His body shakes with laughter. I’m about to step away from his arms when I feel them tighten around me. “Just . . . let me hold you for a few minutes. I need to, um, calm down.”
I was so consumed by his mouth that I didn’t notice what was going on south.
A few minutes later, his fingers lace with mine. He kisses the back of my hand before leading us toward the restaurant.
“Wait!” I grab his bicep, stopping him. Then I point at the shop next to the restaurant with the words Aunty Rowena Palm Reading Services flashing in neon blue and green. “I’ve always been curious about this. I want to see what they’re all about.”
“Babe,” he drawls, and I melt. It’s the first time he’s called me that. It’s a simple word, but it just makes me feel special. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. Come on.” I pull his arm and he lets me.
Inside Aunty Rowena’s shop, we’re greeted by the scent of burning sage and a different smell I can’t put my finger on. Within seconds, a woman wearing a flowing gown and a headscarf seems to glide into the room. She’s wearing red lipstick, and her lashes seem too long to be normal. When she smiles, I feel warmth in my chest.
“Welcome to Aunty Rowena’s Parlor.” She waves her arms elegantly. “What can I do for you?” Her gaze is on me now.
“I was wondering . . . well, I’d like to know my future.” I cut my eyes to Sol. He rolls his eyes, his lips twitching. “Ignore him. He already has his future figured out,” I tell Aunty Rowena.
She smiles politely at him before turning to face me again. Nodding, she ushers us through a doorway that has green and orange sheer curtains for doors. After silently gesturing for us to take a seat at the reading table, she walks across the room and lights up what looks like a bunch of dried-up twigs. She walks around the room, waving them in the air.
When she’s done, she comes back to the table and takes a seat. She asks me to place my hand in hers. A look of concentration fills her features. Her fingers trace the lines etched in my skin, her frown deepening.
“Do you see anything?”
She nods but doesn’t say anything. I fidget on my seat, uneasiness creeping down my spine.
Sol puts his hand on my knee and whispers, “Maybe we should go.”
Aunty Rowena’s fingers tighten around my hand, but still, she doesn’t say a word.
I shake my head and mouth, “Just a few more seconds.”
Eventually, she lifts her gaze to mine, and goosebumps erupt on my skin. Her gaze roams my face carefully as if she’s unlocking a certain part of me I didn’t even know existed. I’m starting to freak out. A few minutes ago when Sol and I walked inside this shop, it was purely for fun. Now I feel trapped as a chill grips my heart in its icy claws. I can’t shake it off.
“This line here.” She points at one of the lines on my palm, the thick one. The life line, I think. “You’ll enjoy a full life, a life full of love and family.” Then she traces the two lines on the side of my hand. “Two hearts, one soul. I see two men in your future. You will be forced to make very difficult decisions. Decisions between life and death. Decisions between the two men in your life.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise. I pull my hand back and laugh nervously. “Two men? I doubt that.”
Her gaze cuts to Sol, then back to me, smiling patiently. “I’m only telling you what I see, child. Your future has yet to play out.” She pulls out a piece of paper from a drawer and scribbles something on it, then slides it in my direction.
I look at the sum on the paper, dig out a couple of ten-dollar bills, and set them on the table as I stand. “Thank you,” I mutter as I turn and trail Sol out the door.
Sol wraps his arm around my shoulders and tugs me close as we head to the restaurant next door, but I’m no longer hungry. I’m still thinking about what she said. About decisions between life and death and what that could possibly mean. Decisions between two men . . . I’m already feeling the weight of losing Sol pressing down on me, and it hasn’t happened yet.
“I don’t believe her,” he announces confidently. “No one has that kind of power to tell the future. Only God knows what he has planned for you.”
I nod, desperate to believe him. I’ve never been one to believe fortune telling or superstitions, but something was so eerie about the way she was looking at me. Aunty Rowena’s words have already burrowed themselves inside my bones, and I can’t seem to dig them out.
“Dude. Did you just fart?” MJ asks, lifting her head and turning to look at me.
“Oh, shut up,” I pant, trying to breathe through this awful yoga position. My legs are spread, my butt is sticking up in the air, and my fingers are wrapped around my ankles. “I can’t believe you talked me into doing this. I swear this pose should be banned.”
She snorts, shifting positions effortlessly and standing on one leg while the other is stretched in front of her. Her hands move forward to grasp the sole of her foot. She rests her head on her knee. “Come on, lazy butt. We’re almost done.”
I straighten and attempt to imitate her, but I lose my balance and fall on my backside with a squeal. “Ack. I am too lazy for this shit,” I moan, stretching flat on my back on my mat, watching MJ execute her pose perfectly.
After leaving the restaurant, Sol dropped me off at St. Peter’s to collect my car. Then I drove to MJ’s place, still thinking about Rowena’s words. The second I walked inside MJ’s apartment, she seemed determined to carry out some sort of initiation to social media. Apparently, she looked me up on Facebook but couldn’t find anything. I thought she was going to faint when I told her I didn’t have an account. So the first thing we did was set one up, then I added her, Ivan, and Sol to my friends list.
The thing is, I had an account up until sophomore year, but I deleted it after breaking up with Gavin. I couldn’t stand seeing all the mean posts and comments circulating on my friends’ timelines. Besides, the friends I’d made in the time he and I were together turned their backs on me, so I had no interest in being social after that. The pain wasn’t worth it.
“Sol is right, you know. No one has that kind of power to predict the future,” MJ says, interrupting my train of thought, referring to what I told her while she was setting up my Facebook account. I tuck my arms beneath my head and face her. “But I’d be freaked out if I were in your shoes and someone told me that. I mean, decisions between life and death? Who wants to hear that when they’re, like, eighteen?”
She straightens to her full height and wipes the beads of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, then effortlessly lies down on the mat. I wish I had that kind of grace.
She winks at me. “Wanna make out?”
The change of subject jars me, and I blink rapidly. “W-what?”
She grins saucily. “You’re staring at me like you want to jump me.”
“Wait, what?” I’m still trying to catch up with this turn of conversation. “I am?”
She bursts out laughing, clutching her middle with her arms. “Oh, God,” she says between hiccups, then points a finger in my direction. “You should see your face.”