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“Both my brother and sister.”
“Hmmm,” she nodded. “So now, across from the handle, represents the present. You say you’re pregnant, and I do see this shape here, which could be interpreted as… an egg, for fertility… but there is a large spattering of sharpness here. Do you see how these look like little knives? I’m sensing danger, and evil.” She set down the cup. “Do you feel that you’re
in danger?”
“Well, I feel like I might be. Can you tell me if something bad is going to happen to me?”
She gave me a skeptical look. “I’m not a substitution for physical protection.”
“No, no. I understand that.”
The doorbell rang and I jumped.
“We’ll just let it go,” she said, brushing her hand towards the door while she continued examining the cup. She gently turned it a bit this way and that, thoughtfully. The doorbell rang again but she ignored it, continuing to study the cup. I fidgeted, wishing the intruder would go away.
“Is it locked?” I heard myself ask.
“Yes, I keep it locked when I’m back here,” she said, raising her eyebrows at me rather suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”
“I think someone might be following me. Or maybe not. I mean, never mind. It’s just something I think sometimes, but no one ever is.” I shrugged, like this was a normal thing to say. The bell rang again and Zemma gave me a harsh, critical look. I shrugged again and scratched my neck as she set down the cup with care, rising and disappearing through the heavy velvet curtains into the front of the house.
She seemed genuinely wise. I wondered how she ended up in this tiny shack with so little. I tried to wash my mind of the thought, quickly, quickly. I peered at the right side of the cup, which seemed to represent my future. The good news was that it was not blank. I gave a small shrug and a wry smile to one of the cats, but he just hissed and ran away.
I became aware of minutes ticking by, and finally I stood up, feeling I should go to see what had happened to my host. As I parted the velvet curtain she reappeared, her face white and troubled. She looked at me tensely, her mouth drawn in a puckery frown. She looked stressed, and even a little angry.
“Is something the matter?” I asked her.
“You need to leave.”
“What? Why? Are you going to finish my reading?”
She shook her head. “You need to leave here. Don’t come here again.”
“Did I do something?” I asked her.
She walked past me and removed my cup from the table. She was shaking.
I turned and went back to my chair, and picked up my purse off the floor. I reached inside, looking for money.
“No,” she said. “I’m not going to take anything from you. You need to leave. Be careful, and do not ever come here again.”
“Who was at the door? Was there someone here for me?” I asked.
Silently, she walked me to the door and opened it. Numbly I stepped through and halted on her front step. I turned back to her but she had already closed the door. There was a click and a soft thud of the door being locked, twice, behind me. I surveyed the neighborhood, shielding my eyes from the sunlight. I looked up and down the street for the doorbell ringer, but no one was around. The sun was high and white, and a slight breeze was blowing. It was the same day it had been when I arrived at the little purple house, but I felt as though infinite time had passed. I turned and looked at the house in confusion. Feeling like a fool, I went to my car and got inside, starting the engine, but waiting. The street remained deserted; the little purple house remained still.
“Was it John Spade?” I whispered aloud. I was confused. Her weird house was getting to me. It all probably meant nothing. Bad people didn’t bother to ring the doorbell. Right?
I drove to the Lucky Duckling and bought the blankets that I had apparently been destined to own. Then I went home. I was not used to our stately new fence yet, and the imposing sight of it surprised me, offered a small drop of relief to me, as I remote-controlled my way into the driveway. And there was Adrian. Rich, famous, gorgeous, green-eyed Adrian. He was watering the flowers with a garden hose, shirtless. He paused to playfully spray my tires, and then he pretended he was going to spray me. I smiled and put my window down, stopping the car in the driveway.
“Hi, Babe,” he said, leaning in to give me a kiss. “It looks like someone has been shopping.”
“That would be me.”
“What’s the matter? You look a little dazed. You haven’t been drinking, have you? You know babies don’t like that.”
“Adrian! Of course I haven’t been drinking!” I put up my window and parked the car in the garage. He followed me inside, and like a gentleman, he brought in my shopping bags and paint for me. Along with the blankets, I had picked up some onesies and little socks that were on sale. I switched my sandals for flip flops and took a look through the catalogs and magazines on the kitchen table, waiting for Adrian’s reaction. My purchases had all seemed cute, classy, properly sophisticated, but I was only right about half the time. While I drank a glass of water and pretended not to see, I noticed his face scrunch up a bit at the swab of color on top of the paint can. I turned away.
“Why don’t you come outside with me? I want to show you my plans for the patio.”
