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“Macy, you shouldn’t have gone there. It wasn’t your debt, and I would have rather rotted in jail than have you dancing for those nasty old men.”
“I would rather dance for nasty old men than see you rot in jail. You’re my mom, Janie.”
She burst into tears, and I couldn’t tell if I had said the wrong thing or the right thing. Compelled to hug her, I wrapped my arms around Janie’s shoulders and held tight. She sobbed against my neck, and I felt my eyes starting to burn and sting. It hurt to see her in so much pain.
“I don’t know how things got so out of control,” Janie sobbed. “My life should not be this fucked up! I have a master’s degree in nursing. I run an ICU floor. I’m good at my job. I’m respected. But I married the dumbest, meanest asshole in all of Houston and now my life is a nightmare. I lost my kids. I’m going to lose my license. How am I going to support our family if I can’t work?”
“Janie, we’ll figure it out.” I squeezed her even tighter. “We’ll figure it all out together. We just...we have to take this one step at a time. We do what the lawyers tell us. We work the plan they’ve made. We’ll get through this.”
“No,wewon’t.” Janie gently pulled away from me. “Come hell or high water, you’re going to school. You’re going to be a doctor, and I’m not going to let my problems distract you from that goal, Macy.” She cupped my cheek. “And I won’t let Danny distract you from that goal either.”
“He wouldn’t,” I insisted. “He isn’t like that.”
“We never think they are in the beginning when it’s all roses and romance,” Janie warned.
I wanted to argue with her. I wanted to protest that Danny was different, but I stopped before I said the words. How many times had she told her friends that my dad wasn’t like that? That he was different? How many excuses had she made to others for his behavior?
She was right. It was all roses and romance and lovely, giddy feelings right now. What would happen in August when I moved to College Station? What would happen as I took my first finals and had less time for him? Began studying for the MCAT? Applied for med schools?
Would Danny be willing to take the grueling journey from student to full-fledged physician with me? What about Match Day? Could he even leave Houston? Was he anchored here by his family connections and mob ties? Would he be willing to go wherever I was sent for my residency?
Those were the questions that plagued me as I tried to take a much-needed nap before the shift I had agreed to work. Even with the room dark and cool, I couldn’t fall asleep. Unable to take another minute of tossing and turning, I got out of bed and grabbed one of the tarot decks Danny had gifted me.
Before I started my reading, I pulled a notebook and pen out of my backpack. I turned to a blank page and started journaling to clear my mind of all the negative thoughts and energies that seemed to be swirling around me. I wanted to get a good reading, one that wasn’t tainted, so I let it all out on the page.
But the longer I journaled, the less clear my thoughts became. The more I wrote down, the more confused and uncertain I was. What question did I want to ask? What guidance did I need? Should I focus on Danny? On our future together? On my family? On Janie? My dad?
Giving up on journaling, I set aside the notebook and sat criss-cross-applesauce on the bed. I shuffled the deck of cards until it felt right and started a five-card layout. I wasn’t even sure what I was asking for or what I wanted to know, but I hoped to see something that would offer even a little guidance. Tarot wasn’t a science. It was a mystical art of intuition. Maybe the universe would give me a break and show me something truly helpful.
But as I placed my cards on the bed, my stomach sank and my heart fluttered with fear. Each new card I dropped was worse than the last. Ten of Swords. Nine of Swords. Nine of Wands. Death. Five of Cups.
Betrayal. Death. Heartbreak.
In a fit of panic, I slapped the cards off the bed and onto the floor. I tossed the rest of the deck on the floor and shoved my notebook right after it. I couldn’t even bear to look at the cards that had scattered wildly.
How many times had I read tarot cards for myself or others and found guidance? How many times had the cards been eerily prescient? Could I really ignore them now? Cast them aside as silly and superstitious?
My stomach roiled as I dropped back onto the bed and turned onto my side. I dragged the covers over my head, blocking out the rest of the world and making a little cocoon of safety. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the cards and their meanings.
The thoughts wouldn’t leave. The images of the cards wouldn’t fade. Dread turned my blood cold.
What was going to happen? Who was going to betray me? Who was going to hurt me? Who was going to die?
They’re only cards.
It’s not real.
But what if it was?
My fitful sleep was filled with dreams of tumbling tarot decks, gunshots, blood, smoke, and fire. When my alarm went off an hour before my shift, I jerked awake in confusion. It took me a few moments to get my head straight and remember that I had to get changed and out the door to work my shift.
I stepped on one of the tarot cards and felt immediate guilt. Danny had brought the cards all the way from Ireland for me, and I had thrown them on the floor. I crouched down to pick them up, carefully stacking them and returning them to the small desk. I made my bed and then headed straight for the bathroom to get ready for work.
When I emerged from the bedroom a little while later, Janie had fallen asleep on the couch hugging a pillow. Careful not to wake her, I picked up my phone and wallet and the keys to the loaner car and left through the garage entrance. I sent her a quick text reminding her about my shift and then backed out of the garage.
“Hey, hon!” Crystal greeted me with a tired smile as I clocked in. “Looking a little rough, sweetheart! You having trouble sleeping?”
“Sort of.” I didn’t want to get into my personal problems. “Where do you need me tonight?”
