Laughing Down the Moon (23 page)

“No, I don’t suppose it does.”

“Well, my dear, the energy and consciousness that you have underneath all else is a positive force for yourself as well as for those around you. This card,” she said as she picked up the Death card, “shows that you have recently let go of something. You have been given a chance to break out of a rut, a negative pattern, or maybe that unhealthy relationship. It is behind you now, so let us see if there will be a rebirth of sorts.” She set the Death card back in its place and patted it as if it were a child that needed soothing.

I nodded.

“In your conscious mind we have The Ace of Wands! This means you recognize you are like a tiny new baby bird that has just burst from her egg. You know this is a time of rebirth, or new beginnings. Look at all the new beginning cards! So, Allura, once you let go of that old doubt and judgment—” she tapped the Judgment card and then the Emperor card, “—you will be a new woman.”

Goddess willing.

“Here you have The Lovers sitting in the position that tells us that this is what you most desire and, at the same time, what you most fear. That makes sense, does it not?” She didn’t wait for me to respond, but continued, “You know, someone recently tried to give you her song and you panicked, you ran away.”

My mouth dropped open. Shiloh’s soundtrack with “Home” pumped itself through my memory. I didn’t have to answer Madame DuVaulle.

She said, “You just get over that fear now, because look at all these birth cards—they say it is not too late. And look at this.” She picked up The Son of Cups and waved it in front of me. “You are going to fall in love, so you can stop fighting it now. There is nothing you can do about this.”

She set the Son of Cups back on the table. “You know,” she said looking hard at me, “falling in love can refer to people. It can also refer to what you do to earn a living. The universe does not see a difference or a boundary between the career Allura and the love Allura, so it would appear that you are going to have to go into that unknown you asked about in both your love life and your career life.”

“Nothing I can do to decide differently?” I asked.

“No, because you have already made the decision. Now you just have to trust in it,” Madame DuVaulle said.

“So can you tell what kind of career I should be looking for?” I asked.

“You do not know what you want to do?” Madame DuVaulle sounded surprised.

“Well, short of stand-up comedy, no,” I said.

“That is the magician speaking there, stand-up comedy, hahaha,” Madame DuVaulle chuckled. Veronica snorted softly next to me. I had almost forgotten she was there.

“She’s not kidding about the stand-up comedy,” Veronica said to Madame DuVaulle.

“Hmm, well, we all have to do what we think is best for ourselves, but did you not just have an experience with education that was similar to stand-up comedy? I see you doing well in a teaching role,” Madame DuVaulle said.

How did she know this stuff? She was incredible.

“My thinking is that you will be teaching writing by this time next year, only your students will have exceptional needs,” she predicted.

“Wow. Okay,” I said. I didn’t know what to think about that.

“So let us look at the energies that surround you,” Madame DuVaulle went on, picking up the Strength card. “It would seem that you are surrounded by magical helpers,” she said. “Do you feel that you are in contact with the natural world in some magical way, maybe with a pet or some earthy person? Or maybe with the earth itself?”

“I have a new bird named Dwight—well, he’s not new, but he’s new to me. He’s been a helper of sorts,” I offered.

“And you had news of his arrival before you met him, did you not?” Madame DuVaulle asked.

Did I? Dr. Browning had advised me to get a pet, a needy, homely pet, but I didn’t think that was what she was…oh! The crow’s feather! I hadn’t thought about that since the day it fell at my feet on the sidewalk, and I put it in my woven shoulder bag as I walked home from Dr. Browning’s.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” I said. This woman was really incredible. How did she know about the feather? And what other things did she know? “Can you see the future or only the past?” I asked Madame DuVaulle.

“Well, I can see things that you have in your head but are not thinking of, but I cannot see the future,” she explained.

“I was wondering the same thing,” Veronica said. “You knew things I had kind of forgotten about.”

“That is what I have been told by many people who have come to see me,” Madame DuVaulle said as if it was no big deal, but I was blown away.

“We had better look at your outcome card, Allura,” Madame DuVaulle said, bringing our attention back to the reading. “You should buckle up, my dear, because you are in for a big, big ride.”

It was funny to hear her use this phrase, but it made me uneasy. “Oh-oh, what kind of ride?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what she had to say.

“According to the majority of your other cards the outcome will be better than you expect, but this Tower card predicts a major structural change in your life. But we saw that coming in all your birth cards, did we not?” Madame DuVaulle asked.

“I don’t think I’m ready for a major structural change though,” I said.

“The change is already underway. You are more than half- way through, I would say,” she said.

“Really?” I asked, without having to ask because in that second I knew that she was right and that I’d be okay. I’d start running blindly through the snow and let the universe catch me if I did happen to fall. I felt good about this reading. I equated the feeling with roughly six therapy sessions with Dr. Browning.

One the ride back home, I asked Veronica what she thought about her reading.

“I wanted her to read a card to me that said, ‘Go for the Garden Shop,’ just like that, you know? But she knew things, Allura, didn’t she?” Veronica asked me with awe in her voice. “She is the real deal. She knew things that had happened to me that I hadn’t thought were important at the time.”

I had been so nervous trying to think of my question, not wanting the answer, but wanting the answer all at the same time that I hadn’t listened as well as I would have liked to Veronica’s reading. Some of the parts I did listen to had been a secret language spoken only by the psychic and Veronica. I assumed that parts of my reading were the same for Veronica—especially the parts where Madame DuVaulle had made reference to specific things like Shiloh offering me her song and the educational comedy bit.

I asked Veronica what things Madame DuVaulle had known about her, and she told me a few of them. I decided to wait to give Veronica grief about having a secret crush until later. I wanted to mull over what Madame DuVaulle had told me. I also felt it would be in bad form to sit through each other’s readings, which kind of cut close to the bone for both of us, and then to tease Veronica about it. So we sat silent the rest of the way to our stop.

Chapter Thirty

Lilfella

The black cat sat smack-dab in the middle of my front step. When he saw Veronica and me approaching, he stood up and began pacing back and forth in front of my door.

“Ooooh, pretty cat,” Veronica murmured.

“Ughhhh,” I groaned. “That thing has been following me.”

“Really?” Veronica looked at me, surprised.

“Yes, look at his back toes, he’s giving me the finger.” I had stopped on the sidewalk in front of my house. I considered going around to the alley so I could enter through the back door. Veronica, however, walked right up to the cat and tousled him behind the ears, making the tufts of hair stick out even more wildly. The cat purred so loudly I could hear him where I stood, but despite the purr, I had the feeling the cat was rather panicked. He paced back and forth between Veronica’s Victorian ankle boots. He seemed to like the petting, but kept glancing at the door. He didn’t rub his head into Veronica’s hand the way most cats would, trying to convince the petter that they are loving the attention when really they are just plotting the opening of the vein that has now come within reach.

“I think he wants in,” Veronica said, looking at me from her bent over position.

“Uh-uh, not gonna happen,” I said, trying to control my revulsion.

“He seems upset,” she responded.

“Yeah, I see that, but he can’t come in the house. Plus, Dwight would eat him…or he would eat Dwight. It just wouldn’t be good.”

“I don’t know,” Veronica mused, looking back at the cat.

“I do know. I know he’s not coming in.”

“He’s here for a reason, though,” she said. She stopped petting him and straightened up.

“Can you contain him long enough for me to get in the house?” I felt like a wimp asking that, but I visualized myself walking into the house and the cat snaking in behind me.

“Yeah, I’ll hold him,” she said.

“Thanks.” I waited for her to scoop him up. He hung his head over her shoulder and stared at the front door. I rushed past her, unlocked the door and scooted in.

“Now you, without the cat,” I said through the barely opened door.

“Thanks for stopping by, kitty.” Veronica gently placed the cat on the porch floor and followed me in. The cat stared in after us, but he didn’t try to follow.

“Allura, he might be homeless,” she said after we were safely inside with the door closed. “He might be cold.”

“Someone will take him in,” I assured her. “Plus, I saw him on his own porch the other day.” Without warning, I felt my already tense stomach tighten further as I remembered Elizabeth’s threatening phone call. Madame DuVaulle had said nothing of that, I realized. I hadn’t told Veronica about it because it seemed silly to be upset about it, but maybe talking about it would make me feel better. I’d put some tea on and ask Veronica what she thought. I got the kettle ready as Veronica made herself comfy in the living room.

Dwight hadn’t said hello to me, and that was unusual. I ran cold water into the kettle. With the stalker cat on the porch, we didn’t make the usual amount of noise as we came in, so that was likely why Dwight had remained silent. I set the kettle on the flame and headed out into the living room. Veronica was in the corner of the fainting couch and had her feet tucked up under her. She was leafing through a writer’s magazine.

“I’m going to go say hi to Dwight,” I told her as I took the stairs two at a time.

“Hi Dwight!” I hollered before I was even in the room.

I skidded
Risky Business
style across the open doorway to amuse him, and a cry caught in my throat at what I saw. Dwight was lying, beak down, on the floor of his cage.

“Dwight!” I cried. “Dwight!” He didn’t get up. From downstairs I could hear Veronica’s steps quickly crossing the floor and then coming up the stairs. I opened Dwight’s cage, tears blurring my vision.

“What’s happened?” Veronica’s voice shook.

“I don’t know.” I touched Dwight’s back, near his neck. He trembled. I jerked my hand back and then gently scooped him up with both hands. He was limp, but he wasn’t dead, which was what I had feared.

“Dwight, lilfella, come on, wake up, buddy,” I crooned with my face almost touching his feathers. I kissed the top of his head. “Come on, Dwight, wake up, you’re okay, buddy.”

“Allura, let’s get him to the vet.”

Veronica sped, driving my car to the vet clinic on Cedar Avenue while I cradled Dwight’s body in my arms. We had wrapped him in a fleecy throw before leaving the house. For anyone who didn’t know there was a bird in the blanket, it probably appeared we were rushing a human infant into the vet clinic. The veterinarians said they weren’t experts on birds, but they took Dwight in the back room to see what they could do. The clinic that specialized in birds was all the way across the city. A few unbearably long minutes later, Dr. Dora came out to ask me questions. I realized through the haze of my panic that she looked like my father or how my father would look if he’d been born female. She had kind, crescent moon eyes and a wide, upturned nose like my dad. She was probably Japanese and probably in her sixties. Her trendy haircut, razor edged and streaked with auburn, made her look like an elf. I answered her questions through my tears and handfuls of tissue, no this had never happened before, no he didn’t go through a trauma, no he hadn’t sustained a blow, no he…yes, he
had
tried a new food, avocado.

“When did he eat the avocado?” Dr. Dora asked. She made a note on her clipboard.

“This morning, around eight or nine. Is it bad?”

“Well, avocado can be very toxic to some birds. We can treat Dwight symptomatically with supportive therapy, but there’s no specific treatment,” the vet said. She placed her hand on my forearm and said, “We’ll do the best we can. I’ll send a technician out to speak with you in a moment, and I’ll go now to look after Dwight.”

Veronica sat beside me with her arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders as we waited for the technician. We didn’t speak.

I had poisoned Dwight, my lilfella.

I held Dwight’s empty blanket to my abdomen. I felt like I was going to throw up. No wonder he hadn’t just gobbled up the avocado when I offered it. He knew it wasn’t good for him, and he’d eaten it simply to make me happy. What a damned fool I was! Poor little trusting guy, and I poisoned him. Goddess let him be okay. When the technician came out, both Veronica and I stood up.

“Are you here with Dwight?” she asked.

“Yes,” Veronica answered. We were the only people in the waiting room.

“I’m Laura, the technician,” she said. She appeared to be all of sixteen years old but with an edgy thin smile and sharp black eyebrows in her pale full moon face. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight, short ponytail.

“How is he?” I had no time for polite introductions.

“He has edema in his throat and fluid in his lungs and abdomen, but his heart seems to be fine, which is good news,” she said. “We’ve already induced vomiting and cathartics to clear the avocado from his system. We might have to use oral-activated charcoal to absorb any remaining toxins.” She looked at me to see if I understood her.