“The bad news, for you anyway, is that it’s impeccably accurate.”
I frowned. “How so?”
She cleared her throat and reopened the book, reading directly from the page. “This card could mean that you’re spreading yourself too thin. Sagittarius is adaptable, but that doesn’t mean you should try to do it all. If you do, you risk burning out, or possibly even losing yourself altogether.”
Amy stared at me for a moment, her eyes wide as she gauged my reaction, but then she just burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but laugh too. It was, in fact, a littletooaccurate for my taste, but I had to laugh or I might cry.
“Well that’s fucking spooky.”
“Isn’t it just?”
I reached my hand out for the booklet to have a look, and this time she handed it over happily.
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked, holding it up, and Amy nodded. “Do you actually believe in all this?”
Amy sighed and seemed to think about her answer. She narrowed her eyes, not angrily, but in consideration. Like she was judging whether she could be real with me. I tried to somehow convey telepathically that she could tell me everything; that she could admit to casting spells on me and I’d still be okay with it.
“Honestly?”
I nodded encouragingly.
“I’m not sure,” she admitted, and she slumped slightly. “I mean, I believe in science, and Western medicine, and all that. And I don’t believe that putting a rhodonite freeform under the full moon will cure Ethel’s dementia, just like I don’t believe I’m inherently self-centred because I’m an Aries.”
“Good,” I said, frowning. “Because you’re one of the least self-centred people I’ve ever met.”
We didn’t often compliment one another without softening it with snark, and it took her a moment to absorb what I’d said.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “But I do believe it can be useful. That if I use my birth chart to try to better understand myself, and better communicate with the people in my life, that’s no bad thing. And if I use a horoscope as a prompt for looking at my life through a different lens, that’s usually a good thing.”
I didn’t interrupt her– I could tell from the way she seemed to feel her way through the explanation that this was maybe the first time she’d articulated this out loud.
“And if I give Ethel a crystal as a gesture of love, and of care,” she continued, “then that sentiment isn’t wasted. It’s a reflection of my intention to help her, which I follow up with other actions. Like helping you around the house, and driving her to appointments, and just keeping her company. I give her the crystals because I believe it will mean something to her to know I care, and it certainly means something to me. If there’s some sort of magic to it too, that’s just a bonus.”
I sat there for a long moment after she finished, just nodding. She was right; she showed time and time again how much she cared about Ethel, in ways that went far beyond crystals and readings. In fact, I couldn’t think of a single time she’d used astrology or tarot or crystals to communicate something she didn’t back with her actions.
“What about you?” she asked, and I could tell my lack of response had made her uncomfortable. “You don’t believe in fate, or the stars, or anything like that?”
I didn’t like being put suddenly in the spotlight, and the retort was out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Well, I believe in the stars, obviously. Just step outside and look up.”
Amy rolled her eyes. “Hardy har. You know what I meant.”
“You’re right,” I said, dropping the instinctual smirk. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said, looking at me so intently it was like she was trying to read my mind. And hell, after that oracle card, maybe she could. The thought made me squirm; I definitely didn’t need her seeing everything going on in there.
“Not really,” I finally admitted. “I think I stopped believing in that kind of thing– or stopped wanting to, anyway– when my parents died.”
“Oh, shit, Phil,” Amy said, bringing her hands to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything to do with that.”
I reached across the space between us to put a hand on her knee. “It’s okay. I didn’t take it that way.”
“Good,” she said, putting her hand on top of mine, making me breathe in sharply.
“In fact,” I said, “I think it’s nice that you believe that.”
“It doesn’t compromise your precious sense of free will, or seem like stupid people grasping at straws? That was what Chris always said.”
I shook my head. “Well, first of all, you’re far from stupid. And second of all, all this stuff with Ethel has shown me that free will only gets you so far. That damn card was right; I’ve never felt less in control of her wellbeing, or my own, than I do right now. I do everything I can, staying organised with her meds and consistent with her physio and informed about every new protocol and finding, but none of it stops her slipping away more and more every day. Some days I feel like there’s nothing I can do at all.”
