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Behind me, Gabriel scoffs.
‘Ignore him,’ Victor says.
‘Should I go to university?’ I ask out loud. It seems innocent enough. Behind me, I hear water slosh as Gabriel leans over the lip of the bathtub.
‘Good question.’ Victor takes the cards back and shuffles them again. ‘Select three from the deck. Place them on the bathmat.’
I select three cards at random places in the deck and place them facedown.
‘The Chariot,’ Victor says, turning the first card over. ‘It tells me you’ve overcome challenges in your life, hard ones, significant ones. You’re bold and confident, able to adapt to the twists and changes of your life. You have a strong desire to be successful.’ Victor smiles. ‘It’s funny you asked about university—a major milestone in people’s lives, something you may feel you need to do to be successful.’
I look at Gabriel, and he looks at me. Victor flips the second card.
‘Four of Wands, interesting,’ Victor murmurs. ‘The Four of Wands symbolises community. Family, but you’re not necessarily related to them. They’re people you can lean on for support, who cherish you and what you bring to the table.’
Victor flips over the final card.
‘The Lovers. Romance is literally on the cards,’ Victor says, looking up at me, and I feel my heart stutter. ‘You’re a very romantic person. You handle rejection with grace, whether this is in relationships or your career. But you tend to hold very idealised views. You may see your life as a series of milestones you must achieve, a perfect life, a perfect career, a perfect relationship. Such is the double-edged sword of the romantic.’
‘It didn’t answer my question, though,’ I mutter, looking down at the cards.
‘Didn’t it?’ Victor asks.
Before I can unpack the response further, the eggtimer rings. Gabriel leaps up from the bathtub with a victorious cry, showering us in ice-cold water.
The hall light is still on when I get home, which is weird. I check my watch; it’s close to midnight, and Margie should be in bed. Closing the new flyscreen door, I make sure to lock it before toeing off my shoes and walking down the hall.
‘Margie, are you still awake?’ I call softly.
Margie jolts awake in her recliner. ‘Oh, Noah, I was waiting for you.’
‘You didn’t have to wait up for me.’ Guilt hits me. If I’d known, I would have come home earlier.
‘I wanted to . . .’ She eases to her feet. ‘I wanted to see your face.’
Stepping past me, Margie ushers me back down the hallway and flicks on the light to my room, revealing an upright piano pushed between my bed and the far wall. It’s an old Yamaha, made from warm oak, with a red velvet stool and a pedal worn down from use. I run my hands over the fallboard, feeling the ridges of wood.
‘It’s the only place it would fit; I know it’s a bit tight,’ she says as I turn to her, hoping my amazement and gratitude is evident in my face. ‘And it will need a tune.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ I murmur, raising the fallboard. My fingers find G and, well, the piano plays a note that is anything but a G. ‘I love it, thank you.’
‘It’s yours,’ she says. ‘As long as you want it. When you go, take it with you.’
‘What?’ I gasp, running my hands over the keys. ‘Are you serious?’
‘It’s spent the last ten years in storage, darling. It deserves to be played.’
Without thinking about it, I turn and hug her—something I’ve never done before. Margie wraps her arms around me and pulls me in tight.
‘You’re a good boy,’ she murmurs against my shoulder. I bury my face in her neck and inhale the scent of lavender and musk that I know I’ll always associate with Margie. ‘You believe me, don’t you?’
‘I do.’ It hurts to get the words out.
Margie smooths her hands over my shoulders as she steps away. ‘I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too late.’
‘I won’t,’ I promise.
Later, in bed, I send Gabriel a photo of the piano.
