Crystal Clear

Fortunes

Photo by Rusty Watson on Unsplash

No way, no way in hell and twelve rusty Salt & Pepper Shaker rides, was Richard McNorgan letting his little girl go in the tent to see the obese woman.

The tent past Two Ton Tessie- The Fattest Woman North of the Equator- was the Fortune Teller. Okay, it’s bullshit, but the woman in that tent had to have some acting skills, not someone being exploited for…he grabbed at the roll at his waistline.

Siobhan would get a detailed explanation at home as to why one performer was…

Richard McNorgan watched his daughter exit the fortune teller tent with her jaw hanging at an angle Richard hadn’t seen, her eyes as though the woman in the tent had given her an amphetamine.

It was a woman, right? Like the black haired crone with the headscarf painted on the tent?

Siobhan seemed to be stumbling, dazed.

Richard stepped forward, foot crunching over some discarded cheese corn, the strobing lights of a spinning ride in the distance smearing neon red across his vision.

When the red blinked away, he saw a smile, though Siobhan’s eyes still seemed glassy, distant.

“She knew evvvvvveryyyything about me, Daddy! Everyyyyythiiiing!”

Richard knew how it worked.

They asked a few questions, examined wardrobes, jewelry, extrapolated from there, dealt in broad generalities that could apply to a wide variety of people.

Maybe 11 was too young for a fortune teller. Maybe…

“Grandma is in heaven, Nadia saw her.”

“Who is Na—-“ Richard started, realizing it had to be the fortune teller.

“She’s Baroness Nadia, Daddy, but she let me call her Nadia because we were connected in another life.”

Richard paused, contemplating that this roadside carnival fortune teller had covered both traditional western religion afterlife and reincarnation in a reading that cost 12 tickets…he did the math…$5.75.

*****

75 was down to one lane south of Carpenter, a stray orange barrel lolling in the only open lane, cars driving up on the median to avoid it, Siobhan still prattling about the brilliance of the fortune teller.

Nadia knew that Siobhan wanted to be a professional alpine skier, Nadia knew that Siobhan wanted to cure blindness, Nadia knew, Nadia knew, Nadia knew.

When they got home, Rachel’s enthusiastic neck hug for Richard before acknowledging her only daughter positively shrieked that something was wrong.

Sean McNorgan was dead,and strangely Richard’s first thought was that the fortune teller hadn’t tipped Sean’s granddaughter to that fact.

Twenty minutes later, wine in hand, Richard gripped the fact that he was now the CEO of Palette Palace Art Supplies, seventy locations, seventy first going up in Eugene, Oregon…no, Bend, Eugene already opened to a disappointing month in February.

Siobhan cried over grandpa, locked herself in her room, emerged with a rock collage of grandpa fishing, haphazardly crafted with Detours Decorative Stone, Aisle 11 in every location except Nome, Alaska, where for some reason art stones didn’t sell for shit, so they buried ‘em in the corner next to Aisle 18.

The collage was on display at Siobhan’s High School Graduation party. Siobhan was valedictorian, apparently predicted by Nadia, that piece of info delivered during the traffic jam after the carnival, ignored or forgotten by Richard.

Palette Palace was down to 33 stores, the Boise franchise filing bankruptcy paperwork the morning Siobhan FaceTimed to say that she passed Explorations in Euclidean Geometry and would be officially graduating from The University of Michigan.

What followed the congratulations and expressions of pride was a game of close range conversational ping pong.

Richard would throw the best party ever

A party would be unnecessary, frivolous, the accomplishment and diploma are reward enough, according to Siobhan.

Richard thought his daughter deserved celebration.

The party, which Siobhan acquiesced to when Richard’s eyes did that puffy thing that made him look like an elderly sheepdog, was a carnival theme.

Siobhan meandered, repeating to guests that she was going to open a bookstore coffee shop in Romeo, and do contract accounting on the side.

Next to a working mini Ferris wheel of champagne glasses, her father insisted she open a gift.

She slipped the insanely beautiful jeweled watch over her wrist and went to hug her father when she noticed that the card was signed by Palette Palace VP of Property Acquisition Norbert Hart.

Twenty minutes and a glass of champagne later there was a certificate for a time share in Boca Raton from President of Marketing Hanna Washburn, whom Siobhan had met once.

And after a ride on the full sized Tilt-a-Whirl that could not have been a cheap rental, Richard escorted Siobhan to the Fortune Teller tent.

Siobhan’s right knee locked in the shadow of the tent.

Did my father track down Nadia? He barely listened when I tried…

His daughter’s trembling excitement radiated up Richard’s arm. He guessed.

“I couldn’t possibly track down the woman who told your fortune…”

“Nadia.”

“Yes, Nadia. But I hope this woman is on par with—“

“She’ll be wonderful, Dad. Thank you.”

Siobhan, with a broad smile, entered the tent.

Rachel walked over and joined her husband, rubbing his arm.

“Think this woman you hired will have the same charm as Nadia?”

Richard bit his lip.

“Well,our little genius isn’t 11 this time around, but I hope she gets some fantastic life insights.”

Richard and Rachel shook some hands, accepted some congratulations, drank a little champagne… and Siobhan marched from the fortune teller tent.

Marched.

Stomped.

“What did she say, Shivvy?” Rachel asked, watching her daughter’s heels sink into the grass an inch deep.

Siobhan marched past her mother up to her father.

She cracked a cockeyed half smile, bit her lip, took the half glass of champagne out of Richard’s hand and downed it.

“Sooo, Dad, Mistress Sophia thinks I believe family is everything, Dad.”

“Well you do love your—“

“That part would have been tolerable, Daddy, if she didn’t remind me how much I love art, which you might have noticed hadn’t been a thing for about a decade now, but she was sure to remind me I love accounting, then we circled back to family as she guided me through some memories I’m sure you remember and talked about security, loyalty, and the dangers of opening up one’s own business.”

“Seems like she’s pretty tuned into—“

“No, not tuned in, Dad. Coached. Some of the things she knew… forget it. Not going to work for Palette Palace.”

Siobhan pulled the beautiful watch from her wrist and handed it to her father.

“Brilliant idea, dad. Horribly executed. Not joining the PP accounting team. Not doing the corporate grind. Opening my coffee shop, not doing fucking… I don’t know… glitter audits.”

The Salt and Pepper Shaker ride was in the distance. Siobhan McNorgan walked toward it, her father’s eyes following her, wondering which one of them would soon be upside down.

******