The woman in Jackson Square told me I had brought someone with me.
I smiled.
Of course I had.
He had been with me for years.
New Orleans was sweating through midnight, all perfume and rot beneath the balconies. Rain still glistened between the bricks. Somewhere down Chartres Street, a trumpet was playing something slow enough to make strangers remember people they had promised themselves they’d forgotten.
Across from me, the fortune teller shuffled her cards.
She stopped.
Her eyes moved past me.
Over my shoulder.
Then back to the deck.
My lover stood behind my chair.
Beautiful as ever.
Patient.
He had always been patient.
That was one of the things I loved about him.
He never laughed at my fears.
Never told me I was ridiculous.
Never said, You’re thinking too much.
He listened.
Then he helped.
Check.
So I did.
Better?
Yes.
Check once more.
And somehow, impossibly, I was.
He had a gift for noticing danger before I did.
A door that might not have latched.
A mistake buried inside something I’d already finished.
A sentence that could have offended someone.
A terrible possibility hiding inside an ordinary day.
He saw everything.
I mistook that for protection.
The fortune teller turned over the first card.
The Devil.
My lover laughed softly behind me.
I felt his breath against my ear.
Dramatic.
I almost smiled.
The fortune teller didn’t.
Outside the little circle of candlelight, the Quarter moved around us.
A horse pulled an empty carriage past the cathedral.
Beads hung forgotten from an iron balcony.
A woman in red lipstick smoked beneath a gas lamp while somewhere farther down the street someone shattered a glass and everyone cheered.
New Orleans had never required sanity from anyone.
Perhaps that’s why I liked it here.
The fortune teller turned another card.
The Lovers.
This time she looked over my shoulder again.
My lover rested his hand against the back of my chair.
Ask her.
I didn’t.
The woman turned the third card.
Eight of Swords.
Her fingers stopped.
My lover leaned closer.
Ask what that means.
I looked at the card.
A woman surrounded by swords.
Ask.
Instead, I watched candle wax crawl down the side of a black candle.
His hand moved onto my shoulder.
Ask her.
That familiar little hook caught beneath my ribs.
Fine.
“What does that one mean?”
The fortune teller didn’t answer.
My lover relaxed.
So did I.
Funny how quickly relief can convince you that obedience was your own idea.
We had been doing this for years.
Once, I drove halfway across town before he reminded me about the stove.
I remembered turning it off.
He remembered differently.
So I drove back.
Cold.
Obviously.
I stood there staring at the dead burner while he wrapped himself around me from behind.
See?
I could breathe again.
That’s how our romance worked.
He frightened me.
I obeyed him.
He gave me peace.
Then eventually he found something else that required my attention.
It was intimate in a way I could never explain.
He knew exactly what could hurt me because he knew exactly what I loved.
The fortune teller gathered the cards.
All three.
She wrapped them in black silk.
“No.”
I stared at her.
“No what?”
“No more.”
My lover’s fingers tightened slightly against my shoulder.
Why?
I waited for her to explain.
She didn’t.
The cathedral bells began ringing.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The fortune teller kept looking behind me.
Not casually anymore.
Directly.
“What are you looking at?”
Her eyes returned to mine.
“Forty dollars.”
I blinked.
That was it?
My lover leaned close enough that his lips nearly touched my ear.
She’s hiding something.
There it was.
That tiny electrical current.
Barely noticeable at first.
Ask why she stopped.
I reached into my purse.
Ask what she saw.
I put two twenties on the table.
Ask about The Devil.
I stood.
His hand slipped from my shoulder.
The Lovers.
I stepped away from the table.
The swords.
The current became a pulse.
My heartbeat followed.
The Quarter suddenly seemed louder.
Trumpets.
Laughter.
Hooves striking wet pavement.
A bartender dragging garbage bags onto the curb.
A woman screaming happily from a balcony.
Life happening everywhere without asking permission.
I started walking.
My lover followed.
Of course he did.
Go back.
I kept walking.
One question.
The cathedral bells began again behind us.
You know you want to know.
I did.
God, I did.
My entire body wanted to turn around.
Then we’ll leave.
I stopped.
For half a second, I nearly believed him.
Then I smiled.
Because after all these years, I finally recognized the lie.
I continued toward the corner.
He walked beside me.
Quiet now.
At the intersection, I looked back.
The candles were still burning on the little table.
The fortune teller had not begun another reading.
She was watching me.
No.
Not me exactly.
Her eyes were fixed just above my shoulder.
Then she crossed herself.
My lover slipped his hand into mine.
I let him hold it.
I just didn’t turn around.
(Fade into you-Mazzy Star)
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