No Regrets For Me

The silence in the house was only broken by the frenzied and anguished sighs. Lauren was feeling defeated as she sat at her computer, wiping her tired eyes from staring at the screen too long. She took her $5 readers off and set them by the keyboard. I’m not sure why I started this, she thought. She thinks back, now I remember; it was that palm reader.

Fifteen years ago, Lauren was sitting in a pub waiting for a friend when a woman came and began reading palms. She was obviously doing it to pay for her drinks, for this reason Lauren did not look her way, she did not want the woman to think she was interested in her parlor tricks.

“Hi Lauren, sorry I’m late,” Marcy, her friend and co-worker had finally arrived.

“I started without you,” Lauren gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I’m just giving you a heads up, there’s a woman reading palms, I think she’s just trying to earn money for drinks,” she smiles and waves for the server to come to their table.

“Cool, I love that stuff, where is she?” Marcy looks around.

“Well she doesn’t look like a gypsy, in fact she looks like a middle aged woman, like someone’s mom,” Lauren looks around the room, “There she is, “ she lifts her eyebrows and slightly jerks her head in the palm reader’s direction. “I didn’t know you were into this stuff?”

“You know I go to see an astrologer every week,” Marcy reminds her friend.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I blocked that out of my memory,” she laughs as she starts to feel the effects of the Margarita.

Marcy doesn’t laugh, instead she looks over and spots a woman in long pink shorts, sandals and a white summer blouse staring into a woman’s palm. The woman turns to notice Lauren and Marcy and slowly makes her way to their table.

“Are you interested in having your palm read?” she asks both the ladies.

Lauren quickly shakes her head while Marcy sets her right palm out on the table. Lauren lets out a sigh and stares at her watch, “do we have time for this?” she says trying to give her an easy out.

“Yes, I have time,” Marcy looks at the woman.

“My name is Serilda,” she smiles knowingly at Marcy.

“What an unusual name, does it have a meaning?” Marcy asks.

“It means, female warrior. It’s from the Teutonic language.”

“What do you charge for a palm reading?” Lauren asks in hopes that the price will dissuade her friend from continuing.

“Whatever you think is fair and if you’re not happy with the reading, there will be no charge.”

“Oh, I think I’ll be happy,” Marcy still has her hand out and appears to be eager for her palm to be read.

“How long have you been reading palms?” Lauren asks, still feeling as if this is a charade.

“I learned the art of reading palms from my grandmother when I was a very young girl. It’s not really what I enjoy, reading tarot cards, that’s my true calling,” she answers methodically as if she’s asked this question many times a day.

Lauren thinks, it’s all too perfect, of course her grandmother who was probably a gypsy in some old European country taught her to read palms in front of a fire surrounded by wagons. Lauren gives up trying to shoo the palm reader away. She turns to watch the news on the screen over the bar area, this way she can have something to do until their business is over.

Serilda studies Marcy’s palm, she lets out a small gasp. “it looks like you almost died, more than once, maybe three times?” she asks.

Now the palm reader has Lauren’s attention and she says, “you were in that car accident a few years ago, but that’s it, right?” she shakes her head and thinks, we’ve all almost died at least once in our lives.

“I had a rare disease when I was born, my mother said I shouldn’t have lived, and when I was 15 I was surfing with my boyfriend, a wave took me, I almost drowned,” she shakes from thinking about her near misses.

“I didn’t know that,” Lauren stares at Marcy and wonders, what else don’t I know. She begins to show interest in their session.

“I see that you have a hobby, something creative.”

“I like to make cards in my spare time, you know birthday cards and stuff,” Marcy adds.

“Does it show if she has any children?” Lauren tests Serilda.

“That’s more of a parlor trick, we can’t always tell how many children a person has.”

“I thought you read the side of the palm when a person makes a fist?” am I really telling a palm reader how to do her job, Lauren thinks.

“No, that’s in the movies,” Serilda states, “let me see if I can tell you.” She studies her palm and touches the lines, “this is strange, it looks like you have three children and only one is yours,” she looks puzzled.

“Oh my goodness! I do have a daughter and my husband has two children from his previous marriage who live with us! That’s amazing that you could see that,” Marcy becomes excited and stretches her palms in front of Serilda, “what else do you see?”

“They wouldn’t be on your palm if you didn’t love them,” Serilda tells both the ladies. “I do see that there’s someone who you’re worried about, someone close. Remember to take care of yourself otherwise you will not be able to care for anyone else,” she closes Marcy’s palm. “That’s all I can really see,” she smiles at Marcy.

Lauren looks at Marcy and the two women know exactly who the person is that Marcy worries about, it’s her mother. She’s been sick for almost a year and Lauren has told Marcy repeatedly, “get some help, you can’t take care of your mother all by yourself, it’s wearing you down”.

Lauren does something that goes beyond anything she’s ever believed, but she’s always felt that her instincts were keen. This woman may just have a gift she thinks, “will you read my palm?” she dares herself to blurt out the words. She then lies her palm on the table and looks at Serilda, it’s the same feeling she has when she’s waiting for a doctor to give her an injection. “Is this the right hand?” she asks.

“We’ll start with the hand you use most,” Serilda answers.

She gently takes Lauren’s palm, Serilda seems to be showing more care than she did with Marcy, as if she’s afraid she might scare her.

“See this line,” she points to a line in the middle of her palm, it tells me that you see things clearly, you’re not a dreamer,” she continues examining the lines, “this line is curvy and indicates that you express how you feel,” she turns over Lauren’s other palm, “You will have a long and healthy life,” she points to a line that makes its way clearly down to her wrist. She looks at both palms, as if she’s comparing them, “I can’t tell you exactly what it is, but you have a regret and it was on your mind when you were younger, it will return,” she tells Lauren. “If I had any advice for you, it would be to face this regret and either satisfy it or accept it as a loss before you become an old woman.”

Serilda releases Lauren’s palms and smiles at the two friends, “my readings are complete, I wish you both a peaceful evening,” she turns to leave when Marcy calls her, “Serilda, please take this, “ she hands her $10, “thank you,” Marcy says to her and then looks over at Lauren who is taking apart her white leather purse with too many compartments. “Sorry, I don’t usually carry cash, I think I have something…” she begins to feel embarrassed. 

“That’s fine, you don’t owe me anything, I knew you were skeptical,” she turns to look for more believers.

“Please wait,” she opens her wallet to find a 50-cent piece and hands it to Serilda, “it’s not much, but I once considered it my lucky piece, I want you to have it.”

“So, you do believe,” she gives her a personal smile, as if they were the only ones in the room, and then slips away as softly as she arrived.

Marcy looks at Lauren, “Well? Tell me, what is your big regret?”

“I think it’s that I never finished getting my degree.”

Lauren has grown in many ways since that day in the pub when a palm reader made her think about her life choices and what she had to do. For a few years she continued to put the idea of going back to school in the furthest parts of her brain, but now there was no escaping it, going back to school was something she had to complete. She knew that if she didn’t continue her education, she would regret it even more, since she was warned of her regret.

She turned on the computer after a 15-minute break, her eyes were rested and her mind felt clearer. Eight more classes, I can do this, just one more year and I’ll have earned my Bachelor’s degree and the regret will be satisfied. I’ll have to call Marcy, she has been my biggest supporter and she said she’d be in the first row, hooting and howling when my name is called at graduation. She continues reading her assigned chapter when the name "Serilda" pops into her head, Thank you too.