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“I take it we aren’t talking heavy metal?”
“No. I’m not sure that’s your genre, either.”
“You really do have perceptive abilities.”
“Is there any music that makes you feel relaxed?”
“Actually, yeah. Sylvester – that’s one of my brothers, since you seem to not know much about my family – had an acoustic project for a while. He was going through a folk phase. It didn’t stick, but it’s my favorite of his. If you ever meet him, you’d better not let on, though.”
“He’s not a fan?”
“It wasn’t what made him successful, so of course, he shuns it.”
“You love your brothers, yet you’re critical of them.”
“Isn’t that how siblings are?” I realized I’d been sharing quite a lot with her, for a stranger. Maybe this was what therapy was like. Maybe I’d accidentally gotten therapy after all. I cleared my throat. “Last session... I have an admission. Something important did come up. But also... I was relieved.”
“Relieved that you had to miss our session? Why?”
“This is new to me. And I don’t like doing things that I’m bad at.”
She nodded, as if that answered a lot. “You’re used to being the smartest in the room at your chosen skills.”
I nodded, tight-lipped.
“Well, tarot is creativity. It’s intuition. You can’t be good or bad at it – well, you can, but it’s not like learning a skill like playing an instrument, or a language. It’s more like learning a way of being. Like learning to be brave, or to look on the bright side of life.”
“So it’s harder?”
“It can be, if it doesn’t come natural to you. Did you ever give something up because it was too hard?”
“Not that I can recall.”
“I didn’t think so. Thanks for your admission, anyway. It’s helpful for me to get to know you for these sessions. If, of course, you don’t ghost me next time.”
“I am sorry. About that.”
“We’ll see.” She winked. “Let’s start off slow. I’m going to draw one card for you. It can mean whatever you want it to. Let’s not go in for asking questions of the cards or discussing problems just yet. I just want to see how you respond.”
I couldn’t help but frown in anticipation. Why was I doing this, again? “Sure.”
She took a deck out of her bag.
I could see it was the same one as before. “You decided I’m the ‘classic’ type, then?”
She smirked, shuffling the cards. “We can progress to one of the jazzier decks when I think you’re there. Split the deck for me, will you?” She held out her hands, one empty, one with the deck perched atop.
I reached for the deck and fumbled a little, brushing her fingers as I did. Electricity snapped between us quite literally – I jolted backwards in surprise, and she let out a soft moan.
I looked up at her.
She laughed somewhat shakily. “All those computers you work with.”
I smiled sheepishly. “I’m not a robot, honest.”
“Do you promise?”
I reached over to split the deck, this time without surprise. “You have my word.”
