Chapter Text
Alex doesn’t believe in magic unless it’s the magic of people. He still can’t wrap his head around how June convinced him to do it – to be frank, he’s been kind of desperate the past few days. He’s been anxious about the upcoming exams – though still far away, he has to know how it will unravel. For the scholarship. And his own ego. He’d never say the latter. Nor the real reason for turning to such drastic measures.
“You should see a friend of mine,” June chirped, croissant in hand, two weeks ago while he was supposed to be writing yet another essay about immigration laws, but ditched his laptop for his sister’s company after a week of nagging. The brunch was quite nice, he had to admit. And the light was nice too. Must savour the early fall until it lasts. “She reads cards and she’s great at it. Told me I was gonna meet this guy named Jack —”
Alex snorted. “Didn’t you dump him after a single date?”
“I did, but that’s not the point!” June stuffed the croissant in her face, continuing, “She saw the future! Aren’t you at least a little curious about how your life will unfold?”
“Bug, with all due respect, sane people don’t believe in that stuff.”
And yet, there he is, trying to find this old secondhand book store June told him about, because apparently, the friend of hers works there, and does tarot readings when no one’s in, which is usually.
Alex pushes in the heavy wooden door and is immediately welcomed by a faint, pleasant smell of sandalwood mixed with the scent of old books. The place is crammed with shelves, and the shelves are crammed with not only books but magazines and pamphlets, even some CDs and pieces of vinyl. The store’s lamps dimly light the posters from the previous century hanging on the walls, and the tall, lean figure too, reading at the register.
“Hey, sorry, is this the Royal Blue?”
Alex steps closer. Now he can see the man in the worn chair: it’s annoying how perfectly the shadows fall on his perfect cheekbones. He frowns in concentration and scribbles down something in a notebook, not even bothering to look at Alex. He wears a loose linen shirt as if a true arts student would. They are so full of themselves, sure that’s why he hasn’t noticed him. Alex repeats the question, this time louder.
“What?” the other grunts unpleasantly, furthermore, in a British accent. What a prick.
Alex hears muffled thuds from pretty close, then sees a girl rushing down the spiral staircase next to the register, saving the otherwise bland but awkward situation. It would have been awkward if the guy was paying attention. Which he is still not doing. God. Way to make a first impression. Alex hopes the girl’s Bea, June’s friend, or whatever her name was. Not that it matters, but she seems much more pleasant than this man.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Alex.”
Bullshit. He turns to her. She’s pretty and she has an accent too. “You couldn’t have possibly known,” he says.
“June texted.”
“I haven’t told her I was coming.”
She shrugs.
“She said you had a vibe. I’m Bea,” she extends a hand. Now that she’s closer, he can see her blue dress decorated with silver flitters. She looks like a princess. “What would you like to know?”
He rolls his eyes but shakes her hand, and they are going up the stairs. Alex glances down. The man’s still immersed in whatever he’s reading, sandy hair, slim hands. He’s reading some fancy book. Alex recognizes the cover of an expensive edition of classics – who the hell takes notes while reading classics? Must be a madman. The smell of sandalwood is getting stronger, though, so that is what he decides to concentrate on.
She leads him to a little closet, just a curtain separating it from the poorly lit corridor, refurbished to be what looks like a witch’s cottage inside. A cat hops down the little table in the middle, on each side, a pouffe, white fairy lights above, framing a tapestry of a circle with weird symbols and coloured lines drawn in between them.
“My spiritual haven,” Bea smiles at him encouragingly. “Please, take a seat. Would you like a cup of tea? Water?”
“Bea, please, if you do end up making tea, would you mind pouring an Earl Gray for me?” asks a voice downstairs, half shouting. Bea huffs.
“I’m with a customer, Henry!”
Alex scoffs to himself. He can’t get over the fact he hasn’t looked up at him when he was talking to him, like that should be the bare minimum – or, worse, and more likely, he decided not to, even though Alex’s a delight, a sight of sore eyes. And this guy’s continuing to ignore him even when he’s out of sight.
“Do you have coffee?” Alex asks instead. This should be about him, and not some other dude.
“I can’t recommend drinking coffee. You’ll need every drop of water in your body to concentrate, and coffee extracts water from your body. You’ll find a bottle of water next to your seat, though. I’ll let you settle in while I make tea for myself. And my brother, apparently.”
I can’t believe I am doing something that is against drinking coffee , he says to himself. He texts their group with June and Nora to pass the time. How long does it take to make a pot of tea?
Alex: what kind of monstrous place have you made me come to, June?
June: You’re being dramatic!
Nora: Have you thought of the question?
Alex: ???
June: Oh my god, you really can’t pay attention for more than 5 mins, smh
Before he could answer, Bea is back with a steaming mug, and takes the other pouffe. The fairy lights jingle as she settles in too and opens a purple glittering notepad..
“So, tell me a bit about yourself!” she says and reaches for a pen. Oh, this is just great.
“Aren’t you supposed to know?” He won’t miss an opportunity to show he’s here against his common sense. This is not the shrink’s office!
“I am no fortune teller. I read energies. What you bring to the table is what you're gonna get in the end. The cards just show you what you manifest.”
Alex groans. Of course, spiritual crap every step of the way.
“It sounds fake.”
“I assure you, it’s not. I think you’d fit the Crowley deck, so that is what we are going to use. It’s a beginner’s deck, so it is quite easy to read, and its visuals stick with you after the reading. At least they did with me when I first had a reading with them,” she explains and lights another stick of incense. Smells like his childhood home, though he has no idea how he remembers this smell. It’s kind of like rain. “The scent’s alright or would you like something else?”
“It’s fine,” he says. It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s here for the future. Or what did she say? Current energies? Whatever. She reaches to the little shelf behind her and pulls out a worn deck. She shuffles it a couple of times, and then hands it over to Alex. The smoke takes over the little room.
“Please,” she adds. Alex looks at her questioningly. Bea raises a brow.
“Do I shuffle it too? Or do I pick?”
“Whatever you feel right,” she says all serious. Is this a cult Alex got a late invite to? “So why have you come?”
Alex is shuffling the deck and is concentrating on not dropping the card which is harder than he first expected it. “I study law. I thought I could use some winding down.” And that is not even far from the truth.
“That much I’ve figured,” she agrees. “Why are you really here, though?”
“I wanna know about my exams” he lies without thinking while shuffling, because right now there is nothing more in his life. Only school, occasionally a brunch with June and Nora – he is too lazy to cook for himself, cause why would he cook only for himself, so he orders takeout, Chinese and Thai, Italian, and when he needs comfort food, KFC, then back in the trenches with the essays and the readings due next week, there is no time to do something else, there is no time to even feel lonely. He, somehow, does, anyway. Between the papers and essays and books and articles, the classes, the extracurriculars, the brunches, the housework, showers, runs, and time for sleep –which he spends wide awake anyway, and when he manages to fall asleep, it’s disturbed by unsettling dreams – he does..
But he just won’t say all of this out loud. He is alright. He pulls through school, meets a nice girl, settles down, gets into Congress, and maybe has a kid. Everyone’s lost in college. The hunger, though. For homemade food and affectionate touch. He doesn’t know which is worse. He places down the deck on the table.
“And now I’ll spread the cards, and you choose four.”
Alex is trying not to be interested, so he groans and hopes Bea hasn’t noticed the little train of thought in his head, which he totally blames on said sleep deprivation. He slides his hand over the spread deck, and as if some of the cards are radiating heat. Which is totally crazy. Sleep deprivation it is. He chooses the four cards that call his hand the most – why not give in to the crazy sometimes? He’s already here, doing it, he might as well go full-blown insane.
“That’s the basic cross. You can’t go wrong with it,” she explains as he is sliding the cards towards her, and she arranges them in a form that does not even resemble a cross. “I usually check the bottom and the top of the deck too. Gives more insight about your attitude to the question.”
With a quick move, she makes the spread into a deck, picking the top and the bottom card, and placing it above the cross. Alex’s heart in his throat, but like, he shouldn’t have to expect anything from a shuffle of random cards with pretty drawings and symbols on them.
“Six of Swords. So your stance is intellect. It usually means there is someone in your life, probably a man: a therapist, a lawyer, that you could turn to for advice, but in this position, I’d say you’re trying to look at this problem too logically,” Bea says, flipping the card. It shows swords in a circle pointing towards the middle, to a cross – now that is an actual cross.
“You’re just saying this because I mentioned studying law,” he says unimpressed.
She has a sly smile on her face. “I say it because the cards told me so. And it happens to be true.”
Alex crosses his arms and lays back. One coincidence. Bea flips the other card closest to her.
“The one on the top is Ace of Wands. A starting energy. Something has just kicked in in your life or is about to. Maybe you meet someone new or feel something new soon, and coming to this reading might be the first step on the way. The element of fire grants you the opportunity to take this next step towards the new thing with much energy.” She glances at him. “I think this is gonna be an interesting reading. Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he tells her. He is nowhere near ready, but one wants to get it over with as soon as possible, right? What could a deck of cards tell about himself that he doesn’t know already? He wouldn’t say he’s curious, but he somewhat is curious.
She flips upside the first card, the one to the left to Alex. It shows a man standing on the top of his head - wait, no, that looks like a -
“The Hanged Man” Alex shifts forward on the pouffe. This can’t possibly be good. He loves his life! He loves his family, he loves school! Yes, he might be busy, that’s what you get when you wanna change the world. He doesn’t let the thought of loneliness cross his mind. But it does anyway.
“Do you feel stuck?” Bea asks, reaching for the notepad. “Sometimes time and self-reflection is the way. Seems like you can’t let yourself go unless this situation is over. There are things you can’t solve yourself. You need to learn to ask for help - and even then, maybe others might not be able to help you, you know. This is not about actions, but patience. Does it ever feel like there’s too much on your plate?”
Alex scoffs. He is not doing too much. He does what he needs to do to get what he wants in life. And it should be so clear what he wants, but now and then, when he thinks of it, he is not entirely sure how to get it. This would discourage the bravest of soldiers. But not him. Never him. “What are you saying?”
“You tell me,” shrugs Bea. “Just energies. Thus, that’s only the current situation. The next card shows what you should not do to reach your goal.” She flips the card. “Oh.” Silence settles in. Alex can see the wheels turning in Bea’s head. The card shows a bunch of swords hanging down, blood dripping from them.
Then Bea goes, “You are lucky, in any other place this would have been… difficult, to say the least. Cruelty, Nine of Swords.”
“Shouldn’t be cruel? That’s easy. Next question?”
Bea laughs and makes a quick note. “It means you should leave the ‘winner takes it all’ mentality behind and focus on being sensitive, subtle, heartfelt. Take a different approach. And know that you are not alone in whatever you are.”
“You just said no one can solve my problems! Which are non-existent, by the way, because I am so fine . By all the meanings of the expression.”
“And you are still here,” Bea flips the card closer to her, the one on the top. Her breath hitches. The card shows a naked woman with golden skin. Alex won’t admit feeling a bit lightheaded looking at her: she feels in tune, she feels unity, she feels alpha and omega. He inhales deeply. The scent now is so much stronger, and he hears a low humming.
“The Universe,” Bea whispers finally. “You know what, forget everything I said and I’ll ever say in this reading. Whatever you do, it’s aligned. It’s predestined. Written in the stars. Bound to happen.”
“So will I pass my exams?”
Bea huffs. “You men really don’t get any of this spirituality stuff, do you?” She flips the last card calmly. Alex adores her temper. “Whatever you’ll be going through, though, will definitely help you get more in tune with your feelings. Prince of Cups. If you follow your heart, you’ll end up home, in a safe place. Traditionally a man, again. Are you close with your dad?”
“He lives in another state,” Alex answers, believing less and less what Bea’s telling him, “But will meet him for Christmas.”
Bea nods. “So you’ll just have to make it to Christmas. All in all, the quintessence is…” She scribbles in the notepad, then makes a quick calculation, “Six. The Lovers. You follow your heart and it all should be fine.” She looks at him now. ”What are your thoughts?”
“I think this is bullshit,” says Alex finally what's been on his mind since the moment June mentioned this whole charade to him. The incense, the symbols, wands, swords, cups, and a cat! Fucking witchery.
“It works,” she shrugs and closes the notepad. The current it causes in the air puts out the incense. “Even if you don’t believe in it. Just reading your present energies.”
The next minute Alex is rushing down the stairs to one of Criminal Law, like a hurricane he sprints by the reception, saying “Bye!” out of breath.
Half an hour later, in the middle of the lecture, which seems very unimportant considering recent events, Bea’s words are still ringing in his head.
*****
A week passes, and Bea’s words are reflecting in the shine of the first, steaming morning coffee, and sometimes in the second and the third, too. Patience? He’s never had patience. So he works ahead of schedule, goes for a run in the morning, then to class, then goes for a run in the evening before retreating to the school library - so many people, he can’t concentrate -, and he still feels like he is not doing enough, his chest empty, craving for more and more and more. Not even a week later he meets June and Nora – who is in town, what a rare occurrence – for breakfast, cause he simply doesn’t believe they can’t help him. Or that they couldn’t help him with this very fictional problem that feels way too real, the realisation stemming from a fucking reading.
“So, how do you guys deal with being a perfectionist overachiever?” he inquires like he was in a podcast, just for the show of it. That it how we deal with problems, right?
“I don’t,” June is slicing up a sweet bun to fill it with cream. “I kinda just am?”
“I try to think about what I’ve already completed.” Nora licks the whipped cream from her hand. “Like high school sucked but we did it anyway, right? The second half of the semester is tough. You hang on, blink twice and it’s over.”
But time flows so slow when at night he tosses and turns, the day before playing in his head, and as recently, words like ‘self-reflection,’ ‘ending up home,’ ‘new opportunity,’ and, of course, the deck guessing him being in law school. Meant to be. Written in the stars. Bound to happen. The only thing that is bound to happen, apparently, is him going crazy over a tarot reading. And he can’t turn to Nora, or June. He wouldn’t be able to bear a ‘ told you so’ – especially when the reading hasn’t come true. Bullshit. For real. This is it not coming true, right?
He can’t bear the loneliness, either, so he takes action the next few days and spends as much time in the school library as he can, but it’s not convenient: he’s too hungry, it’s too far from the apartment, everyone is there, everyone , and when he leaves something at home – which is not a rare occurrence – he has to travel an hour to get, for instance, a laptop charger, or a very important note he made, or, the case that is the last straw, his credit card. But he can totally solve this alone.
On the way home, he looks up coffee shops – no, too busy, he needs a space like the secondhand bookshop at June’s. Oh. That might work. He looks it up, it should be open until nine. Better than all the other options. And he’ll still have three productive hours after retrieving said credit card.
He grabs his credit card in a hurry and exits the apartment with his laptop, a few heavy books, and hopes they’ll let him crash there for the foreseeable future. The cold, dark wind is in his hair, in his black leather jacket, as if it’s grabbing his hand on the way to the Royal Blue, a parent, a sibling, a mentor, a friend – a lover. Someone he cares about, someone he could count on. Still, it’s only the wind. He could only dream of such care and support. A rare occurrence that comes with busy schedules.
Yet again, he is standing at the wooden doors, the memory rushing over him: can’t he help himself? He is helping himself. Checkmate . He pushes open the door, the dim lights are ever the same. No one’s at the register, so he takes his stuff way back, deep into the store, looking for a table.
He checks every row: he makes a note to himself when he sees the law section, which might come in handy later, but there’s classic lit, fantasy, and steamy romance, names he’s heard before, and names he hasn’t. A collection like this always makes one realise how little they know, he thinks as he takes off a book from one of the shelves, something from a gal named Casey McQuiston. He quickly puts it back when he hears someone clearing his throat. He turns.
“Oh, it’s you,” he frowns when he sees the guy from earlier. He looks incredibly posh in that deep blue knitted sweater, sitting at what seems to be the only desk in the store. “Having fun looking down on people?”
“You’ve got an attitude,” he observes. “Henry, by the way.”
“Ah.” Alex stops for dramatic effect. “Didn’t remember.”
“Never mentioned.” He’s clicking his pen. “You’re Alex, right? Are you here to see my sister?”
“No. Just looking for a more convenient place than the school library in the middle of November.”
Henry nods. “Looks like it’s your lucky day.”
Alex scoffs. How observant! And plain, like toast in itself. Yes, he feels and looks like toast without any toppings. “You’re welcome to join,” Henry adds drily. No way in hell.“Or not,” Henry continues and gestures to the other end of the row. “There’s another desk. In fact, that’s the only other desk.”
“I’ll take it,” Alex sighs.
It could be worse. He is miserable, but it could be way much worse.