Cheers and Good Luck

Cheers and Good Luck

“Cheers and Good Luck,” Mindy said, gathering the cards into a pile as she finished her client's Tarot reading. 

Mindy was a very experienced and, many would say, accurate Tarot reader. She’d learned the skill as a teenager, from her Aunt, before Tarot had become more mainstream. Aunt Celine had passed away when Mindy was in high school, bequeathing her box of Tarot cards and esoteric artifacts to Mindy. 

When she had been studying Psychology at university Mindy would bring the cards to parties and read for her friends. People were always rapt. She would do a few short readings and then pack up the cards to enjoy the party. Inevitably, someone else at the party would ask her to read for them. When she politely declined they would often gently convince her with a twenty-dollar bill. She was a 'starving student.' Money was a good motivator.

It wasn’t long before she had been making more money on Saturday nights at sorority parties than she was slinging coffee three days a week at the diner. In second year, she had quit the diner, choosing to read cards by appointment on weekends. She had even set up a basic website and had business cards printed. Just before her final semester, she’d had clients booked four or five days a week, so she had decided to take one semester off to earn some quick money before graduating. She never did go back. She had found her calling. 

Now, ten years later, she thought it would be nice to finish her degree. Sure, she could keep reading Tarot cards but there was no pension and she was ready for a change. So, she had started saving for tuition. 

When she felt like a client might be receptive and was well-off enough that they could spare an extra hundred or so – as was today’s particular client with her Gucci bag and Christian Leboutin shoes – she would tempt them to extend their visit, for a fee.

“Our time is up,” she said. “However, at the end of the reading, a friendly spirit entity joined us to observe. Are you interested in conversing with them? They seem willing. They’re standing behind you, next to the window,” she said leaning towards the client while peering over her shoulder towards the window. There was no one standing next to the window.

“Is it my mother?” The woman turned her head, looking expectantly over her shoulder.

“It could be! My rate for psychic medium work is one fifty per session. I don't know if you have time to stay, but I have time if you do.” 

Although there was never a ‘spirit' in the room, Mindy was very good at helping people find closure by having a ‘conversation’ with a lost loved one. She had mixed feelings about it but didn’t really think she was hurting anyone. If anything it was cathartic for the client. She was doing them a favor and putting some of her psychology courses to good use.

“Should I pay you now?” the woman eagerly unzipped her purse and reached for her wallet. Mindy lit another candle.

It was dark when Mindy got back to her apartment. Today was Samhain, All Hallow’s Eve, Hallowe’en. She took a few minutes to collect some objects on her coffee table: dry leaves and straw, some snakeskin she had found on a hike – a collection of things beyond their fruitful season that had lived their lives and served their purpose.

Mindy didn't think of herself as a witch, but Aunt Celine had taught her to honor the turning of The Wheel of the Year. Samhain was a time to honor the arrival of the dark half of the year as well as a time to connect with ancestors.

“The veil is thin,” Aunt Celine would say when they had done their Samhain rituals. She would often speak of communicating with spirits around this time. Mindy could never decide if she believed her. With Aunt Celine, anything was possible.

She placed a small piece of dark chocolate on the table. This was to honor Aunt Celine. She then placed thirteen crow feathers around the chocolate. One o’clock, two o’clock – around she went placing them like the hours of a clock. One feather in honor of each year that had passed since Celine’s death. The thirteenth, and final, feather she placed on top of the first. During the year when she would find a crow feather on a hike or on a sidewalk, she would tuck it away in Aunt Celine's box. She had found this last one the other day, just in time.

"I miss you, Aunt Celine," she sighed. "I wish you were still here."

At the center, she put a tall metal goblet of steaming mulled cider which she would let cool and drink while eating the chocolate. If nothing else, the ritual was tasty!

Mindy awakened with a vivid dream. Aunt Celine was calling her from the kitchen, “I’m leaving now, but you had better get up! Your porridge is overdone. There’s no time to add raisins before you eat it!” It was one of those dreams that was so banal it could be real. Like a dream where you paid your credit card bill but, in reality, you hadn’t. And, when you awoke you weren't sure if you actually did or not.

She usually enjoyed her porridge with raisins and had learned that she liked it best if she added them to the porridge when it was almost done so they could simmer along with the oats for the last half hour. In this way, they would plump up but not disintegrate. 

She rolled onto her back and stretched, taking a deep breath. The smell of warm oats made her stomach growl. The sun had crept over the fence and a gentle beam shone through the window, kissing her nose. 

Her eyes flew open. She checked the time. Nine thirty! She had overslept! She bounded out of bed with only enough time to serve herself a bowl of overcooked, raisinless, very hot porridge and get dressed before dashing down the block to her office.

Her first client, Jessica, was five minutes late, fortunately. This gave Mindy time to set up the reading room, do a quick smudge, and light some candles. 

A chime rang, letting her know that someone had entered the waiting room. Opening the door, she saw that there were three women waiting. Jessica had brought two friends with her. This happened sometimes. If people were too nervous to come alone, they would bring someone along for moral support. Jessica was a first-time client, so it wasn’t surprising that she hadn’t come alone.

"Jessica?"

One of the women smiled weakly.

“I’m Mindy! Come in!”

Jessica and her friends all stood up. Usually, friends would wait in the waiting room, but sometimes they came in with the client. It wasn't Mindy's preference. But, it was important for the client to feel comfortable. So, she allowed it.

“This reading is just for Jessica. OK?” Mindy made eye contact, wanting to clarify that she didn’t do group readings.

“Um, yeah.” Jessica answered with a small shake of her head, wrinkling her brow as if Mindy had stated the obvious, duh. The others nodded.

“You can sit here,” Mindy led Jessica to a comfortable, upholstered armchair near her desk. The others stood behind her as she sat down. “And there’s a sofa.” she gestured to her friends.

“The chair is fine,” Jessica mumbled, eyes downcast. Her friends moved to the sofa to sit.

Mindy focused on Jessica, putting the friends out of her mind while she shuffled the cards. To do a good reading, she needed to be focused.

“OK, great.” Mindy didn’t actually feel like it was so great. Jessica’s energy was very low and she seemed closed off, verging on disinterested. 

Sometimes the cards were cranky when a client was blocked. Mindy hoped the reading would go well.

“Let’s get started. I’ll ask that you remain quiet while I read the cards. When I’m done you can ask any questions you like.” Jessica nodded.

Jessica listened attentively as Mindy went through the Opening of the Key followed by the Celtic Cross. Surprisingly, the cards were very clear. There was no energy block. There was a lot of heavy stuff in the readings. Heavy, heavy, stuff. 

Jessica and her friends nodded along as Mindy explained each of the cards in turn. There had been an accident. Jessica felt responsible. She wasn’t responsible. She would get the chance to move on with a new opportunity. But first, she had to get past her grief and guilt.

She hadn't yet finished the reading - the part that offered potential solutions - when Jessica began to cry quietly. One of her friends came to stand behind her.

“It was my fault,” Jessica said between choked sobs, “I was the one driving, it was dark and raining. It was hard to see. I didn't – ” tears drifted slowly down her cheeks as she trailed off.

“Oh,” Mindy handed her a tissue. “But, it was an accident. Accidents happen. You can’t blame your–” 

“It was my fault, not hers” the standing friend interrupted, “I was the one who insisted that we drive home after midnight. We should have waited until morning.”

Jessica blew her nose.

“Your name is?” Mindy hadn’t been introduced

“Monique –” “Jessica –” The two women answered at the same time. What kind of impression was she making on Jessica, that she thought she had forgotten her name already?

“I don’t think you’re to blame either, Monique.” Mindy collected herself with a forced smile. “Accidents are accidents.”

“What?!” Jessica shook her head, looking intently at Mindy.

“Well, don’t you agree that just because Monique wanted to leave after midnight doesn’t mean she’s responsible for the accident.”

“How do you know about Monique?” Jessica asked, perplexed.

“Um - she just - said -” Mindy stammered, and trailed off, pointing at Monique. This day had started off rocky and it wasn't getting better.

Jessica clutched her hands to her chest and stood up. Was she going to leave?

There were reasons Mindy preferred when clients came alone. This was one. Jessica looked back at Mindy like she didn't understand what she was saying. Was she ok? Was she having some kind of stroke or episode? Was English her second language?

“Bringing two friends along is a lot. Maybe you’d rather if Monique and – “ she looked to the seated friend and waited for the woman to say her name.

“Greta.”

“ – if Monique and Greta waited outside while we continue.”

The color drained from Jessica’s face and she sat back down. “Monique and Greta are my friends who died in the car accident.” 

The friends nodded.

There was a quick knock at the door and it creaked open.

“Need a little help in here?” Aunt Celine poked her head in, the sunbeam from the window filtering through her cheerful, translucent smile.

Oh boy, thought Mindy, did she ever.