Twin Blame (Part Two)

An excerpt from my memoir, a work-in-progress.

Hello dear readers, and thank you for being here. The following excerpt is the second part of a chapter entitled “Twin Blame”. For this piece, I focused on creating a brooding mood and realistic dialogue between the characters. I would love your constructive feedback in the comments or sent privately to me (if you see something I could improve).

Thank you,

Sabrina XO

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Her brows knit together, then relax into a smoother shape. She smiles broadly, her front tooth chipped and coffee stained.

“I’m the clairvoyant. Are you… coming in?”

“Oh yes, thank you. Sorry, something was caught in my throat.”

I step into the hallway, a cramped space with small wrinkled carpets and dozens of worn shoes, all different sizes, strewn all over the floor. Sunlight pierces through the slats in the window, revealing heaps of plastic toys. Piled up legos, red fire trucks, Barbie dolls with hair chopped off and arms akimbo. The volume on the television is turned off, a blue cartoon dog is flitting on the screen.

Clutter makes my blood pressure go up, but I feel my shoulders drop, softer breathing return. This woman is just a tired, overworked mom.

“Sorry for this mess, I just managed to put my daughter down for a nap. Her colic has improved, thank god.”

“Do you have….more children?”

“You can tell, right?” she laughs, a deep rustiness. “I have 5 children. My eldest is turning 16 next week. Come, I’ll take you to my studio.”

We walk through a narrow corridor, and pass individually framed pictures of smiling children on the walls and tables. They are all wearing neatly pressed shirts and sweaters, their official school photographs. I catch a glimpse of one child, the same almond shaped eyes as his mother, serious and shadowy.

The studio is small, a simple oak table with two matching chairs. An image of a young woman, sits on a mantlepiece, ornately framed. Creamy walnut skin, terrifying eyes, hands neatly folded in her lap, unsmiling in her black veil. 

“That’s my mom, she was a third generation medium and matchmaker in Romania. And that would make me fourth generation, since she passed her gift to me. My name is Sara.”

She lights some candles on the mantelpiece, and motions for me to take a seat. 

“You’ve never been to a psychic before?”

“No. My parents saw one when I was very young. So I was curious.”

“Your parents were at a crossroads in their early marriage. They aren’t from here. Are you Spanish?”

“Italian. My family is from the South.”

“Ah. My favourite food. Good cheese and bread. So. You are here because you want to know what the future has in store for your relationship.”

Suddenly I want to tell this woman everything, to spill the contents of my heart, unleash this burden. My whole body feels laden with hot anger and deep disappointment. I could make this visit into a therapy session and just forgo divination. I can already tell my own future…isn’t it just more of the same? I am debating whether she has played detective, looked me up on Facebook, managed to crack my email passwords to find out about my past. 

I’m determined to reveal nothing.

“Yes, I’m curious to hear your thoughts.” I fold my hands on the table, trying not to look straight at her.

She quietly takes my left hand, her fingertips lightly touch and trace my palm. 

“The relationship recently ended. You two are living apart. He left you?”

“No. I left him.”

“Ah. Did you meet someone else? Lots of fighting over money?”

“There was no infidelity, but yes.  Lots of fighting over money. It was a very unhappy marriage. I just want to know that I’ll be…okay. That I’ll find myself again.”

I suddenly feel very vulnerable, like I had taken a layer of clothing off.

She gets up and gets a small box from the mantle piece, removes a pile of cards. They have an odd musty smell, like the old-fashioned dewey-system index cards at the library. She carefully fans black-coloured cards out on the table, small golden designs etched on top.

“Choose three cards, please.”

I wiggle the cards away from their companions, slide them over to her. 

She slowly turns all three over, scans the images quickly. I hear the faint sounds of a baby cooing.

“My daughter has just woken up, so I may need to give her a bottle in a few minutes. Here’s what the cards are saying: You’ve pulled the Sun, The Sage and The Lovers. Very auspicious, lots of good energy.  A happy future is a strong possibility for you.”

“But…what do they mean?”

“The Sun is a powerful image, it means you have overcome difficulties. The 

Sage is an unexpected one…it usually means you are going through some changes…you see the picture of the cloaked man holding the lamp here? It is a symbol of inner wisdom and strength, like you are following a guiding light.”

“And The Lovers?”

She smiles, cold and serious. 

“Your husband…the one you left? He is your Twin Flame. Your true love. Your soulmate. He is the one you should be with. The cards are telling me he is a good man, and if you work things out with him, you can have a beautiful life together. You should go back to him and stop this separation immediately.”

“I…see.”

The baby has started to cry, Sara gets up. “I’ll be right back, and I’ll give you some further instructions. You should reach out to him within 24 hours for this to really work.” She smiles, and blows the candles out as she leaves the room.

I put my jacket on, and glance back down at the cards. My shoulders drop, relief envelops me. Curiosity in divination leaves me. Well, this kind of divination, anyway.

Going back to my husband was about as likely as me becoming a fourth generation medium and matchmaker from Romania. It’s never going to happen. 

And my future? It’s in my hands.

I hold my head up like a beaming lighthouse, and walk out the door.

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