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Fourth card: “Obstacle. You have all the tools but you keep waiting for permission. Who the fuck gave you that rule? Was it your daddy? Your third-grade teacher? Because I can call them. I have no problem yelling at ghosts.”
My throat tightens. I don’t answer.
I step out into the Oakland sun. The Botánica next door is playing a corrido. A child is crying over a spilled slushie. Somewhere, a car alarm wails. tarot mercedes dantes
“First card: your past.” She flips. “You’ve been fighting a war nobody else signed up for. Family stuff. You were the referee when you should have been a child. Sound right?” Fourth card: “Obstacle
She grins, and for a moment, she looks like a teenager. “Mercedes because I wanted a car I couldn’t afford. And Dantes… like Alexandre Dumas. The Count of Monte Cristo . A man wrongly imprisoned who becomes a ghost of vengeance and mercy.” She taps her temple. “I was wrongly imprisoned? No. I was guilty as sin. But I chose to become a different kind of ghost. One who reads cards instead of holding grudges.” As I leave, she calls after me: “Hey. That Ten of Cups? Don’t go looking for it. It’s not a destination. It’s a decision you make every morning when you wake up and decide not to be an asshole.” Was it your daddy
She leans back. “That’ll be twenty dollars. Or the name of the first person who broke your heart.”
“People come to me and say, ‘Will he come back?’ ‘Will I get the job?’ ‘Am I cursed?’” She snorts. “You’re not cursed. You’re just predictable. You keep dating the same man with a different name. You keep applying to jobs that will destroy your soul. The cards don’t predict the future. They show you the pattern. And patterns are just habits you haven’t hated enough to break.”