I'm so glad I finally planned a vacation! Sun, sea, sand - what could be better in the summer? I was already mentally exposing my face to the sun's rays, soaking my feet in salt water, eating delicious chocolate ice cream, and breathing in the sea breeze.
"I can't wait for a vacation," I muttered to myself as I threw my things into my suitcase in the middle of the room, "no colleagues, no emails, no meetings, no stupid clients with their stupid questions. I was more than sure of what I was saying because I was not taking my laptop with me. I was already sick of work, the stuffy office (at least we had a shady side of the building and air conditioning), the dress code, and the food in bowls. Now it's just melons, watermelons, chocolate ice cream, and piña coladas for breakfast, lunch, and dinner! No, there will be cocktails at the clubs for dinner!
I took the bare minimum because wherever I went, I bought a lot of things that I could barely fit in my suitcase. A couple of times I even had to pay extra for overloading, and once I had to buy an extra suitcase. It's so nice to have money, of course.
My slippers, a pile of swimming suits that I decided not to untangle, and a hairbrush flew into the suitcase. Then I deliberately threw in a bunch of tangled chargers. I hated putting things away neatly: my mother made me do it all the time when I was a kid, saying I wouldn't get married if I didn't, and I've had a strong aversion to order (and marriage) ever since. The only thing I've always kept organized is my backpack with all my important things and documents, so that if I need to get my passport quickly at the airport, I don't have to spend half an hour looking for it.
I glanced at my watch. There were still five hours before the flight, and I had time to call a taxi and get to the airport. It wasn't a long drive, I'd checked in online, and I knew I'd arrive early... but how could I not enjoy the beginning of a magical vacation a little earlier? I always arrived in advance to be able to walk around duty free, choosing a new perfume for my collection, or buying coffee four times more expensive than it is sold in the most expensive place in Kyiv (but it's airport coffee with a taste of travel), or just taking pictures to post on Instagram for everyone to envy. I blinked at the joy that overcame me. I automatically put the bag of runes in my backpack and thoughtfully clutched the tarot box. Of course, I wasn't going to do any serious work on vacation (quitting my day job to continue a side hustle is a big decision; all clients were also warned that they could only write on urgent matters and at triple the rate), but sometimes I just wanted to see what the weather would be like tomorrow, if that cute guy by the pool was married, or which store had the best watermelon.
By the way, I need to see how the vacation is going. I carefully took the deck out of the box and gently ran my fingers along the edges of the cards. Of course, I didn't believe in magic or mysticism (unlike my clients), but the mechanical shuffling of the cards helped reduce anxiety, and surprisingly, the result could actually be useful. Sometimes the tarot spread would remind me of something important that I had forgotten to put in my suitcase (once it was my passport, without which I would not have flown anywhere). I lovingly shuffled the cards. Let's see, what have we got here? I tried the standard three-card reading and asked about the vacation. The first was the Tower. Mm, destruction, collapse, and a situation over which it is impossible to regain control. In general, the Tower itself is not very good, but let's see if it becomes something nicer when combined with other cards. The Reversed Death didn't inspire positive thoughts either. What changes are planned for my two-week vacation? The Reversed Strength made me frown. Come on, that's just nonsense. A difficult situation that requires the mobilization of internal reserves of strength and courage. Is this like being bitten by fish in the sea or twisting my ankle? Let's add another one. Damn, Reversed Wheel of Fortune. The spread looked as if I could already organize my funeral.
I looked thoughtfully at the forecast and mechanically stroked the deck. It was the first time in my life that I had such a bad forecast. Not that I trusted my own (or anyone else's) predictions at all, but it's nice to be convinced, with the help of the banal theory of probability, that sometimes everything will work out perfectly!
Something inside me was itching to stay home. That all the "boo-hoo-hoo" was not in vain, that the cards, my faithful assistants, were not deceiving. Of course, what tarot in the twenty-first century? It even sounded ridiculous. But this was my deck, the one we had been through fire and brass tubes with - it had never lied, strangely enough. I bit my lip. My inner voice - the one that warned me a few minutes before the lecturer called me to the board so that I could at least read part of the paragraph; the one that said it was better not to swim in the lake and then all my friends who laughed at me got an intestinal infection; the one that advised me which peaches to choose at the market - was screaming that it was better to stay home and waste all the money I had spent.
But the forty thousand I spent on my vacation is not lying around on the ground. The Spa & Lounge Hotel in Palma de Mallorca with three swimming pools, a salt room, a bunch of spa treatments, all-inclusive, and the glorious warm Mediterranean Sea were waiting for me. Besides, no one will refund the money for the plane tickets on the day of departure, not even partially. And what about the piña colada and the watermelons?
"They're just cards," I muttered to myself as I stuffed the deck into a bag, "what's the big deal, what could possibly happen?" The Tarot took its rightful place in my backpack, and I resolutely called a cab. The driver was quickly found and I shook off my gloomy thoughts.
I checked ten times to make sure I had turned off the water and lights. After all, if something happens, my mom has a spare key, she'll come in and water the flowers or turn off the damn water. Of course, she'll scold me later for making a mess in the apartment (after all, to pack my suitcase, I dumped the contents of the closet on the floor and was too lazy to put them back), but that's a tenth thing. Just before I left, I suddenly remembered that I hadn't turned off the iron, and I went to check, when I remembered that I hadn't ironed my clothes in three years, and I didn't have an iron. I checked several more times to make sure the oven was off. At least I didn't have to worry about the gas, because everything was on electricity. I angrily slammed the door and heard something fall and break on the other side. My vintage vase, standing on the edge of the nightstand in the hallway! I had put it there to dry after washing it and forgot to move it into the kitchen! I yelled, but I didn't want to go back, especially since the driver was already waiting for me.
The feeling of something bad was gnawing at me from the inside as I carried my suitcase down from the sixth floor on my hump, cursing under my breath. For some reason, the elevator decided not to work today! It's definitely the neighborhood kids who rode it up and down for an hour this morning! When I get back, I have to tell the neighbor to talk to them, it's not the first time! And then the whole neighborhood is throwing money at the repairman!
The taxi driver turned out to be a nice man in his thirties, who immediately got out of the car and helped me put my suitcase in the trunk. Then he politely opened the door and we finally drove to the airport. I looked back at my home and reassured myself that everything would be okay. It was my first vacation in a year, and I deserved it.
Unexpectedly, there was a traffic jam on the way to the airport, and twenty minutes turned into almost an hour. At least I left early. The taxi driver tried to talk to me several times, but I, irritated by the start of the day, broke off the dialog. The long-awaited vacation was becoming less and less pleasant. Literally five hundred meters before the airport, when it was already visible, it suddenly became clear that we could not go any further.
"I have a flat tire," the man mumbled in confusion. "We'll have to call a tow truck…"
I was beginning to run out of moral strength.
"Here you go," I hissed through clenched teeth and handed the money to the taxi driver, "I don't have the time or the inclination to wait for a tow truck.
I took out my suitcase without listening to the man's excuses.
"I'm sorry," the taxi driver babbled awkwardly after me, "maybe I can give you some of the money back?" I waved my hand without turning around. I was in a lousy mood, so I didn't hesitate to give the ride a "2" on my scale.
I took a deep breath, exhaled, and walked away, dragging my heavy suitcase behind me. It was just the universe sending me a test. First they wouldn't give me a vacation, and now this whole series of failures. Was I really going to have to work two years in a row with only New Year's and Easter off? I wanted to scream. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of the alcohol I was about to pour down my throat.
"It's okay, Alice," I muttered to myself, "just a little more and you'll be in Spain." The summer sun burned my head, and I had time to regret putting my sombrero in my suitcase instead of putting it on right away. On the other hand, I had planned to take a taxi to the airport entrance instead of walking in the heat. At least I had put on some sunscreen, otherwise it would have been ridiculous to burn myself at the very beginning of the trip.
The airport greeted me with air conditioning and blissful coolness. Baggage claim hadn't opened yet, so I walked confidently into a cafe for an iced latte. Finally I'm here, now nothing will spoil my trip! I slowly relaxed and my good mood returned. After ordering an iced latte with banana syrup, life was good. After picking up my order, I went to a table where I could finally take a break. Now I could scroll through Tiktok, take a selfie for Instagram, and just enjoy myself...
"Excuse me, ma'am," someone's voice suddenly pulled me out of my thoughts. Was it for me? I looked up and met the eyes of a woman in her seventies, standing next to my table and looking right at me.
"Yes?" I asked uncertainly, forgetting for a second who I was and where I was. Her words seemed polite, but at the same time they pierced me like a blade. I stood there like a hypnotized person, looking at her. "Did you want something?" I didn't like her gaze, it was clingy and cold.
"Give me some money to buy a drink, child," she said to me in a very demanding tone. I was speechless for a moment. It had been a long time since a beggar had so boldly demanded money from me, and I hadn't heard such a plea in fifteen years. Although her voice was calm, there was something about it that sent a shiver down my spine. I almost felt as if I was under the influence of her power, as if she was guided by some invisible threads.
"I'm sorry?" She didn't look poor, not like someone asking for money to eat.
"Well, it's a hot day, I'm thirsty, but I have no money." She looked me straight in the eye, and for some reason I felt a chill run down my spine. I was about to politely refuse, when my intuition - the same one that had saved me more than once - started screaming that it was better not to mess with her.
"Sure," I muttered, reaching for my wallet. The strange woman didn't look at the wallet or the hundred hryvnias I handed her, she just looked into my eyes and devoured me with her gaze.
"Thank you, child," the lady smiled with white teeth and took the bill from me. "And what's in your backpack?" I was surprised. For the first time in a long time, the woman turned her eyes from me to something else - to the bag of cards sticking out of my backpack as I took out my wallet.
"It's nothing, ma'am, just cards," I was getting less and less comfortable with this conversation. My back was wet with sweat, despite the air-conditioned room, and the situation was getting stranger and stranger. The people around us didn't seem to notice us: waiters flew by, people sat anywhere but in the seats next to us. A sort of buffer zone formed around us.
"What a well-mannered woman," she snorted. "And what kind of cards?" The chair moved away, and the woman sat down across from me, boring into me again with her terrifying eyes. "Tarot, right?" I nodded slowly. "Read me the cards."
My mind was racing. I wanted to get up and walk away, I wanted to scream, get someone's attention... but I was glued to this chair.
My hands reached for the deck by themselves.
"What do you want me to tell you?"
"What can you tell me about my past?" She looked at my hands now, shuffling the deck. "What can you tell me about me?" that you frighten me.
As if she had heard my thoughts, she smiled even wider. "What white teeth she has, but I don't think they're veneers.
No one has ever asked me to read the past before. Usually clients asked me to tell them something about their love, and less often about their work. Once, however, I was asked to see where a child had hidden his documents while playing.
"That's a very general question," I said hoarsely.
"Well, try to answer it anyway."
The three-card spread was the easiest, but not very informative. Seven or eight? Probably eight. My hands shook slightly as I shuffled the deck, keeping in mind the request of my unwanted client.
I carefully laid the cards face down. The woman looked at each card with a sharp, impatient eye. I need to finish this as soon as possible and check in my luggage. So some crazy woman asked me for money at the airport and then told me a fortune, so what? I reached out my hand to turn over the cards. The Reversed High Priestess came first. Then the Magician, the Tower, the Death, the Devil, the Star, the Sun...
I licked my dry lips. My eyes moved from card to card, as if trying to understand each one individually and then see the common meaning. The cards told a story, but my mind wanted to feel the connection between them, as if it were the key to solving a puzzle.
Each card had its own power, its own symbolism, but I realized that the real art was in how they interacted, how they created a visual symphony and revealed meaning.
I could hear the soft whisper of the cards, as if they were speaking to me, but I had to gather all the fragments of that voice into a single melody.
"Your work was spiritual," I began uncertainly, "a ruling position? I also see something related to spiritualism." The 'High Priestess' and the 'Magician' next to each other were quite clear about it. "The cards speak of you as a messenger between worlds. Then something happened in your life, a turning point..."
"What?" the woman interrupted me impatiently. She was leaning against the chair, listening to my words, and my heart was beating faster and faster, because I felt that I could really get her story out of the cards. I added another card to the tower, which turned out to be an inverted Judgement. Of course, the next Death could mean a moment in her life, but I could only see one meaning in this scenario:
"Someone important to you has died." I put down another card. Lovers. "Your lover? And he died under some kind of false accusation. Someone reported him..." The woman's eyes were filled with such hatred (for me?) that I was frightened. The devil, Baphomet, half goat, half man. "Have you turned to the dark powers?" I asked with an incredulous, nervous laugh. But it was not funny. So many of the cards in this spread were intertwined with mysticism, like mysterious threads running through the ages. "The Star is your hope for the future, and the Moon... doubt?" The spread ended somehow unclearly, like a mosaic in which I could not see the final image. I randomly chose one more card. Justice. "You want revenge, but you're not sure you'll succeed?"
"Who do I want Justice for?" the woman raised her voice. I looked around in horror, but no one paid attention. "Revenge on whom?"
Do the people around us see us at all?
"Emperor," I read out the card I had drawn.
How strange, how many I had drawn and only the Major Arcana.
"Uther..." the woman hissed with hatred.
"Excuse me?" I didn't understand. "I'm sorry, can I go?" I asked pitifully, gathering my strength, "I've already done everything you asked. Please let me catch my flight.
"Of course," the woman agreed unexpectedly calmly, "Thank you for the spread, child," she thanked me politely and put five hundred hryvnias on the table. I stared at the banknote. What the hell did she need my hundred for? "Take it, take it, it's a fee for the timetable," I looked incredulously into the honest gray eyes that had recently threatened to burn me, the cards, the table and the entire airport. My mother had told me many times not to take anything from strangers, but I'm not a child anymore, and this is my hard-earned money, and I don't have five hundred hryvnias lying around. I cautiously reached for the banknote and squeezed it in my hand, still not believing the absurdity of the situation. Then I suddenly realized that I could move, hastily raked the cards off the table, quickly grabbed my things, and hurried to the baggage claim, forgetting even my long-awaited latte with syrup. "You also had to see who was going to help me get justice," I heard myself say, but I never knew if I really heard it or if I was imagining it.
I trembled with emotion. The bill seemed to pulsate in my hand, reminding me of myself. The further I got away from that strange woman, the better I could think. I gave the money to a beggar, read cards because I was afraid of her, got five times the amount from her, and then literally ran away, forgetting my expensive coffee? Where was my brain?! You've had so many stupid customers, Alice, you learned to deal with them long ago! What did that crazy woman do to scare you?! She just asked you to tell her fortune! You have a lot of customers! I burst with anger at myself and my timidity. I'm a professional! A specialist! I've had enough of you, Alice.
I put my luggage on the machine and felt that something was wrong. Maybe I should go and wash my face, it's definitely from the heat and from worrying about that crazy woman. I went to the bathroom like a drunk, the world was blurring. I had to go to someone on duty, they have first aid kits, and ask for something. But first I had to wash my face... The last thing I remember is opening the door and falling into the room.