It's in the Cards

“I think we need to get Gemma a calendar for Christmas — who goes to see a tarot card reader in December?”

Karina snorted mid-sip, latte foam splattering her nose. “I’m sure she has her reasons, Darcy. She said it was urgent.”

To be fair, I was used to Gemma’s impulsive whims. We’d been friends for over twenty years, ever since the Great Eighth Grade Science Fair Disaster — Karina’s volcano had erupted more aggressively than intended, spewing baking soda lava across three tables.

Gemma had stuck out her tongue at anyone who laughed, while I consoled Karina as we scrubbed neon-orange goo from her tri-fold board. Technically, that meant the volcano was a success.

We’d leaned on each other ever since. But even I had been thrown by Gemma’s mysterious invitation to visit “Madame Mystic” on the sixth of December. She hadn’t been home for two days, then dangled the promise of coffee and waffles, her treat, to lure us out.

Naturally, she was late.

I took a look at my phone — no missed calls, no texts alerting us of Gemma running behind. And of course, I had arrived notoriously early.

As my Great-Aunt Mabel had always reminded me, “Showing up fifteen minutes early to an appointment is being on time.”

Like a gust of wind, Gemma swept into the café, her coat flaring behind her. A streetcar screeched past on College as she bee-lined for our booth. Sean, the barista who knew us too well, started her order without asking.

I clocked her puffy eyes before she even sat down.

“Eli… broke up with me,” she whispered. “We were supposed to leave for our trip tomorrow. He said he ‘couldn’t handle it.’”

Karina and I answered in unison — me with sympathy, her with blunt fury:

“I’m so sorry, Gem.”

“Couldn’t handle what, exactly?”

Gemma sniffled. “That’s what I’m hoping the tarot reader will tell me. I felt it in my gut, you know? He was the one.”

“Until he decided to break your heart,” Karina muttered.

“Hey now,” I said gently, noticing the way Gemma’s chest heaved, sobs threatening to spill out at any moment.

Sean appeared at the table with Gemma’s latte, his brown eyes softening when he caught her expression. “Gingerbread latte for the lovely lady,” he said quietly. “On the house.”

“I — I thank you, Sean,” Gemma managed to reply. She turned towards us, her gaze downcast. “You guys go ahead and order your food. I’m… really not in the mood to eat.”

We did our best to lift her spirits, sharing our own whimsical predictions of what Madame Mystic might reveal between sips of our drinks and bites of syrup-drenched waffles.

A timer went off on my phone and I winced. “We should go now; our appointment is in twenty minutes.”

Gemma finally let out a laugh. “You never change; you realize her building is right down the street?”

I felt my cheeks warm up. “Can’t blame a girl for being punctual.”

Of course, my brain chose that moment to remind me of the last time punctuality backfired: arriving early at my ex-fiancé’s house, punching in the door code I knew by heart, and walking in on a half-dressed stranger who also thought she was in a committed relationship with Sylvester.

In an odd twist of girl-power fate, she and I teamed up for a dramatic confrontation. Still, I always wondered what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been so prompt.

I shook my head, as though that would force the memory from my head.

Gemma paid the bill, Sean sneaking her a sympathetic smile as she slid her card into the machine, and the three of us walked arm in arm out of the café.

It was strangely warm for December, the kind of humid air that hinted at climate guilt. I couldn’t even remember the last white Christmas we’d had.

At short last, we had arrived at our destination. Madame Mystic was a tucked away hole in the wall, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it door placed between a nail salon and a tattoo parlour.

The stickers on the door were yellowed and peeling with age, cryptically spelling out:

“DAM STIC, BY PP NTMENT NLY.”

“I’ll throw in a tip if she gets these letters fixed up; wonder if she’ll see that coming,” Karina quipped.

Gemma scowled; she had a deep appreciation for all things mystical, which Karina had always teased her about.

“Ah fine, fine,” Karina relented. “Let’s go meet this Dam Stic.”

The doorway opened to a narrow, creaky staircase leading down into a dimly lit basement, the kind that practically screamed “haunted.”

I couldn’t help myself, blurting out, “Are we sure we’re not walking into a trap here?”

“Forget the mysticism — where’s the accessibility?” Karina whispered. “This is a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

Before I could add another complaint, Gemma jabbed both of us in the ribs. “Shush. Indulge me for one hour. That’s all I ask.”

“Only for you, Gem,” I sighed, exchanging a look with Karina that clearly said: We’re going to regret this, aren’t we?

The waiting room was strung with dim fairy lights, their glow barely masking the fuchsia walls. Two sad-looking plastic chairs flanked a loveseat that had very strong “rescued from a curb” energy.

“You’ve… heard good things about this place, right?” Karina asked, aiming for light and breezy but landing somewhere around anxious optimism.

“Only the best,” Gemma replied with zero elaboration.

“Welcome, dear friends,” came a sudden voice from behind a velvet curtain, making me flinch. “I am… Madame Mystic. You may call me Maggie, if you like. Who will be first? Readings are best done one at a time.”

Karina and I shared a look before gently nudging Gemma forward. She squared her shoulders and walked in, carrying with her the heartbreak of last night and the hope of a cosmic explanation.

I took one of the plastic chairs while Karina remained standing, her phone buzzing like a trapped mosquito in her hand.

Karina was the first of us to really make it. Married to Selene for three years now, and hired by her dream law firm at the start of the year. She was always in motion — always working — but never forgot to check in. I admired that about her. A lot.

Gemma, while less fortunate in love, had carved out a niche as a successful voice actor — flexible gigs, cozy recording setups, and fans who mailed her oddly specific fan art of her video game characters.

And then there was me.

The almost-was. Almost married. Almost opened a bookstore café. Instead, I was a semi-successful digital librarian. Glamorous, if you thought “metadata and document preservation” screamed glamour. My dad called it “finally putting your degrees to use,” which was… something.

Another buzz from Karina’s phone pulled me from my spiral. She sighed and blew her bangs out of her eyes.

“I thought lawyers didn’t have busy weekends,” I said.

“The ones with corner offices don’t,” she replied. “I’m still in the trenches. But I’ll put my phone away. Promise. Can I go next?”

Gemma emerged from behind the curtain, tears sparkling in her eyes like she’d just witnessed the emotional equivalent of a fireworks show.

Karina stepped forward into the mystical chamber as Gemma hurried over to my side.

“She’s amazing,” Gemma said, breathless. “It’s more than just tarot cards. She understood my essence.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Ooo,” I replied, trying to match her enthusiasm. “What did she tell you?”

“I drew The Hanged Man and The Tower,” she revealed.

“Oh, that sounds... intense?” I offered, even though my knowledge of tarot was limited to vague movie plot twists and Internet memes. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” she began, “that the relationship was at a crossroads and ended due to an unresolved belief and an unexpected event.”

“And that unexpected event was...?”

Her voice dropped lower, as though Eli might materialize out of thin air. “She knew before I could say it. Eli wants to become an off-gridder.”

I blinked. “A what now?”

“An off-gridder,” she repeated. “No tech. No electricity. No air travel. He told me last night that all-inclusive resorts go against everything he believes now.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. Eli — Bluetooth-in-both-ears, glued-to-his-smartphone Eli — suddenly deciding he was allergic to modern life?

“Wow,” I said carefully. “Didn’t see that one coming. I thought he was surgically attached to his devices.”

“I know, right?” she said, exasperated. “He broke his headphones. On purpose. Just snapped them in half. Then Madame Mystic said my third card — The Eight of Cups — was about walking away in search of greater meaning.”

“And she thinks that’s you walking away from Eli?” I asked, already picturing him trying to fish with a stick and boil rainwater without Googling how.

“Not just Eli,” Gemma corrected. “Maggie — I mean, Madame Mystic — said that card was for both of us. That I need to leave this relationship behind and find something better.”

“Well, I guess if Eli’s planning to go off-grid, it’s not like you’d have many more FaceTimes to talk it over,” I teased.

Gemma let out a tiny laugh. “You’re right. I deserve someone who doesn’t have to flee to the wilderness to ‘find himself.’”

She air-quoted the phrase, and I grinned.

“So… what’s the plan?” I nudged her. “You deleting his contact now, or waiting until after he finishes installing solar panels on his tiny house?”

Gemma laughed, wiping at the last of her tears. “Nope. I’m doing it now.” She fished her phone out of her bag and, with the theatrical flair of someone starring in her own life transformation montage, deleted Eli’s contact.

“Madame Stic really is powerful,” I said. “One tarot reading and — poof — Eli who?”

Gemma smiled, shoulders relaxed, like she’d taken off a coat she didn’t know she was wearing. “Maybe she should start charging more.”

“Or offer a group discount,” I added with a grin.

“Now I just gotta find myself,” Gemma said, ignoring my comment. “And find something better.”

Just then, Karina emerged from behind the curtain. “Does that mean no pints of chocolate mint ice cream while we watch 13 Going on 30 for the hundredth time?” she teased.

Gemma managed a small smile. “Maybe just one last time. Then it’s on to new beginnings. How’d it go, by the way?”

“Next customer, please!”

I stood up with as much flair as I could muster and gave my friends a dramatic wink before slipping behind the curtain.

A whimsical purple door, left slightly ajar, greeted me like a portal to another realm.

“Close the door behind you, my dear.”

Inside, Maggie sat at a velvet-draped table, silver strands in her chestnut hair, rings glittering like dragon treasure. Incense swirled.

“Your name?” she asked, looking up at me with sharp, knowing blue eyes.

“Darcy, ma’am.”

“No need for formalities,” she said with a warm smile. “Take a seat, Darcy.”

I sat across from her at a velvet-draped table as Maggie shuffled her cards with practiced grace.

“You seem… lost,” she said, eyes never leaving mine.

I blinked. “I—uh…”

“In life,” she added gently. “Like you’re walking a path someone else picked out for you.”

I didn’t respond, but I didn’t look away either.

She stopped shuffling. Her jewelled fingers pulled the first card with a flair that would’ve made any stage magician proud.

“The Wheel of Fortune. Upright.”

I leaned forward. A golden-orange wheel, symbols I couldn’t place, a sphinx perched on top. It looked like a compass designed by someone high on moonlight and folklore.

“This card suggests a turning point,” she said. “A cycle breaking. Opportunity, change, a shift for the better.”

“What kind of opportunity?” I asked, more curious than skeptical.

“That’s not for me to say,” she said, already reaching for the next card. “But it’ll pull you away from what’s familiar.”

She flipped the second card.

“The Ten of Pentacles. Upright.”

The image showed a courtyard, a family gathered, a man in a cloak — a whole domestic scene preserved in paint and gold foil.

“Financial stability. Legacy. Possibly inheritance.” Her eyes flicked up to mine. “Has anyone close to you passed recently?”

I hesitated. “My great-aunt. About a month ago.”

Maggie raised an eyebrow. “And the will? Has it been revealed?”

I bit my lip. “Actually... we’re getting the copies of it this afternoon. She insisted they be hand-delivered.”

Maggie’s smile broadened further, like she was watching a well-played chess move unfold. “Then it seems fortune is coming your way. Opportunity and financial stability. Today could be significant.”

Before I could even process that, she pulled the third card: The Lovers. Her grin stretched so wide I half-expected her to break into a celebratory jig.

The card depicted a scene reminiscent of Adam and Eve. I tried to keep my face neutral, wondering just how good Maggie was.

“You’ve been alone for a while,” she said quietly. “And since your last breakup — dramatic, wasn’t it? — you haven’t really trusted anyone.”

My expression must have betrayed me, because she gave a knowing nod.

“This card speaks to harmony. True connection. Soulmates, even. A relationship built on choice and trust.”

“And you think that’s... coming for me?” I asked, trying not to sound like I’d just walked into a psychic’s infomercial.

“It’s not just the card,” she said, tapping each one in turn. “It’s when and how they appear. A turning point, financial change, and a new relationship — one built on stronger foundations.”

I blinked. “So… good news across the board?”

“Opportunity. Stability. Love,” she said. “That’s the trilogy, Darcy.”

I exhaled. It was a lot. I wasn’t sure I believed in all of it, but something about the way she said my name made it feel like a promise.

“Well. That’s... surprisingly optimistic. Thank you, Maggie.”

I pulled out my wallet and handed her the payment. She bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment, already shuffling her cards again like she was clearing the energy for the next mystery.

As I rejoined my friends in the cramped waiting room, I heard the unmistakable patter of heavy rain on the steps above.

“It’s raining,” Karina groaned. “In December.”

“How’d it go, Darc?” Gemma asked, far too chipper for someone facing a downpour. “Karina here got told she needs to focus less on her career and more on starting a family.”

“Fat chance of that happening,” Karina deadpanned, following me up the narrow staircase.

“Opportunity, fortune, and love,” I recited, still turning the words over in my mind like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit together.

Gemma’s eyes went wide. “Wow. That’s… quite the trifecta.”

I tilted my head toward the café across the street. “Want to grab another coffee and talk it over? I’ve got about thirty minutes before I need to head to my parents’ place.”

They both nodded, and we braced ourselves, turning our jackets into makeshift umbrellas as best we could.

I opened the door, immediately feeling a whip of wind and a rush of rain. No, not wind.

Opportunity had come knocking.

It knocked me right on my ass.