Page 36 of Nothing Less than Magic
I’m shaking, beside myself. Initially, I thought this would be fun, even amusing. A way to pass the day and something I could giggle about with Lolly later. But it’s no longer a game. I should’ve listened to my intuition when it told me that this wouldn’t end well. Because tears are streaming down my cheeks, and I’m sobbing uncontrollably.
Misty opens her eyes and reaches across the table for a box of tissues, then slides them towards me. “We’re done for now.”
But I have the strange sense that we’ve only just begun.
Chapter 9
“Do you know a Misty?” I ask Knox when I get home. He’s in my kitchen, cleaning the coffee pot. “I didn’t catch her last name, but I think she’s local. She’s a fortune teller, used to be a nurse practitioner.”
“Can’t say I do. Why?”
“She was at the farmers’ market. I don’t know . . . she seems interesting.”
“How so?”
“She really played the part, right down to the Witchiepoo lace-up shoes to the closed eyes, while she pretended to see my future.”
“Did she have a crystal ball?”
“She may as well have.”
He chuckles. “Not a crystal ball as in a prop. I was being sarcastic.”
“You? Sarcastic? Never. Do you mean a literal crystal ball? Because that would’ve been a little over the top, even for her, though I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“What I mean is did you want her to tell you your future? I was using crystal ball as metaphor. That’s all.
“Ametaphor? You’re getting kind of professorly on me.”
“All I’m saying is if only life was as simple as a crystal ball? If only we could all be assured that tomorrow will be better than today.” He gives me a meaningful look that I can only guess has more to do with me than it does with Misty.
“What if today is already outstanding?” I challenge with a smug grin.
“It can always be better, right? My point being that if we all had a crystal ball telling us that five years down the road, we’d be winning the mega millions of life, we could put up with a lot of crap in the meantime.”
It’s true that if we all knew tomorrow would be better than today, it would make today more palatable. And less heartbreaking. “Yeah, if only I had the power to predict those things for my clients.”
“That’s the point,” he says. “You don’t. No one does. And if you did, it would take the element of surprise out of life.”
“I could live pretty happily without the element of surprise. In any event, I can’t tell if she’s a fraud or not.”
He cocks his brows, as if to sayOf course she is.
“Okay, I’m not saying she can really see into a person’s future or past. As you’ve already established, we both know that’s a crock. But I think she actually believes she can.”
“Does that make it better or make her any less of a fake?” he asks.
“It’s a good question. No, it doesn’t make her any less of a fake. But if she really believes in what she’s doing, it makes her less of a con artist, I suppose.”
“Is this about her or about you?”
Knox is more perceptive than I want to give him credit for. Still, I stop to ponder his words. “Do you think I’m a con artist?”
“No, I don’t. I do, however, think the one-size-fits-all approach doesn’t work. But, hey, if you can give people hope, even if it’s only a glimmer, there’s a little bit of magic in that, right?”
I think about what Knox says long after he’s left. Is there really magic in giving people hope or is it just the opposite? A curse.
For dinner, I throw together the salad fixings I bought at the market along with the pasta and bread. It’s a veritable feast for one person, with plenty of leftovers. Tomorrow, I’ll see if Knox wants some for lunch.
