Page 14 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

“Where did this come from?” I ask no one in particular.

“What is it?” Megan asks.

“A fortune cookie.”

“It wasn’t there when I put away the glasses,” Lynette says.

“You probably didn’t see it,” I say.

My sister is sweet, extremely loyal, and never has a bad thing to say about anyone. But she’s also gullible and rarely attends to details. It’s not like a cookie would just pop into the cabinet on its own. It must have been left by the previous tenants. Lynette simply didn’t notice.

“Open it up!” Lynette says.

“Yeah! Let’s hear your fortune!” Megan says.

“It’s notmyfortune. I didn’t buy the meal it came with. This fortune belongs to whoever lived here before me.”

Lynette looks at Megan. “She’s so touchy about fortunes.”

Megan nods. “Especially for a girl who’s not superstitious.”

“Okay, okay.” I hold the cookie in front of me with pinched fingers.

I carry the cookie over to the living room and set it on the coffee table.

My sister and my best friend watch me.

“Whatever. It’s just a cookie,” I say, picking it up and ripping the plastic wrapper.

I crack the cookie and pull out the paper. I read it to myself and then look up at two sets of eyes studying me far too intently.

“Well?” Megan says.

It’s odd. Most fortune cookies these days say something trite and generic. Not like the cookies back in the days I’d share takeout Chinese with Gran. Those cookies had real fortunes. Not that they werereal, but they did have a portent of some sort, something you could sink your teeth into, not a neutral platitude.

“Well?” Lynette says.

“It’s … Here, I’ll just read it.” I hold the paper up and read the inscription. “The key to your future might be in the hands of someone familiar.”

“Oooh!” Lynette squeals.

“I wonder who it is,” Megan says, as if there’s every reason to trust a stray fortune cookie left in my cupboard by the previous tenants.

I set the scrap of meaningless paper on the coffee table and pick up my slice of pizza.

“The key to your future …” Lynette says, an airy note to her voice.

“That’s huge, right?” Megan asks Lynette.

“So huge.”Lynette nods effusively. “And someone familiar? Maybe it’s you. Or me. Or … it could be a lot of people.”

“You have to eat the cookie!” Lynette exclaims. “Otherwise, the fortune won’t come true.”

“That’s a myth,” Megan says.

“No. I’ve heard it more than once,” Lynette defends, as if repeated nonsense holds more weight somehow.

“Huh,” Megan says. “Well, maybe that’s right, then.” She looks at me. “Eat the cookie, Olivia.”

---