Finn had never believed in fortunetellers. The whole “fate in your palm” and “destiny in a deck of cards” thing had sounded ridiculous from the time he was a kid, and he’d never encountered any evidence to convince him otherwise. But that Tuesday afternoon, he was walking back from his lunch break with his friend Cal. As usual, Cal was chattering away. He spoke like a runaway train: gaining momentum with every word, barreling on until halted abruptly by some external force. In this case, the derailing came in the form of a small stand on the sidewalk between a shuttered mini mart and a threadbare boutique. Finn wouldn’t have given it a second glance, but Cal stopped short.
“Oh shit! This is so cool!”
Finn turned back, groaning inwardly. He cast a skeptical eye to the sign: World Famous Fortuneteller! Unveil the mysteries of your future! Both the faded letters and the woman sitting beneath them had seen better days, likely many sun-bleached years ago. She looked bored. Her chin rested in a bejeweled hand, her eyes were half-lidded and appeared to see absolutely nothing at all. She stirred slowly to life as Finn and Cal approached.
“Good afternoon, dears. Might I have the honor of reading your futures? You never know what secrets your palms may hold…” The woman’s voice rasped through Finn’s ear. He shuddered. Either this lady hadn’t spoken in years, or she was smoking a pack a day. On second thought, maybe both.
“It won’t take more than a moment, but I promise that the results will be extraordinary,” she continued, eyes landing on Finn’s restless stance. Cal glanced over at Finn, his round face hopeful.
“Fine, but make it fast. I have a meeting in twenty.” He said, and nodded to Cal. “You go.” The sooner Cal got his reading, the sooner he could get back to the tower of paperwork on his desk. Cal stepped forward; his hands held out like a kid asking for candy. The old lady looked pointedly at a smaller sign on the table: $10 a palm. Cal slapped a couple fives on the water-stained tabletop, and she took his hand, peering at it as if it really did hold whispers of the future.
“Ahh. Interesting… I wonder? Yes, just as I thought.” She released Cal’s hands with a final pat. “I see great things ahead for you, young man. Perhaps a raise? A new office, even?”
“Woah! Really? When?” Cal bounced, grinning.
“That is all I can say for now… we’ll have to wait and see.” A conspiratorial wink returned Cal’s smile.
“We really do need to go,” Finn said. “Bill is going to have our asses if we’re late again.”
“But I haven’t read your future yet.” The fortuneteller interjected.
“No, really, I-”
“I insist.”
Damn it. Finn yanked a wrinkled 10 out of his wallet and grudgingly held out his hand. Her dry, papery fingers snared his, and he stood still as she carefully traced the lines of his palm.
“You will soon meet a girl who will change your life.” She said a moment later.
Finn rolled his eyes. Great, another one of those vague claims that could apply to literally anyone. Really, fortune telling was just as bad as astrology. Without looking up, the woman held out a finger.
“I’m not done yet.” Taken aback, Finn stared as she scoured his palm. “You’ll meet her tonight, 9 o’clock, at the corner of 8th and 16th.” Okay… weirdly specific, but it could still mean anything.
“And how will I know it’s her?” He pressed. The fortuneteller released his hand and pinned him with her gaze. A wry smile twitched at her lips.
“Don’t worry, dear. You’ll know.” Noting Finn’s raised eyebrow, she added, “But just in case, she’ll be wearing a silver bird necklace.”
. . .
Jessie hated being late. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what she was. Of all days, why did it have to be a Tuesday? Pop-up construction on the highway had diverted Jessie off her usual route, and now she turned onto the quiet side street nearly an hour later than planned. Her eyes searched for the peeling purple stand but found only empty sidewalk in its place. Shit! If it hadn’t been for that damn construction… she’d just have to wait until next week to see the fortuneteller. Jessie steered back toward the freeway, her head thrumming. Seeing the fortuneteller always calmed her, and without today’s visit she felt somewhat off-kilter. Maybe she’d come to depend on the old woman’s vague predictions more than she’d realized.
Jessie considered them to be friends, at least in a non-traditional sense. She had first met the fortuneteller on a muggy August day nearly two years ago, when she’d stopped at the violet stand on a whim. The fortuneteller had studied Jessie’s palm and looked up with a soft smile.
“A loved one of yours will soon return to health.” The old woman had whispered. Two days later, Jessie got a call from her family. Her mother’s brain cancer was officially in remission.
Jessie had visited the fortuneteller every Tuesday afternoon since then. Sometimes the woman’s advice to switch up routines meant that Jessie would take a different way home and avoid hours of traffic on her usual route. Other times, the fortuneteller’s words would push her to try something completely new, like starting her now-thriving wedding planning business. In return, Jessie was happy to listen to the fortuneteller talk about her old life: circuses in Romania, reading palms at a Fortune 500 company party… that woman had seen it all. Jessie guessed the old woman was lonely and eager to have someone to talk to. After all, it couldn’t be easy when most of the world thought your livelihood was a scam.
Jessie burst back into her office and tried in vain to straighten her rumpled blouse. The occasional delay happened, but being late twice in one day? She detested that. How the hell had her flower order ended up at the wrong shop anyways? Especially after she’d double checked the specified address… she’d had to drive forty minutes each way to retrieve them, only to find that several of the arrangements had arrived crushed and would need to be replaced. She certainly wouldn’t be ordering from that company again. Jessie’s eyes flickered to the consulting room door. Hopefully the Merrimans hadn’t been waiting long; she wanted them to be in a good mood when she had to break the news about the ruined flowers.
The couple turned toward her as she entered the room, and Jessie could see veiled distaste at her now-unkempt appearance.
“I am so sorry.” She began. “The company somehow sent the flowers to the wrong store, even though I double checked…” The man waved her off.
“We wanted to meet with you to inform you that we will no longer be needing your services for our wedding.” He said. Jessie froze.
“Excuse me?” She said.
“We just have a specific vision for our wedding, and we’ve decided to go with another planner who we feel can better meet it.” The woman said simply. “Thank you, though, for your help.” The couple stood, and, without apology, walked out of the room. Jessie collapsed into the chair that the woman had just vacated. Damn it. That wedding had been set to be her biggest gig yet. She’d been going to use the money to hire an assistant to handle some of the drudge work. Handing off the mindless paperwork would have let Jessie take on more clients and focus on the parts of the job she loved: creativity, working with people, and the satisfaction of creating a reality out of a bride’s scattered Pinterest board. But the expansion would have to wait. Jessie still had enough to make rent, barring any unforeseen calamities, but her company was still young. She’d known it was a risk to start her own business: she’d left a stable job and remortgaged her house. She’d given up dental benefits, for fuck’s sake. Jessie rested her head in her hands. Nothing to do now but get back to work.
. . .
Finn hunched his shoulders against the gathering night’s chill. He hated walking home after dark. But he’d been right— Bill had been pissed that he and Cal slunk into the office ten minutes late. To make up for it, Finn had stayed at his desk until the fading light and his rumbling stomach had steered him out of the drab cubicle and into a bar for a greasy burger and a beer. Twined through with the simmering irritation of a bad day, the fortuneteller’s words cycled through Finn’s head. A girl who will change your life… it wasn’t an unappealing thought. He could count on one hand the number of friends outside of work he’d spoken to in the past year, and he’d sworn off dating after a series of truly disastrous blind dates a few months ago. He checked the street sign on the next corner: 9th and 13th. 8th and 16th, the fortuneteller had said. The thought of returning to a silent apartment, where no one, not even a dog or a sullen cat, waited for him was suddenly unbearable. What if the seer’s words hadn’t been complete bullshit? They likely were, but he had nothing better to do. At worst, he’d waste a half hour of his life and then be done with it. Fuck it. He was going. Finn shrugged deeper into his coat and lengthened his stride.
. . .
Jessie had once asked the fortuneteller what her secret was. Did she have Sherlockian powers of deduction? Did she somehow manipulate actions for the promised results? Or was she just ridiculously good at guessing? The fortuneteller had spread her ringed fingers on the table, wearing a smile that suggested she’d heard this question many times before. She’d shrugged.
“I do not manipulate or deduce. But yes, I do guess. I see many possibilities, and I simply find the details that are the clearest. It is possible that the most likely result could change before the event comes to pass, and then my fortunetelling would be incorrect.” The fortuneteller leaned in toward Jessie and winked. “But I’ve never been wrong before.”
. . .
The green road signs shone fluorescent in the glare of headlights. He was there. Finn stopped under a convenience store overhang, eyeing his watch. 8:46. The stinging cold froze each minute into a minor eternity. Nipping wind chased equally piercing thoughts through his brain. Why didn’t he have anyone? You would think that after living in the same city for 14 years he’d have found someone through sheer dumb luck alone. But here he was, 37 years old and no girlfriend or even good friends to speak of. Was this all a good college and an econ degree got you? He had been at the same desk job since he graduated from Northwestern, surrounded by people he didn’t really know and working inhuman hours, and yet he was barely further up the ladder than when he began. He didn’t have hobbies. He hadn’t traveled anywhere for fun in years. He was stuck, Finn thought bitterly. Truly, solidly, damn-it-to-hell stuck. He glanced at his watch again: 9:00. Shit! It suddenly occurred to him that there were four corners of the intersection. Which was he supposed to be at? He could stay at one and hope for the best… but what if he missed her? The crosswalk sign changed, and people streamed across 16th street. Fuck it, Finn thought again, and threw himself into the throng. The traffic lights flickered, and he dashed across 8th street, and then 16th again. He hadn’t seen a single necklace. Finn glanced at his watch again. 10 seconds left. A panicked glance to the crosswalk sign; a firm red hand for an answer. No way it would change in time, but it was his last shot. The street was empty. Before he could think twice, or even think at all, Finn bolted into the road.
. . .
Numbly driving the familiar route back to her apartment, Jessie slowed as a red stoplight approached. She could order pizza for dinner, she thought. Or were there still leftovers in the fridge? A wave of hunger hit her. The light flickered green before she could stop completely, so Jessie hit the gas and accelerated into the intersection.
. . .
A woman screamed. Reflex whipped Finn’s head over his shoulder and two blinding headlights speared him in their gaze. A heartbeat later the car flung him into the air, as lightly as a leaf in a storm, and lightening shattered his bones. Thunder rolled through his ears before his head cracked onto the asphalt and the storm went still.
. . .
Jessie didn’t remember leaving her car. She didn’t hear the screams or register the iron tang of blood. She saw only the prone body sprawled on the asphalt, illuminated by the lights of her still-running car. No no no no! What the hell did she just do? Jessie crumpled to her knees beside the man. He looked bad… was he even still alive? Dread drenched through her body as she grabbed his limp wrist. Light reflected off his skin, and Jessie looked down at a shattered watch. 9 PM. It stopped, she thought. Just like in the movies, the watch really stopped. Red and blue lights pierced the black sky and sirens caterwauled around the corner. Two paramedics leapt down from the ambulance and efficiently created a perimeter, moving her aside, before assessing the body. Their words floated into her brain through a thick haze.
“Fatal accident occurred on the corner of 8th and 16th. Victim pronounced dead on arrival. Time of death, 2100 hours.”
Jessie gasped as the weight of their verdict ground her chest into dust. She took several stumble-steps back, with one hand clasped over her mouth. The other clutched the silver owl pendant swinging from her throat.