On his way back from Mass he noticed something new: a falling-apart old building on the edge of a crowded parking lot, behind an SAT prep center and a Dunkin’ Donuts. He knew a lot of people in high school used to come to this lot and leave their underwear behind but he didn’t know why. The building looked like a little turn-of-the-century schoolhouse with its sloping roof and white siding. It didn’t belong where it was and he couldn’t believe he had never noticed it.
He found himself walking in the direction of the building before he was even close enough to read the sign in the window, which said PSYCHIC.
There was a broken-down brick chimney peeking just above the roof. He pictured thick smoke coming out of it and a bunch of kids in Pilgrim outfits sitting around a fire while a buttoned-up old teacher talked about all the things they weren’t allowed to do on Sunday, lessons included. But today was Sunday, and when he pushed the door open he found plenty of smoke but no fire. In the Pilgrims’ place was a girl in a tie-dye headscarf and hoop earrings.
“Oh hey,” she said. “Hey!”
She jumped up from the table she was sitting on, dropping her cigarette into a bowl that sizzled. A strong odor like burning roses immediately filled the room. “Crap. That’s right, it was ashtray on the right, incense on the left.” She laughed and her hoops whooshed.
“That smells … strong.”
“Yeah, you should probably leave the door open.” He opened the door to caffeine-fueled honks and screeches. “That’s good. So what’s your name? I know I should be able to just know it, and I have a couple guesses, but tell me anyway.”
“Anthony.”
“Aw man, so close. I was gonna guess Christopher. I’m Nadine.”
He looked from her costume jewelry to her floor-length skirt. She looked like a high school girl on Halloween. “Nice to meet you, Nadine.”
“So you want a reading, right? That’s why you’re here?”
He didn’t know why he was there. Had Father Tim ever consulted a psychic? “I guess so.”
“Cards or palm?”
Suddenly Anthony wasn’t thinking about Pilgrims anymore. Instead he thought about the sound all the bangles on her arms would make as she traced lines like live wires on his open hand.
“Cards, definitely.”
She didn’t look happy with his choice. “Cards. All right. Well, have a seat.”
They both sat on the table since there were no chairs. She handed him a deck of blue cards and told him to shuffle, then fan them out and pick six.
“Well, where do you come in?” he asked.
“I’m going to explain everything, don’t worry.” She looked worried.
He picked his six and she turned them over one by one. At first she placed them all in a row, but then she shook her head and moved them to make two rows of three at the center of the table. Anthony didn’t know what was happening on those cards but he didn’t like it.
The first thing he noticed was the skeleton.
“Okay, for starters, I know you’re not supposed to be afraid of Death,” she said. “It looks scary, sure, but it’s really more about change. Any big changes in your life lately?”
“One.” Just this morning he had been notified that his college email address would be deleted in thirty days if he didn’t contact the dean or re-matriculate in that time. “Some.”
“So that’s probably all it means then.” She tugged at her hoops, tugging her earlobes down with them. “And then this one—the Magician, yeah. That’s good. That means you’ve got some talent.”
“Oh. Good.”
Nadine shifted her weight on the table and sighed. “Look, as you’ve probably figured out, I don’t really know how to do this,” she said. “My grandma had a stroke right before she was supposed to teach me all her secrets.”
“Oh my G—” He caught himself. This was a habit he was determined to break. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. She’s ninety-one and loves hamburgers, so it was kind of fated and all that.”
A gurgling, murmuring sound came from the back of the schoolhouse, like a fish tank. “Nade,” someone burbled. Anthony imagined hungry fish demanding to be fed.
“That’s Grandma now,” Nadine said, jumping up. “It’s a good thing I’m better at taking care of her than seeing the future in these goddamn cards.”
He stood up too. “I have to go.”
“Oh. Well I hope I see you again.”
“What do I owe you?”
“Nothing, obviously. Come back soon and I’ll give you a real reading. Not too soon though.” She smiled. “I have YouTube tutorials to watch.”
*****
He had to walk fast. The deli would be opening soon.
“Anthony!” His father greeted him with a bloody apron and a smile. “Let’s talk business plans.”
“What is there to talk about?”
“Everything,” he beamed. “The future! Now grab that Windex because the display case is looking pretty grimy.”
Anthony went to work on the case. Rubbing out the fingerprints was difficult and his arm still stung from the last time he did this. “I thought that in the future Vinnie was gonna take over. After he graduates from business school, right?”
“Yeah, and what would you be doing? You never let me ask you that. I haven’t asked you that once since you came home.”
“I’d be working in the meantime, at least. I could fill in here and maybe take classes locally.”
“That was the old plan. The new plan is this: Fratelli Deli. Whaddaya think?”
“I think I liked the old plan.”
“The old plan was too expensive, Ant, you know that. Business school was supposed to add an air of respectability. But now I’ve got my good son home and the brothers are in business. Forget about these schools, right? No one pays through the ass and the family stays together.” He held up a container of potato salad over his head like a trophy. “Everybody wins!”
Anthony knew what it meant to win. Winning meant spending thirty years behind a counter. It meant having meaty, hairy arms and dealing in flesh and blood.
He wondered, not for the first time, if he was a bad son, except this time was different. This time, he saw the words in block letters every time he blinked: Am I a bad son?
He gave up on the display case and moved on to the windows.
*****
To be continued. Come back for cake, stay for a sandwich.