“Hmm. Are you sure the future is saying five kids? Because I’m kind of feeling like it might be three.”
“Pretty sure it’s five.”
We have always talked about having kids in an abstract sort of way, but now that we’re actually getting married, these talks have become a little more serious. We both want a lot of kids. We’re both only children, and we’ve always wanted big families. But five seems like an awful lot. And he’s not the one who has to push them out.
“See,” I say, “this is why I need to talk to the fortuneteller. And in the meantime, you can try to win me a decent prize this time.”
Earlier in the day, Nick played a game where he had to knock down bottles with a ball. He did spectacularly badly and insisted the game was rigged. Anyway, he won me a tiny rubber duck, which wasn’t really worth carrying around, so I tossed it.
Nick salutes. “You got it. I’m winning you a stuffed animal so big, one of us will have to ride on top of the hood on the way home.”
That remains to be seen.
While Nick goes to find his game of choice, I walk toward the black tent. I’ve never had my fortune told before, but it always seemed like fun. I don’t believe in stuff like that, but there’s no harm in it.
The curtains of the tent are slightly parted, and I push them aside with my hand and peek my head in. The tent is lit by only a few candles, but it’s enough to see the contents. There’s a small wooden table inside, and a folding chair on either side of it. On one of the two chairs sits a woman with long black hair. And by black, I mean black. I’ve heard black described as the absence of color, but I never understood that description until I saw this woman’s hair.
She raises her eyes to look at me, and they’re just as black as her hair. So black that I could not possibly see her pupils. “Hello,” she says.
“Hi.” My voice cracks unexpectedly and I clear my throat. “You do… fortunetelling?”
She nods and gestures at the folding chair across from her. “Please have a seat.”
I hand over my three tickets, which she stuffs into the purple robe she’s wearing. I study her features, partially obscured by the shadows. I can’t tell how old she is. She could be twenty or she could be sixty. It’s so strange.
“My name is Naomi,” she says.
“I’m Rosalie.”
“That’s a pretty name.” Her black eyes flit down to my left hand. “And that’s a pretty ring.”
I squeeze my left hand into a fist subconsciously. The diamond is tiny—all we could afford—but I love it. “Yes. Thank you.”
“He is a good man.” She says it like it isn’t a question. “At least, you believe he is a good man.”
“He is,” I say, with fierce loyalty.
Something almost resembling a smile touches Naomi’s lips. “We shall see.”
She picks up a deck of Tarot cards. I’ve seen Tarot cards before, but I’ve never had my fortune read before. I know the whole thing is silly, but my stomach churns. I wish I had stayed outside and cheered Nick on while he won me another prize （or failed to win me another prize）。
She lays three cards out on the table. She stares down at the cards for a moment, her fingers lingering on the middle card, which is a tower on fire after being struck by lightning, with two men hurling downward to their death. I know nothing about Tarot cards, but this doesn’t look good.
“What?” I say.
“This is The Tower,” she says. “It means you will have a life altering revelation. One that will leave you blindsided.”
I shake my head. “Like what?”
Maybe I’m pregnant. My period isn’t due till next week, but I forgot to take my pill a couple of nights this month. Nick would love that.
Naomi touches the rightmost card. This one is even more disturbing. It’s a picture of a knight riding a horse with a dead person below the horse’s feet. Except the knight’s helmet is raised and you can see it is actually a skeleton. I can make out the word on the card.
Death.
Naomi raises her eyes sharply. She reaches out and grabs my wrist with fingers that are as cold as the skeleton on the card.
“Rosalie,” she hisses. “You must not marry that man.”
“What?” I try to yank my hand away, but she’s holding on tight. “What are you talking about?”
“Please.” Her black eyes lock with mine. “You must listen to me. You think this man will bring you happiness, but he won’t. He will bring death into your life.”