Ignoring my defeated tone, she says, “But boiled down, it means that what you need to let go of are your illusions.”
I furrow my brow. “Illusions about what?”
Destiny meets my gaze. There’s something very sad in her eyes.
“Only you can answer that question, sugar. You asked the Tarot how you can move on from your husband. My advice to you, based on this reading, is to take a hard look at exactly what you’re holding onto.” She taps a fingernail on the Ten of Swords. “There’s a betrayal here. Maybe it’s about that.”
I shake my head. “No. That doesn’t make sense. Michael never betrayed me.”
“Are you sure?”
Into my head pops the memory of the time the woman at Michael’s holiday work party called him a prick. Sharon or Karen or whatever her name was, the same woman who stood behind me at his funeral and wept.
I push the memory aside and say firmly, “I’m sure. It has to be about something else.”
Destiny looks at me as if she knows all my secrets, and they’re really bumming her out.
“All right, sugar. You know best. Just sit on it for a spell when you leave. Think it over. And in the meantime, I’ll pray for you.”
Why the hell do people keep telling me they’ll pray for me? Fiona said the same damn thing!
Irritated, I stand. That’s when I realize I left my purse in the car. “Sorry, but I have to run out to my car to get your money.”
Destiny stands too, folding her hands at her waist and smiling at me. “Oh, there’s no charge, sugar. The reading’s on me.”
So now I’m getting the pity discount, same as Eddie the handyman gave me. I must be much worse off than I realize if my face inspires such charity. “Thank you. That’s very nice of you.”
I back up, eager to get out of this house. Destiny doesn’t offer to walk me to the door, she simply stands there smiling sadly, making me feel worse than when I walked in.
As I’m closing the front door behind me, she calls out, “Safe travels, sugar!”
Somehow, that strikes me as the most ominous thing she said of all.
30
Dear Dante,
I hope this letter finds you well. I’m not so well, myself. Actually, I think I’ve blown past unwell and landed squarely in Crazytown, USA, where I’m currently running for mayor.
Have you ever felt like your life is out of your control? Like there are unseen forces pulling the strings, and you’re just a puppet dancing around helplessly, getting jerked this way and that?
That’s how I feel. Helpless. Lost in a storm.
Also more than a little pathetic because the only person I can talk to about my problems is someone I’ve never even met. Who is currently incarcerated for reasons unknown to me. Who might be a serial killer for all I know. （That wasn’t a dig. I’m just pointing out facts.）
Though it’s probably better this way. I doubt I could tell someone I know that a fortune teller named Destiny told me I have psychic baggage, my housekeeper is trying to convince me I’m being haunted, and I’m seriously entertaining the idea of having a séance because nothing “normal” makes sense anymore. Normal went out the window when my husband died.
Also…I’m falling in love.
It’s only happened to me once before, so I’m not much of an expert on the subject. All I know is that I feel incredible when I’m with him and like shit when I’m not. I love making him smile, and I hate making him sad. Which, unfortunately, I seem to have a knack for.
I’m all messed up, Dante. Do you have any words of wisdom for me?
Sincerely,
Kayla
31
Dear Kayla,
You asked if I have words of wisdom for you. The answer is yes. Here they are: You are not controlling the storm, and you are not lost in it. You are the storm.
I’d love to take credit for that, but it’s from a writer by the name of Sam Harris. He was arguing that free will is an illusion, which I’m sure you’ll agree is a thoroughly depressing idea. Bypassing the dour philosophical stance, however, I really like the perspective that chaos isn’t outside us. It’s always within, even if we perceive it to be otherwise.
You’re the chaos. You’re the storm. You’re the one creating the high winds and choppy seas you have to navigate. You’re the source of everything that’s happening.
In other words, you’re the one with the power.
The question then becomes what are you going to do with it?
Sam Harris would tell you I completely wrecked his argument and I have no idea what I’m talking about, but we’re not listening to him.