The Hero

The chain had finally broken. Snapped right apart and smashed her sign on the ground.

It would have been surprising–by all means, it should have been surprising. The old rickety thing had been swinging on one chain for years and it damn well should have been swinging for many more. After all her foiled, painful attempts to fix the thing, it deserved it. Yet there it was, her namesake, shattered on the ground. The vexatious purple letters of Fortune Teller mocking her from the splinters. A piqued smirk curled across her lips as she gathered the fractured pieces.

No… it truly wasn’t surprising that the perpetual, swaying sign had finally met its end. Nothing really was surprising anymore, not after this morning.

Brushing aside such thoughts, she glanced towards her shop. It had never been the prettiest of buildings. Hell, the thing had been falling apart since before she’d even thought of purchasing it. Squeezed between two larger, oppressive buildings and painted a dismal gray, Fortune Teller just didn’t possess the same eye-catching pop as some of the other outlets. It just sort of existed, obnubilated, between the barely contained neon of a promiscuous studio and obnoxious advertising of some faux insurance agency.

She used to think the placement of the building to be rather ironic. Over cheap margaritas–once the bubble juice entrenched itself deep within her veins–she would often joke to friends about her little slice of scammer heaven.

“Best spot in the world to nail the suckers!” She’d say, laughing to the tune of good music and better booze.

It had been fun, she supposed. Her scam. Her act. Her craft. There was something just so pleasurable about concocting the future of strangers. What could she deign from their appearance, their body language, and their voice that would allow her to spin such a relatable a plausible tail it would have them sprinting back to her? Did they want her honest opinion, or were they desperately hoping for something optimistic? Her favorite customers were the ones that came into her shop for the novelty.

They would walk in confidently with friends, snapping pictures of the Halloween decorations she’d gotten cheap at a thrift store and complain about how fake it all was. They would laugh at the crystal ball. Giggle at the tarot cards. Snicker at how ticklish their friend was during a palm reading. They were her favorite because each and everyone had a similar gleam in their eye. Sure, they could dismiss and laugh at the theatrics, but she could tell. She could tell all of them wanted it to be real. She had real fun with those fortunes…

Perhaps she was just reminiscing a lost era. With every step she’d taken to Fortune Teller that day, it had felt as though she was moving further and further away from the past. It was like it was fading away, as though she’d been looking forward so long… she’d forgotten how to look back. With every step up the single step up the stairs, she became more unsure.

Step…

Had she–had she actually done the things she’d meant to do?

Step….

Or had she only thought so?

Step…

She had the memory of doing them but… had she actually?

Step…

She stumbled. A jolt of adrenaline flowed like fire through her veins when her feet found no more stairs. Her cheeks twinged as she grimaced. Well… that had been surprising… despite having been expected. A choked laugh escaped her throat as she rummaged through her pockets for the keys. She sighed. Enough of this over-glorified existentialism. Really. She was just making excuses for her bad habits. Sudden change was no excuse for a trash personality. Some would even argue that it was ideal for positive character development.

Finally fishing out her keys, she plopped the broken remains of her sign next to the door offhandedly. They clunked against the wood of the porch loudly, as she kicked them more off to the side. Turning towards the door, she considered flipping the closed sign for several moments before deciding it was still far too early. Not to mention, she would be expecting someone. Twisting the key in the lock, she pushed open the door. She considered the darkness for a moment before continuing to shuffle inside.

“Breaking and entering is a crime, you know?” She mused, switching on the lights, “That’s not very heroic.”

The Hero appeared showed himself slowly, springing elegantly from the wall like some sort of phantom. Colorless strands of hair flickered to-and-fro on unseen currents. She considered his drifting hair. Had she closed the door? She thought she had. Shifting slightly from foot to foot uncomfortably, she threw a glance over her shoulder. To her relief, it was shut.  

“Pleasure to see you again, despicable scammer.” The Hero greeted with hardly concealed venom, “I don’t suppose you remember me?”

She ignored the Hero, moving around him towards her showroom. Normally, she would never treat a customer with such rudeness. Small businesses could be flipped belly-up overnight with a single discourteous remark. She’d seen it happen many times before; she’d comforted many a drunken shop owner after a single audacious comment had pulled them under. However, she was a Fortune Teller, not a therapist. She neither had the time nor qualifications to deal with this particular mess. She paused, hey hovering over the lock. She cast him a considering glance.

“Would you like tea?” She asked, “I’ve got peppermint, chai, and chamomile… raspberry too if I actually went on that shopping trip already.”

He glared at her. The painted polite smile on his face faltering.

She continued, “If you don’t like that, I’ve got coffee, milk, juice, and soda if I shopped...”

She gestured vaguely in the air as she trailed off. She was forgetting something. Did she forget to go to the store? It would be troublesome if she’d only imagined that grocery trip. She knew she would take one… just not if that was a memory from the future or from the past. Hmm. The Hero slammed his fist into the wall, breaking through the wallpaper and her thoughts.

“I didn’t come here to be hospitable!” He snapped, “I came here to ask if you appreciated my gift!”

She watched as the Hero shook drywall and dust from his fist. Her eyes widened as the realization hit her.

“Oh. That was it. Don’t punch my walls.” She sighed, “What are you, five? Why are you still hitting things like some kind of toddler?”

Kneeling down, she tsked as she examined the hole.

“Ugh… The painting I cover that with is going to be hideous!” She groaned, glowering at him, “You’re definitely not getting any drinks after that… Maybe chamomile, but definitely nothing caffeinated!”

Grabbing the crook of his elbow, she pulled the Hero into one of the small side rooms she’d turned into a kitchen. It was small and definitely more mildewy than what was probably legal, but it was the only spot in the shop where the road couldn’t be heard. She often lounged in there on slow days while drinking tea and reading questionable romance novels.

For now, she plopped the Hero into a chair and switched on the lights. Powering up the stove, she places the teapot on to boil and began rummaging through the cabinets for the tea she knew was lurking in one of them. By the time she had finished preparing two steaming mugs of chamomile, the Hero’s eye was twitching. Settling down at the table, she motioned for him to speak.

“Do you,” He grated out slowly through clenched teeth, “appreciate my gift?”

She took a long sip of the warm tea, sadistically enjoying his impatient, rageful twitching. After several moments she sighed contentedly.

“I’ve received worse.” She smiled.

The Hero stood quickly, his chair scraping loudly on the ground as it was suddenly pushed away from him.

“You understand now, right? How wrong you were! How stupid your fortune was! Don’t you understand!?” His chest heaved under the force of his words, “I am THE Hero! I will not have an ‘enjoyable and fun life’ I barely have a life! I don’t have time for ‘college’, I won’t have the fortune ‘finding someone to love’, and I sure as hell won’t ‘make peace with all my troubles’!”

He began to pace the room. Hands ran through his hair as he violently gesticulated. The Hero pointed towards her, rage dancing in his golden eyes.

“I gave you the power to see the future so you would understand how incorrect you were! You see my future now, don’t you! You see how I’m stuck being a Hero for everyone! I do get to have a future! My entire existence is for other people!” He shouted, slamming his hands so hard onto the table that it broke.

The mug crashed to flour, shattering into thousands of tiny pieces. The Hero stared in horror at the mess he had created, stuttering out half-muttered apologies as they both scrambled to pick up the pieces. They cleaned silently but efficiently, mopping up the tea and sweeping the shattered porcelain. Once everything was mostly put back together, she turned towards the Hero.

“I still believe the fortune I gave you was correct.” She stated frankly, “You will get into whatever college you desire, you are still way too sexy to not find someone to love, and you will most definitely make peace with all your troubles. You just forgot that it’s the present that makes the future, not the future that makes the present.”

She gently tapped his head with the broom handle.

She smiled, “Leave the future to the Fortune Teller.”