Tarot Fairy Godmother

Blown by the warm summer wind, a small, wrinkled card tumbled onto their blanket. The card had a white horse and skeleton, and the word DEATH was printed across the bottom.

“Well, that’s ominous,” Helen Knox said as she picked up the tarot card. “Does this mean someone’s going to die?” A cloud passed, casting a shadow over their picnic. The wind blew through the busy park, ruffling the napkins tucked under the corner of the picnic basket and nearly overturning their plastic wine glasses.

“It doesn’t always mean death,” Erica, Helen’s girlfriend, replied. She brushed an ant away from a plate of cheese and crackers.

“It says death right there,” Helen pointed at the card.

“It could mean the loss of a job or a relationship,” Erica said. “Besides, you found it on the ground. It’s someone’s trash.”

“So, I’m getting fired now?” Helen protested. “It’s not like we’re breaking up.” Erica said nothing for a long minute, the silence becoming more awkward as it grew. Helen clutched the death card. Finally, Erica spoke.

“Helen, we should talk,” Erica tucked her hair behind her ears. Helen listened as her girlfriend explained how they had grown apart. Helen wasn’t shocked, but she was annoyed. She had just dropped $70 on wine and cheese for their romantic picnic. Tears in her eyes, she packed up alone, carefully folding the blanket and tucking it under her arm. On the way back to her apartment, she stopped at an ice cream shop and ordered the largest sundae on the menu, adding extra candy.

“What are you up to today?” the cashier asked as Helen shoved her card in the slot.

“I’m going home to eat my emotional support ice cream,” Helen told her. The woman stared blankly. The tip screen popped up, and Helen chose $0. If the woman couldn’t bother to laugh at her dumb joke, Helen couldn’t be bothered to tip.

Balancing her basket and enormous ice cream, Helen unlocked the door to her building and went up the short flight of stairs to her apartment. Once inside, she dumped everything on the kitchen counter. The card fell to the floor, where it settled Death side up. Ignoring it, Helen took her ice cream to the balcony and plopped onto a patio chair. She watched couples holding hands on the sidewalk below and resisted the urge to flick gummy bears at them. Instead, she went inside and threw the tarot card in the trash.

The next few days, Helen worked from home, sitting on her balcony for fresh air. She forced herself to walk around the block twice daily, like a prisoner getting yard time. On the fourth day, Helen again dragged her laptop to the balcony. In the corner, wedged between two potted plants, was a small card. She snatched it up.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious!” Helen shouted, staring down at the Hermit card. She looked around. Her balcony was on the second floor of a five-story building, with a large space between it and the other balconies. No one could scale it without a ladder or web-slinging abilities.

Unnerved, Helen went inside and locked the balcony door behind her. She put the Hermit on her kitchen counter. It had a lonely old man in a cloak on the front and an elaborate sketch of a forest on the back. Helen shivered. The creepy tarot card was right. She needed to get out of the house. Helen texted her friends and made plans to meet. They were at their favorite bar within the hour, sitting at a small table in the corner.

“This just appeared on your balcony?” Helen’s friend Adam asked. He inspected the card with a disgusted look.

“Yep, and the Death card blew onto the blanket during our breakup picnic,” Helen said. “It can’t be a coincidence.”

“Those are very public places,” her friend Beth pointed out. “Anyone could have done it,”

“Or it was a ghost,” Adam grinned. “Or a demonic tarot possession. Helen’s balcony is too high to climb.”

“It’s not that high. They could have tossed it,” Beth shrugged. “Maybe you have a stalker.”

“That’s less likely than a ghost,” Helen said, sipping her wine. “I don’t talk to people. You have actually to interact with people to have a stalker.”

They traded theories and drank, but finding no consensus, Adam and Beth decided to come home with Helen.

“We have to protect you,” Adam told her, coming out of the liquor store with more wine. Beth snorted, and Helen grinned. Night had fallen, and they walked the few blocks home in the glow of the street lights.

“Hey, isn’t that your car?” Beth pointed at a black Jeep parked on the side of the street. “I think you got a ticket!”

“Damn! I forgot to move it again!” Helen cried. She ran over and snatched the paper from the windshield. She dropped it in horror.

“Is that another card?” Adam squeaked. “What the hell? This is so creepy!”

“Which one is it?” Beth bent over to pick it up. “It’s the Seven of Swords. What does that mean?”

“Who cares?” Helen cried. “Who’s doing this? Why are they doing this?” She glanced at the street’s dark corners and suspicious shadows.

“This website says that the Seven of Swords means theft!” Adam told them, looking up from his phone. “Maybe your car is going to get stolen!”

“It’s probably right,” Beth looked in the passenger window. “Helen, you can’t leave change in your cupholder, and your air pods are just lying on the seat.”

“That’s where they are!” Helen unlocked the car. They cleaned out the valuables and then locked it back up.

“You should leave the doors unlocked and the glove compartment open,” Beth said. “That way, they won’t break your windows.”

“So they can rifle through your car?” Adam asked. “That’s gross.”

“But they don’t break your windows, and you’ve taken anything valuable out of it,” Beth insisted.

“You’re going to end up with a homeless person in your car,” Adam told Helen.

“I think Beth and the card are right,” Helen said. She unlocked the car and opened the glove compartment. They walked back to Helen’s building. In the lobby, they stopped by the mailboxes.

“It’s probably someone from your building,” Beth said. “Do you talk to any of your neighbors?”

“Eww, why would she talk to her neighbors? She’s not a psychopath,” Adam sniffed. “But yeah, they’re the most likely suspects.”

“I know Mrs. Martin,” Helen said. “She lives across the hall. I help her with her groceries sometimes. She’s super old.”

Adam pulled out his phone and took pictures of the names. “We can look them up and see if there’s anything suspicious,” he said.

After two hours of online snooping, they conceded defeat. None of Helen’s neighbors had any red flags, and Adam had fallen asleep on the couch.

“I ordered you some security cameras. They’ll come tomorrow,” Beth said as she smoked on the balcony. Helen sat beside her, looking at the glowing windows across the street. It was a quiet street with pretty brick buildings, none over six stories high. Curtains blocked most windows, but some were open, showing small, cozy living rooms and tidy little bedrooms.

“It could be any of them,” Helen gestured at the windows.

“It could,” Beth agreed. “The cameras will show you if someone is watching you. Because someone is probably watching.”

After that, they closed the blinds and went to bed. Helen lay awake for hours, feeling unsafe for the first time in her little apartment.

Her friends left early the next day, advising Helen to lock her doors. She attempted to work but was so distracted that she didn’t do much. By 5 p.m., she felt restless enough to leave her apartment. Pepper spray in hand, she walked to her favorite sushi place. The owner smiled when she entered and waved her to an empty spot at the counter.

“You live around here, right?” he asked, handing her a menu. “Did you get your car broken into too?”

“I don’t know,” Helen said. “I haven’t checked it today.”

“You should check,” he said. “They smashed my window and took a bag of knives. They were hidden under the seat. They were expensive!”

“Can you wait a minute?” she asked.

“I’ll save your seat.”

Clutching her pepper spray, Helen ran down the sidewalk. Her SUV sat peacefully under the large tree where she had left it. Broken glass littered the sidewalk, and several cars had clear plastic taped over their windows. She inspected her vehicle and concluded that it was fine.

Back in the restaurant, she told the chef about her luck and explained Beth’s advice.

“I’ll have to try it,” he said. “But what is it coming to that we just let thieves go through our cars?”

Helen shrugged, picking up her napkin. A small card drifted out and onto the counter. It was the Six of Cups.

“Did you put this here?” she held up the card. “Did the server?”

“Is that a tarot card?” he peered over the counter. “No, I’ve never seen that. I don’t think my waiter did it either.”

“I’ve been finding them all over,” she said. “It’s bizarre.”

“Maybe someone lost a deck,” he shrugged. “I once found an acoustic guitar with a hammer smashed in it. It was just lying on the sidewalk. There are a lot of weird things in the city.”

“Actually, that makes sense,” Helen rolled her eyes. “But did someone else walk by while I was gone?” There were a dozen people in the restaurant. She recognized an older brunette woman by the window, and an old man in the corner looked familiar. Helen thought the couple beside her might live in her building, but she wasn’t sure.

“Maybe,” the chef shrugged. “It’s pretty busy.” He went back to work and quickly served Helen her rolls. While she ate, Helen took pictures of the other patrons. She also looked up the Six of Coins, which meant charity and giving. She finished her meal and left, looking around nervously as she returned to her building. In the corner of the lobby, she noticed a large box. A sign above the box said, Helping Hands Can Drive. Helen went upstairs and discovered a package on her doorstep. Carrying it inside, she snapped the deadbolt behind her.

Helen spent the evening putting the cameras on the balcony, in her windows, and in her apartment. She gave Beth access to the feeds and texted her friend the login instructions. Then she went through her cupboards, gathering cans of soup, tuna, and tomatoes. She lugged them to the lobby and unceremoniously dumped them in the donation box.

“Is this what you want?” she asked in the empty lobby. A man peeked around a corner, his eyes wide. He looked at her and then walked quickly out the front door. With her cheeks burning, Helen returned to her apartment and crawled into bed, resisting the urge to cry. Several hours later, she woke and checked her phone.

“Do you know this woman?” Beth had texted her a picture of a woman. Helen expanded it and looked closely.

“That woman was in the restaurant today!” she texted back.

“That woman just sits on her balcony and watches the street,” Beth texted back. “She doesn’t read or play with her phone. Sometimes, she plays with a deck of cards. I think it’s her. We can’t take it to the police, but it’s something.”

Helen peered through the blinds at the woman’s balcony across the street. It was empty, and the street was dark. Helen closed the blinds and crawled back into bed.

“Let’s look into it tomorrow,” she texted back.

The following day, Helen met Beth at their favorite bagel place. They sat at a table on the sidewalk with their food.

“At least now you know who to look out for,” Beth said, biting into her bagel. “For what it’s worth, she’s been helpful. She did save your car.”

“Yeah, but it’s still insane,” Helen said. What does she want?” They sat eating, and when they finished, Helen went inside to get more coffee.

“Are we waiting for her to walk by?” Beth asked on Helen’s return.

“This is the way to the park,” Helen admitted. “I’m sure I’ve seen her at the park.”

“You shouldn’t confront her. She may be unstable,” Beth said. “And if we’re wrong, we are the crazy ones.”

“I can’t live like this,” Helen snapped. “I will become unstable.”

They waited another hour, sipping coffee and playing on their phones. “Helen, look!” Beth whispered. The brunette woman walked briskly up the sidewalk toward them. Helen jumped up and stepped into the woman’s path.

“You!” Helen shouted. “Why are you stalking me?” The woman stopped, looking startled.

“I’m not stalking you!” she protested.

“Then what’s with the tarot cards?” Helen shouted.

“Oh, that,” the woman laughed. “I do that all over the neighborhood. I leave little predictions for my neighbors.”

“You’re psychic?” Beth asked.

“I read tarot cards. It’s my side hustle,” the woman admitted. “But I don’t need to be psychic. I saw her with her girlfriend at the park, and they didn’t look happy, so I dropped a card.”

“And my car?” Helen asked.

“Aren’t you on the neighborhood Facebook group? There’ve been a bunch of break-ins. I put cards on the cars with valuables showing. It’s called gorilla marketing.” The woman smiled.

“But your information isn’t on the cards,” Beth protested. “How are people supposed to contact you?”

“Yes, it is. See?” The woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a card. She flipped it over and handed it to them. “In between the trees.” A website was hidden in the sketch of a forest.

“That is terrible graphic design,” Helen handed it back to her.

“Sorry if I scared you,” the woman frowned, taking the card. “But it’s not a big deal.”

“You need to stop,” Helen said. “It’s insane.”

“Yeah, no worries,” the woman said. “You don’t need to be rude about it.”

Helen opened her mouth, but Beth wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her away. They were halfway down the block before Helen shook her friend off.

“No good will come from screaming at a woman on the street,” Beth told her.

“That woman is a menace,” Helen fumed. “I thought I was losing my mind.”

“Well, at least it wasn’t a ghost or a demonic tarot deck,” Beth shrugged. “Would you have preferred that?”

“Maybe,” Helen shook her head and snorted. Helen and Beth laughed out the tension, cackling in the middle of the sidewalk while people walked by. Finally, they stopped laughing, linked arms and walked down the street, the neighborhood bustling around them.