Playing Cards

Playing Cards 

My grandmother told me to never fall in love with the other side. I didn’t know what she meant by that at the time. She had spread her cards, her beloved cards, that supposedly tell the future, out in front of my face and told me to choose. 

I chose the ace of spades. She clucked her tongue in disapproval, her eyes filled with the fire of knowing without telling. “Dear Adina, never fall in love with the other side. It’ll only be trouble for you.” 

I used to think I didn’t believe her. I had been warned from day one to never marry a rabbit, a libra, or to ever bet on a seventeen or a thirty two. I watched every step with my grandmother’s caution. The cards predicted if I would ace my exams, not my own ability. The cards told me all I needed to know. I didn’t even give a thought toward actual, written in the stars, true love. 

“You know the boy across the street?” Grandmother had asked me one day while shuffling her deck of cards. Our little home, enough for both of us, creaked as she tapped her burdened foot against the deck. 

“Anders?” I said, my own foot tracing his name in the dirt that lies in between each wooden board. 

“He’s an Ox. And a Virgo. His lucky number is seven.” She winked. “Number of perfection, I always say.” 

I laughed. “It’s a match made in heaven. How did you figure this all out?” 

“Talked to his mother. She thinks of the future as I do. Always planning for it.” Grandmother tapped the side of her hooked nose with a knowing smile. She always did that when she had a good thought. “You should speak with him. Get to know your options.” 

I always take Grandmother’s advice. She proved to almost never be wrong. The afternoon after the next day of school, as I was walking home, I crossed the street to where Anders also walked. 

“Adina,” he said, his dark eyebrows raising at my wave. He stopped in place to wait for me to catch up. “Haven’t talked to you in a while.” 

“I missed our hopscotch games,” I said with a smile. “How have you been?” 

We agreed on almost everything. We hated art class, loved history, and needed help with math. We both love spaghetti. We both think hiking is enjoyable while skiing is hard. Snow is fun to play in, but we need to get out of it quickly before we get too cold. We like the heat. We’re early birds. Slow songs get us down but upbeat ones pump us up. We like running more than team sports. He waved goodbye to me as we parted and I joined Grandmother in the front of the house. 

“I see you took my advice.” She pulled her cards out of the pack.

“I always do.” I flung my backpack to the ground and sat next to her. “Do you want to know what I think?” She made a small grunt to signify a yes. “He’s too perfect,” I said with a chuckle. “It’s like looking in a mirror, Grandmother. We like all the same things.” 

“How is that a bad thing?” she asked me, finally stopping with the fidgeting of her hands and cards.

“It’s a little boring. If I wanted to talk about Greek warfare strategy, I’d talk to myself.” 

Grandma held out her cards without a word. Her eyes challenged me. I picked one. A three of hearts. “Be cautious,” she said. “Wanting too much gives you less than you had before.” 

The summer started without another mention of relationship advice from Grandmother. The sun seemed to draw our town outside. I saw new people pass by Grandmother’s house every day. In the evenings, I would sit in front of my window, watching every soul play. I saw a lot of people I think would be interesting to talk to. I saw Anders sometimes. He said hi to me at school. I consider myself lucky to have such a boy so close by. My window, however, became more than a looking glass. It was the middle of summer, on a late, hot evening, when my window transformed into a glimpse of new possibilities. 

It was a boy, a boy I had never seen before, who was hammering a sign into my lawn. Grandmother was at the store, which left me home alone. I watched him work. He was a shiny blond; the owner of the kind of hair the sun loved to reflect upon. After a few minutes of watching him struggle at hammering, I traveled outside. 

Standing at the edge of my porch, I called, “Who are you?” 

He looked up from his job, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Doesn’t really matter who I am. What I’m doing; now that is the question.” 

“What are you doing?” 

He laughed. “Don’t just do what I tell you to do. If you want something, do it.” He gave a side smile as he brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I’m Hayes. And I’m advertising for my dad’s business. Your house looks like it needs a new roof.” 

What kind of person puts a sign in your lawn to let you know that you need improvement? “We’ll think about it,” I answered. Every word I use is with caution, quiet and thought about. This boy doesn’t think. He just does. 

“Maybe I’ll see you again, yeah?” Hayes said. I nod as he starts to leave. I see him moving and I want to ask what his signs are. Would we be compatible? However, you don’t just ask people what their signs are. But the boy just put a sign in my yard. I think I have a right. 

“What’s your zodiac sign?” I called after him, standing on one leg. 

He turned. He smirked. I felt embarrassed until he answered. “I’m a libra.” I laugh at the notion. Complete enemies. He cocks his head at my laugh. “Why do you laugh?”

“We’re opposites,” I said.

“Oh really?” Hayes took a few strides forward until he was back on my lawn again. “Try me.” 

I could almost feel Anders’ gaze from his own window. I wondered what he was thinking. “Favorite food?” 

“Beef jerky all the way. What about you?” 

“Spaghetti. Favorite season?”

His season is winter. He loves playing in the snow until his toes are frozen and he can't feel them. He hates the heat because it makes him sweat like a pig. He likes writing poetry and doing experiments, but reading bores him. He loves the blues. He prefers to stay up late and sleep in. He loves group projects in school. After that answer, I asked him, “Why?” 

“Why?” 

“Why do you like group projects?” 

He shrugged. “I like sharing ideas. Working together.” With a chuckle, he continued, “People are interesting. I think you’re interesting.” 

“Me too.” We were so different. It didn’t have to do with hobbies. It was the way he maintained such confidence, or always knew the answer, or carved his own path. I wanted to show him the stars while he wanted to explore the day. All my life, different was wrong. Now it seems beautiful. 

“Finally, we can agree on something.” 

We both laugh. It felt like the harmony of a song, like I am the base of a mountain that will help him reach the top. I felt creative all the sudden, stringing words together in an exquisite way, a person that brings forth ideas into the world.

As he left I knew I had disobeyed my Grandmother's advice. I have fallen in love with the other side. 

 I told my grandmother this when she returns, my cheeks a flushed pink from his words and the hot sun. I knew I sounded crazy. Such a relationship could only lead to arguments and broken hearts. She looks at me with a dazed expression, as if I disappointed her in a great way. 

“He’s the other side, Adina. He’ll control you. He’ll question everything you do. There is no partnership in such a relationship.” 

“It’s not that serious, Grandmother,” I said. “I just met him.”

She sat down on her sunken couch. She picked up her cards, bent from use, and held them out for me. I chose one. Eight of Spades. Danger. Caution. I wanted to swipe the cards from her hand and dump them on the floor. 

It had been three years since I met Hayes. He used to smile at me in the halls and invite me over to explore the creek behind his house, or to help his little sister hold a tea party for her friends. The first few weeks of school, he left me notes in my desk. They were lines of poetry; beautiful words I treasured in my heart. They compared the soft grass and the powerful waves. They talked of the sunset and the sunrise, the hidden messages in flowers, and deep thoughts I think everyone has thought at least once. I used to write him back. I tried my own hand at poetry and drawing, a secret hobby I had never dabbled in until Hayes. He taught me how to draw trees and how to watercolor flowers. I felt beautiful while I made beautiful things. Maybe that’s why Hayes was so beautiful to me. 

Then, my dear neighbor, my childhood friend, my supposed match, Anders, asked me to be his girlfriend. I said yes. Grandmother watched me do it. I think she had a hand in it. I stopped writing Hayes notes back after that. His smile faltered when he saw me. The next few lines he wrote were sad. In blank ink, he colored my mind with vivid descriptions of taking hold of your own future. 

The poetry stopped coming. My desk became empty in the morning. He somehow disappeared from my sight. My own heart felt dark, like Hayes came and sang a ballad that seemed like it would never stop until it did. Anders did not fill the hole in my heart. I tried so hard those years, when my heart could not stop yearning for that blond boy, to welcome Anders and give him a place in my heart. 

Grandmother declared us perfect. She blessed the marriage that I eventually said yes to. She told me the house on the edge of town was the best home for us.

She consulted her cards every moment of the rest of her life. They stopped her from going to get her hacking cough fixed because the doctor apparently gave off a “bad omen”. I listened to her. I always took Grandmother’s advice. Perhaps she would catch a lethal disease in his office. I tried to make her a home remedy. The cards told her to watch out. She didn’t take my medicine. I listened to those cards. 

It was Grandmother's death that made me leave my house this morning. Anders had no idea what happened yet. She coughed up blood until she died. She tried to convince me that it was a good year for her, and she would not die. She was wrong. Her own advice was wrong. I watched her die. I watched her fumble through her cards, hands shaking, trying to find the next step.

The cards took too long. They let her die. I waited for her to revive and tell me what to do. Instead, I was lost. Lost without those cards. 

I traced my steps back to Hayes’ parent’s house. I hadn't seen him since graduation day of high school. I remembered the exact trail to his home. We used to meet there that hot summer and run around town. 

I asked those old parents what happened to their son. They didn’t question me why. Instead, they dropped their gaze. 

“He left to fight in the war,” they said. “Couldn’t wait to get out of this small town. Besides, there was nothing to keep him here.” I would have kept him here. I felt my heart crying, knowing that there was another future in place of this one. 

His mother continued, “He never came home to us.” 

I didn’t cry. I walked home. I found Grandmother's cards by her bedside table. My hands picked a card, the ten of spades, without my head realizing. It was an unfortunate card that meant imprisonment. It was the truest card I had ever picked. 

I picked up those stupid cards and threw them into the fire that Anders had set up in Grandmother’s fireplace that morning. Those useless pieces of cardboard burnt in front of Grandmother’s dead body. Their edges curled in on themselves. They were gone, nothing more than ashes, in less than a minute. No longer would they dictate my actions. My life was not a game, foretold by humans who could barely see five minutes ahead. 

Now, I have all the cards in my hand.