Nice trick.
I’m alone in the waiting room, running my finger along the spines of paperbacks by Socrates, Plato, Carl Jung, and Eckhart Tolle. I haven’t studied any of them, but I know the names.
Tonk Jr. suggested I read the Power of Now book, then withdrew the recommendation saying, You live in the moment more than anyone I know. Never mind, Soph.
I took that as a huge compliment even though I didn’t know the context.
The bells jingle behind me and I glance to Luke walking in, a silhouette until the door shuts sunshine out. All the windows have black-out curtains, and I like that. It’s as if whoever owns this doesn’t want curiosity. Only the serious need apply.
Luke strolls up, glancing around before he meets my eyes. “Anyone say hello yet?”
“Nope.”
“That’s because anyone was in the bathroom,” comes a female voice. Orange fingernails push open a black velvet curtain, and a woman with short hair and no makeup save for cherry-red lipstick, gives us the once over, one at a time. Him first, and he wins her approval. “Mmmm, very handsome. What gorgeous hair you have, too.” Her amber eyes flick to me, eyebrows flying up. “And dangerously beautiful. How interesting. Come in.”
She holds the curtain open for us. I don’t know how Luke feels but I’m a little fascinated by this rotund woman. There’s a calm wisdom to her that’s no act.
No forced serenity—no smile.
I like her even though I don’t want to.
We’re introduced to a room with old paintings on the wall, the kind you see in a museum, women in gowns, men in pantaloons. There are crystals, but they’re not trying to impress anyone. One small mirror in the shape of an eye faces the door. It’s the only thing that seems cliché, so I point to it as she motions for us to sit on black leather armchairs. “What’s this for?” I ask.
“Keeps the Evil Eye at bay,” she matter-of-factly answers, taking the seat opposite us, an oak dining table resting between. She picks up Tarot cards, but rather than splaying them out, she slaps them aside like they’re in her way. “You aren’t siblings but you are. Why am I getting that? Past life perhaps,” she hums gazing between us with intense concentration. We don’t help her out. “Hmm, yes, there’ve been many past lives where you were together in some way or another. Mostly lovers, once mother and son.” She points to me. “You were the son.” My eyebrows lift, because that makes sense. “But that’s not what I’m seeing. You’ve known each other your whole lives in this incarnation, haven’t you?” Luke and I glance to each other. “I’m right. I thought so. In the same house, are your parents related? No, that would make you related, as well. Hmm, do you live in a commune?”
Luke chuckles and I throw him a smile, with a get-your-poker-face-back look.
Crinkles edge her eyes as she peers at us. “Not a commune but close? You two aren’t in a cult, too sharp to have fallen for that. And too independent, yet…you live in a large home with many people like you.”
“We’re in a motorcycle club,” Luke tells her, leaning back in his chair with legs spread wide.
“Well, shit,” I mutter, dragging my hair back and eyeing him. “Why don’t you just tell her everything while you’re at it?”
“Okay, when you were my son in that past life, you were a pain in my ass.”
“You’re hilarious.”
“I think so.”
To her I ask, “So, are you Luna or is your store’s name just about the moon?”
“Moon. My name is Santosh Khalsa, I was a Kundalini Sikh until I went my own way, following the gifts passed down from my grandmother when they grew too loud to ignore.” She lifts the tarot cards and fans them out, chooses one and turns it over. “Hmm, there’s a divorce in your future.”
Instantly my heart aches and I glance to my lap, frowning and recrossing my legs. Luke shuffles his weight, too.
From under her arched eyebrows she tells us, “No, I’m not speaking about you two. It’s someone you love. A man. The woman is unclear.” She turns another over, edges worn and the image doesn’t look good. It’s of a man lying on a bed with swords pointed at him. “He’s under stress. He’s waiting. Has been waiting a long time, it seems.”
I frown, “You’re looking at me.”
“You’re the one who knows him. I don’t see a connection to you…” she pauses.
“Luke,” he offers.
“Not to you, Luke. The people in our lives we love have invisible cords connected to our souls. This man’s connection is to you.” Her eyes rest on me as she turns several other cards, including death. “He’s connected to you by blood. And seeing Death in a reading means an ending. That’s the divorce I saw.”
I sit closer to look at the cards. “Where do you see the blood connection?”
“The same way I saw where you two live. My visions aren’t exact, they’re more like dreams, flashing images, sometimes vague, others not.”
“I’m not believing any of this, but…what do you see about him, this guy? It’s not my Dad, is it?” Glancing to Luke I mutter, “No way are my parents getting divorced.”
He makes a face that it’s not possible.
Santosh closes her eyes in concentration. “I see a home, not like yours, large and strange, but warm and quiet. Maybe in the woods, or no…but not in a city. That matters to him. He spends a lot of time there.”
Luke’s staring at me to see if it rings a bell.
I nod, “That could be Ben.”
“He has a good heart, which is why I can feel that disconnect. It’s troubled. He’s searching for something. Hasn’t found it yet. We all
