A Green-Eyed Woman

When I was 12, my mother took me to a fortune teller.  This isn't every odd if you know my mother.  Mercurial does not even begin to describe the whirl-wind of her moods.  When I was 8, we became vegetarians for a whole summer until she decided to open a pizzeria out of her kitchen.  At 9, I was enrolled in an astronautic program because my mother had a dream of me flying amongst the stars.  I made it to only three classes before she pulled me out for ballet.  She claimed her vision of me was actually dancing among the stars, not exploring them.  Ballet quickly faded into karate and from there it was a long steady glide until 12.  And the fortune teller.

I remember pulling up to this little faded blue house along a small two lane byway.  There was a beat up old van parked out front with the word "Psychic" in glamorous lettering.  The house itself was small and soggy with a glowing neon outline of a hand flashing in the front window.  I didn't  hold out much hope for what was inside.  I do remember we entered through what was originally the kitchen.  Now it was covered in mystical symbols and strange smells.  All the windows where draped in tasseled shawls lending an eerie half light to the house.  The stray beams of sunshine lit up the dancing dust particles that swirled through the air as we walked by.  Of course, the doorway was hung with a beaded curtain that lead to the sitting room.  It was full of musty cushions and stank of incense and cat.

"Welcome, welcome," the psychic stood and gestured us toward a table where four chairs where waiting.  I pulled one out and found a fat grey cat curled up on the cushion.  I looked at my mother for help.

"Off now Tobias," the psychic chided, tilting the cushion and ejecting the cat onto the floor where it strolled away with all the feline dignity it could muster.  She smiled at me and patted the seat cushion.  It was covered in cat hair but I was too nervous to do anything but sit.  I watched her as she turned to settle my mother.  She was much younger than I thought she would be.  Her hair was not midnight black but a mousy brown pulled back severely from her face.  Long silver earrings jangled from her ears and deep lines sat around her mouth.  She smelled of cigarette smoke and something else that was earthy and pungent.

"Give me your hand, child," she said, turning her attention back to me.  I dutifully passed her my hand and squirmed as she traced her finger nail across my palm.  It tickled.  A glance at my mother warned me not to laugh.  My mother had an intensity as sharp as ice.  When she was focused, I had learned to hold myself still and quiet.  I had learned to read her moods.  Now, she was leaning forward, watching the psychic with an intense gaze.  Mother's green eyes were narrowed onto my palm and she seemed to be holding her breath.

"Ah, yes," the psychic sighed, running her finger along a palm line, "you were right.  She is a special child.  I see here that she will attain great heights.  She will rise above others.  She will walk amongst the stars."

My mother lit up at this pronouncement.  She grabbed my free hand and squeezed it fiercely.

"But wait," the psychic continued.  Her brow furrowed and she leaned further over the table, studying my hand with an intensity.  My mother leaned forward as well, her grasp on my free hand tight and hard.

"I see her way, blocked.  Many obstacles in her path.  But she can be guided through them.  She can overcome and reach the stars.  But she will need help."  Here the psychic looked up.  My mother met her eyes and smiled, nodding her head.

"Yes," my mother murmured, "yes, I knew it.  I knew I would need to help her.  For the stars."

After that, the psychic and my mother continued to whisper over my outstretched palm.  I don't really recall what schemes they foresaw for me.  The cat had slipped through the beaded curtain and I watched as he rolled about in a stream of sunlight sending dust tumbling through the air.  The only other thing I do remember was right before we left.  The psychic placed my hand down on the table at looked right at me.

"Beware the green eyed woman," she said.  Having listened to so much babbled, I gave it little thought.  But now, years later, I wonder if she wasn't speaking of mother.  Perhaps she wasn't some road side charlatan.  Perhaps she did see something in my palm but I was too young to realize her warning was genuine.