her teaching deck with Tish, which made me even more curious about Tish’s situation and their relationship. My mother was protecting her favorite cards from Tish, and I didn’t know why.
“Why would you be nervous, Tish? You hardly knew Sara.”
The shuffling stopped.
“I know, but I feel like I didn’t treat her very well, you know? Maybe she’ll get back at me somehow.”
“That’s ridiculous and you know it.” I could imagine my mother shaking her head in that tsk-tsk way she usually reserved for me.
“I’m really sorry about the trouble I caused her. Honestly, I was just jealous.”
“Jealous? Of what?”
One of the chairs creaked.
“Of her, of what she could do. Of all the time you spent together.”
“But, I was her teacher. . . .”
“I know. I just feel like I’ve lost my abilities recently. Have you ever given a reading that isn’t from the cards, but you know it’s true anyway?”
The cards riffled again.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Well, did you ever know something about a client and then do a reading to reflect that knowledge? To tell them something they don’t know, but should know, even if the cards don’t show it?” Tish said.
“No . . . I don’t think that’s ever happened. Why are you asking? Have people been saying my card readings aren’t accurate?” Mom was likely sitting up straight, ready to defend her honor.
“Oh no. Nothing like that. I just wondered. It’s such a gift we have. Sometimes it’s a burden, too.”
I played the narrow beam of my flashlight over the small room. A thick layer of dust coated boxes, old blankets, and a child-size teapot that I knew had a chipped spout. My nose tickled and my eyes watered—I quickly buried my face in my elbow to quiet the sneeze.
The room below got very quiet.
“Did you hear something?” Tish asked.
“I don’t think so.” I imagined Mom cocking her head like Tuffy, listening. “That’s probably enough shuffling. Do you have a specific question for the cards?”
“Just general guidance would be good. I need to know whether to act on something or not.”
I could hear the flick of cards on the table as my mother set them out.
Someone gasped and the table below rattled.
“Don’t worry about that card. It just means change. This is not as bad as it looks,” my mother said.
“I can read cards, too, Rose. Danger, threats, and death.” Tish’s voice rose with each word.
“Sit down, Tish.” I panicked for a moment, imagining Tish walking out into the hall and finding Vi guarding the closet.
I heard the chair squeak as Tish lowered herself onto it, and then things got quiet. Mom must have been studying the cards.
My ears strained to hear, and at last she took a breath and said, “Let’s look at this layout as a whole. The cards have to be read as a group or they don’t make as much sense.”
I wished I had a peephole to look at them myself. My back cramped from standing hunched over. The dust tickled my nose and throat. All I needed was a coughing attack and they would know I was just above them.
“Okay,” my mother said. I could tell by that one word that she was steeling herself to give some bad news. “These two in the center indicate how you are feeling and how you are acting. The first one shows a person contemplating the past and former accomplishments. Crossed by the Knight of Cups, it shows you are turning inward.”
I closed my eyes and imagined the Knight on his white horse bearing a golden goblet. The horse’s head is bent and is not looking where it is going.
“That makes sense. I have been doing a lot of thinking lately,” Tish said.
“The next two indicate that you have a large burden that has possibly been taken on a little at a time. Along with the Nine of Swords, recent grief or sorrow, it looks as if you’ve been going through a rough time.”
The Nine of Swords is one of the saddest cards in the deck. A man sits on a bed, head in hands. The nine swords float above his head. I remembered flipping through my mom’s deck as a child and that card always made me feel terrible, like there was no hope of happiness. It had shown up a lot in the months after my grandmother died, when I would sit in my room and do my own readings. One of the other cards may have been the Ten of Wands—a man struggles to carry ten large sticks. His back is hunched, and he looks at the ground as he trudges along.
Tish sniffled, and her chair squeaked again.