Ameera, Unveiled (32 page)
I turned around to stare out the window at the softly lit palms in the twilight. If we performed at the end of our Hedo stint, I hoped to abandon my fear by stepping on stage, just as Kelly faced hers jumping into the unknown off Rick’s Cliffs.
Later that night, while Kelly and I were sitting on the beach, I announced, “I’m gonna see the palm reader!” Kelly looked at me as though I’d bitten the head off a dove.
“I’m not comfortable with soothsayers,” Kelly admitted. “The Bible says not to listen to them. But that’s me.”
I knew the scriptural references. I’d been studying the Bible since I’d taught myself to read. During summer vacations at my grandmother’s house, we’d sit in the laundromat reading from a children’s collection of Bible stories book that was secured by a chain to prevent vandalism.
“I don’t think it’s quite the same thing,” I said. “But I wanna see what it’s about.”
“I’m checking it out too,” Polly said.
We headed across the pool deck to the body painter and palm reader area.
“I’ll get in line,” I said.
“Why does this interest you, Kat?” Polly asked.
“I’m fascinated at how cool our universe is,” I said. “We can find messages in the stars, read animal behaviors before storms, or find out how our bodies manifest memories of the paths we’ve walked. Planetary alignments affecting tides and weather . . .”
“So you’re curious if your hand has a story to tell?” Polly asked.
I looked at her, smiled, and replied sincerely, “I trust my body tells my tale.” We stood reverently as the palm reader took his time with his current patron. “Glad he doesn’t rush.”
“He’s done,” Polly whispered to me.
The palm reader invited me to sit on the empty chair. I smiled as I looked in his eyes. They were sincere. He seemed down to earth. He reached for my hand.
“Do you know much about palm reading?” he asked.
I shook my head. “But I’m fascinated by the law of attraction and magnetic fields. Your wife highly recommended you the other night.”
“Let me explain what my mother taught me,” he said, turning over my left hand. “I’m not gonna predict your future or confirm the love of your life. I’m just gonna read the map of your palm.”
I nodded and exhaled, relieved that a stock market crash didn’t loom there.
“Skeptics think palm reading is the result of a cold reading seeking your birthday and profiling a horoscope,” he continued. He turned over my left hand and looked deeply into my eyes. “Your left hand is your past—your path. Experiences with those who went before you and by which you were affected.”
He paused to let me absorb his words. He touched my right hand. “Your right hand is your present—what your past has pushed you toward and what you’re doing with it now. The lines change as you age; they’re dependent on future experiences and health issues. Are you ready?”
He looked like someone who could be Steve’s local business friend. His hair was salt-and-pepper and he wore a tropical button-down shirt. If I’d been at the grocery store picking produce beside him, I wouldn’t have pegged him for a palm reader.
I sensed Polly’s skepticism. If this guy was legitimate, she’d be my witness. We’d shared a lot of personal history during the past year and even more over these last few days as roommates.
He switched on his headlight and stared deeply into my left hand. He traced a line and stared at its ending. “This is the heart line. It shows your relationships and any experiences involving pain, hurt, or despair. You’ve got an adventurous attitude toward your relationships. Romance is important to you, but you don’t consider yourself a romantic. You’re a very thoughtful person.” He tilted my palm and cocked his head. “You’ve experienced a lot of emotional pain in your early years. It lessened in your . . . thirties.”
Polly shifted. She seemed impressed. I inhaled deeply and nodded approval.
“You love strongly and deeply,” he said, using a magnifying glass. “To you, actions speak louder than words. You expect a lot from your relationships. But you take what you need to give back seriously too. There’s a good balance between idealism and sexual energy.”
Polly raised her eyebrows. I ignored her as I continued to watch the palm reader.
He paused, studying lines through his magnifying glass for a couple of more minutes. “The islands along the stressful period show me your energy was weakened . . . pulled in opposite directions. But you renewed your strength of purpose as you resolved many, many conflicts.”
He looked up to assess my comfort zone. “Want me to stop?”
“No, it’s just blowing me away that a line on my hand can tell you all that,” I replied.
He moved his finger to the bottom of my palm and traced a curved line that ended at the arc of my thumb and pointer finger. “This is your life line. It’ll tell me your basic personality, health, or things you’ve navigated through,” he said, again staring at my hand through his magnifying glass. “You’re a people person. You’ve got a wide circle of friends and interests. There’re two trauma lines between your twenties and thirties.”
I looked at Polly and mouthed “Wow!” She looked suspicious.
“It looks like one was good and one was bad. I’m going to check something.” He looked at the side of my hand. “There’re two relationships, but one’s deeper than the other. Are you divorced?”
“Yes, in my thirties,” I said.
“This attachment line is deeper and outruns the first,” he continued. “You’re in a very positive relationship. According to the heart line, he’s able to satisfy a lot of your needs. See how it ends between your index and middle finger?” he asked.
I nodded. “We’re a very good partnership.”
“I don’t see any major health issues,” he said, studying another line. “You’re a very resilient person. This line’s the head line. It tells me the breadth of your intelligence and understanding.”
A period of silence ensued as he looked between the lines and examined my fingertips. “You’ve got a big imagination and get depressed if it’s suppressed. You trust your inner voice and hear it well. You’re often perceived as irrational when following your gut, and you surprise people when you get the desired results. You’re equipped to be excellent at public speaking or writing.”
“I’ve always wanted to write a book,” I said.
He turned my hand sideways and felt a corner of my hand. “You have strong intuitive skills, but you’ve got to be careful and use them with some reason,” he said, looking at me with a slight warning in his eyes. “Your ambition line indicates success at achieving goals. You’re often seen as outspoken and adventurous. You’re strongly independent. How am I doing?”
“My hand’s telling you all that?” I asked. “It’s dead-on so far.”
Polly nodded at me in agreement.
He smiled and went back to his task. “Here’s the fate line,” he said. “It tells me about your career, how you feel about it.” His eyes shifted to other areas of my palm before he read it. “Your fate line stops short at the heart line. You’ve been a responsible person for much of your life, but it looks like you’ve experienced a change in lifestyle. Have you won the lottery?” he asked, chuckling.
Polly and I laughed at his question.
“Not in the way you’re asking,” I said. “My husband’s blessed with good business and family investments. He’s a very good provider and asked me to retire after we finished building our home. He wants to travel while we’re young and healthy.”
“Let me check something,” he said, turning over my right palm. “Right is your dominant and present.” He studied several areas of the palm.
“You’re still responsible, but you’re using it in a more artistic and creative way,” he continued. “And you’re still very adventurous and independent.” He held my hand as if I were giving a stop signal. “Your thumb indicates you’re a balanced person. You’re full of life, with well-balanced views. You listen to reasonable appeal and respond sensibly. You’re not ruled by the head or heart, but know how to use both. You’re properly cautious, dignified, and reasonably generous.”
He tapped my hand gently and reassuringly. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” I said, wiping a tear away. “I’m just not used to hearing so many edifying comments about me. Anything else? I don’t want to keep someone else from having time with you.”
“If a palm reader rushes and doesn’t check other areas of your hand to complement or confirm what it’s telling them, they’re doing what we call ‘a cold read,’” he explained. “Your body records your genetics and the impressions of life cycles on your hands. If I were to read you five years from now, these lines will have moved and shifted.”
That made sense to me, but I doubt my old church circle would be open to it.
“No worries. This is your time,” he said, addressing my concern as he moved farther away from my palms. He stared and shifted the position of my hand silently for a few minutes. “Your fingertips and thumb confirm you’re sensible and balanced in business, religion, love, homelife—anything you embrace. You’re calm, instill confidence, and have an even temper. You resist quibbling or asserting a domineering will. You don’t hide thoughts or actions. You’re frank and true to friends or values. People who cultivate a relationship with you prosper in your loyalty.”
Polly’s eyes remained glued on his face and every word. Her skeptic façade was crumbling.
His eyes darted as his fingers explored mounds around the perimeter of my palm. “You’re strong-willed but won’t run roughshod over anyone—even an enemy. See how even the length of your thumb phalanx is?” he asked, measuring the length of each with his thumb and pointer.
I nodded.
“Your mount of Jupiter’s more pronounced on your left palm, and the mount of Apollo’s more pronounced on your right palm,” he continued. “Responsibility, love of nature, and leadership have shifted to a more artistic and creative level. The basic threads of your nature are happy and resist evil. Your palms consistently show a calm, levelheaded brain that’s still warm and loving.” He patted my hands and put them in a prayer pose.
“Thank you,” I said, fighting back more tears. “I can’t tell you how healing this was. Too many demons have tried to diminish my confidence thanks to too many toxic relationships.”
“According to your palms, you’ve achieved many positive movements through some very adverse conditions,” he summarized. “You’re still soft and pliable, with a good balance of being open to change. But you do realize you’re not ruled by your palm? You drive your destiny and have to watch out for being taken advantage of.”
“Thank you,” I said, as he released my hands. “Really, I mean it. I’ve actually told some trespassers in my life that they took advantage of my kindness. This was very good for me.”
He looked at Polly. “Do you want yours read too?” He could see that her tough façade had softened.
“Her palms didn’t lie,” Polly said, as the palm reader shifted his light and magnifying glass in her direction. “Let’s do it.”
Almost immediately, as he turned over Polly’s left hand, he remarked, “Your Mount of Mars negative is very developed. You’re a principled person and work well under pressure.”
Polly laughed and looked at me for agreement.
He took his time and mapped her palms as he had mine. I sat and listened, amazed. I continued to revisit the afterglow feeling of my own reading, as if someone had given me a report card that confirmed the hard knocks and choices I’d made. Each was etched as a trophy on my palms. Perhaps the insights there confirmed that I had the tools to face my dance demon. I vowed to find a resolution to the Hedo show.
There had to be a show.
“Morning, ladies,” I said, jingling in my coin scarf as I moved toward a mountain of belly dance props on the disco bleachers. “I’ve got paper towels today.” I’d scrounged them from the front desk the previous evening.
“Good idea,” Polly said. “There’s a nice, sticky puddle right in front of the stage. Give me a few and I’ll mop it up before the stragglers arrive.”
“I wanted to tell you how much fun I had at Rick’s Cliffs,” I said to Sybil, as I tore off several squares.
“It was a lot of fun, but I was tired,” she said. “I’m ready to snorkel and celebrate Jennifer’s birthday! Happy birthday, Jennifer!” she shouted across the room.
We echoed the sentiments behind her.
“Aw, thanks, ladies,” Jennifer said. “And Lara arrives this afternoon.”
“We’ve got a full day!” Sybil waved at a couple staring down into the disco from the bridge. “As soon as Melody and Denise get here, let’s knock practice out. I’m already hot.”
I wandered over to Jennifer and sat on the edge of the dance-pole stage. “How was your date?” I asked.
Jennifer closed her eyes, smiled, and sighed. “He’s so attentive and romantic. I’ve felt more sexy and feminine in the past two days than I did in five years of marriage. He leaves this afternoon for the airport but wants to stay in touch.”
Denise and Melody rounded the corner singing “Happy Birthday.” We all joined in. At the end, zaghareets filled the room.
Sybil clapped her hands. “Let’s start, ladies. It’s hot and we meet to snorkel at ten thirty.”
“I’m going to the mangroves to bird watch if anyone’s interested,” Ruth said.
“Kat, did you talk to the palm reader?” Kelly asked.
“Polly and I both did,” I said. “He’s really nice. I admit it was amazing to watch him put lines and hand characteristics together. He hit dead-on with us.”
“What’s your favorite thing he told you?” Kelly asked, stretching her legs as we waited.
“That my fate line told him I’d left a life of heavy responsibility. He asked if I’d won the lottery.” She chuckled. I changed subjects. “You snorkeling?”
“Yes—and the gift shop had Listerine!” she said. I shook my head at her germ phobia.
“Ready, ladies?” Ruth called from the other room. We scrambled to our places to start practicing. As we moved about, the bridge audience watched us in shifts. Between numbers, paper towels kept sweat from our brows. It felt hotter than Tuesday’s session.
“Come on, hookers,” Kelly yelled across the disco. I walked my gypsy self over and assumed a sassy pose, looking over my shoulder at the audience outside the bay window. The sea breeze created the illusion that the banana trees were cheering and clapping with large leaf arms.
