The dense steam closed in over him as Saiou allowed his head to rest on the tub's edge. His last reading with an elderly man he had never seen before ended at 5:43 and he stopped taking customers at 6:00. The elderly man's queries had been easy enough to answer and their business had concluded smoothly. The gentleman would not be back.
However, not all business could be as such.
Frowning, Saiou closed his eyes and thought back to the nervous girl that seemed to deliberately seek him out.
She must not have a lot of friends. She must be looking for a miracle in the Tarot…or in me.
It wasn't as if the girl herself had caused him distress; it was the card she had coaxed him to collect that had prompted such a reaction. He shouldn't be afraid of Major Arcana 15, but sometimes despair overwhelmed him when he considered his inevitable fate—a fate he couldn't even begin to explain to this girl.
Which begs the question: why was she given that card in particular? Could somebody else be as evil as me?
Foolhardily smirking at his to-be tragic destiny; Saiou rose from the rapidly cooling water and grabbed for the fluffy towel he had laid out for himself a half hour or so before.
He usually bathed after his readings. Often, drawing the cards for complete strangers or drawing the cards in general made him feel unclean. Especially when the Devil crossed his path.
I should speak with Mizuchi or Edo about this. Perhaps they have more experience with hopeless female infatuations.
If it were all the same, Saiou would prefer never meeting with her again. Her glazed eyes unnerved him, her slumped shoulders and wan expression alarmed him, and the card she had indirectly requested was the icing on the cake.
Lost in thought, Saiou reached for the robe that hung on a nearby hook whilst simultaneously redirecting the towel to his dripping navy blue hair.
Halfheartedly, the girl bobbed her head to the beat of the music issuing from the computer speakers. Her mother had just recently arrived from work and now it was presumably time for dinner.
What will it be? Pizza? Burgers? Fried Chicken?
Some would consider herself lucky. From four to six-thirty, she had her run of the house. With a mother that worked mornings and most of the nights away, she had oodles of free time. Had it not been for her cat Cookie, she would have spent it alone.
It wasn't as if she was chronically anti-social; it was just that she preferred her solitude. Most people didn't get her anyway. As long as there was a check next to her name one the daily attendance sheet, no one paid her any heed—which was fine. She didn't want them to notice her.
Presently, she was reading her horoscope; trying to size up the week ahead of her. This did not always reassure her constantly wandering mind.
"Karin? I'm back!"
Abruptly, the bedroom door opened. In a flash, Karin clicked the little 'x' in the upper-right hand corner of the screen. However, it was too late to hide her music. It had already been heard. Thankfully, the lyrics had emanated from one of her "cleaner" songs.
Soon, her mother stood in the doorway—holding a distinctly shaped styrofoam container. Chicken it was then. As she took in the sight of her mother, the woman frowned.
"This is your History homework? Don't you have that research paper to write for tomorrow?"
This particular piece of homework involved two more pages of typing. Oh, well. She could hand it on Monday for partial credit if it got too late.
"I can listen to music and do homework at the same time," Karin responded matter-of-factly.
Her mother was observably counting to three. "I brought dinner. Eat it downstairs at the table for a change or at least in the living room—not up here. You're always up here."
Karin cringed at that 'not.' Her mother's tone meant business.
Reluctantly, she closed the web browser before shutting down the computer entirely. She had to eat sometime. Now was good as any other.
As Karin made her way to the first level of her home, she couldn't help but wonder what the psychic was doing right now. Something secret no doubt. Something mystical. Like his eyes. Never had she seen such a rich shade of purple. His entire demeanor spoke volumes that she couldn't read. This irritated her.
I have to see him again…
It was getting to be an obsession she knew. Still, she was getting her fortune read and getting to know that intriguing presence both. What could be better?
Positioning herself on the powder blue couch, Claire popped open the top of her ready-to-eat meal. Mashed potatoes, gravy, corn, and fried chicken greeted her. It was all a part of a balanced if not a bit unhealthy supper.
Her mother plopped down on the couch beside her. The silence was beginning to settle in.
Karin helped herself to a bite of biscuit before asking her question.
"Is dad any better today?"
Her mother sighed heavily. Karin was already resigning herself.
"The doctors don't know yet, sweetheart. They don't know."
"Do you think he'll get better soon? When will they know?"
Absent-mindedly, her mother fingered the golden cross at her throat. "Have patience, Karin."
Dropping the subject, Karin started on the chicken with the now fully formed intent of what to ask the vivid-eyed psychic next…
Author's Note: This chapter was very OC-centered. My apologies. I made Karin as un-Mary-Sue-like (Is that a word?) as possible, and I hope I have succeeded.