Page 12 of Sort of Seeing Someone

I know I should be grateful. Grateful that the engineers in class today had the foresight I didn’t to know that whatever was going on with the ceiling was much, much worse than what met the eye. But I’m pissed at how it’s all going down—no pun intended. It irritates me how much joy that Euro guy took in tattling on our studio. Couldn’t he have at least let the dust settle—literally—before sending me to the unemployment line? On the topic of employment, Gavin goes on.

“I can pay you as if you were working full-time for the next two weeks as a sort of severance. Consider it a thank you for all that you’ve done for me. You really were my right-hand woman in all that Joe n’ Flow became over these last two years. My only regret is that I didn’t have you from the very beginning. And I think all of our clients would agree with me there.”

“That’s really nice of you, Gavin. Thank you. Speaking of our clients, do they know what’s going on?” I ask.

“I’m going to work my way through calling our entire customer base, one-by-one. This news is going to disrupt so many people’s daily routines and I feel so bad about that. All I can do is refer them to a yogi friend’s place in Claremont. He’s going to offer waived membership fees for the rest of the month to anyone who signs up. If you think you’d want to pick up some shifts there, I can put in a good word for you. I’m sure he’ll need to staff up with all the new business I’m sending his way.”

Claremont. Le sigh. All I can say about Claremont is it’s the land of strip malls and a twenty-minute drive to the nearest Pacific Ocean entry point. You might as well live in Iowa.

“I’ll think about it, Gavin. Thanks for delivering the hard news, and for giving me a shot back when I knew nothing about pigeon pose or matcha lattes. I’m really, really going to miss Joe n’ Flow.”

“Me too, Moonie. But, hey. Come visit me in Chile anytime. Take care of yourself.”

There it is. My second break-up of the day.

4

Chapter Four

Down the block, a neon sign for palm readings burns my retinas. This must be the place.

My wine buzz isn’t anywhere near where it ought to be. Such must be the sobering effect of news that you’re losing your amazing,cushjob. I know they say, when one door closes another opens. I just didn’t realize that next door would be to Esther Higgins’shop. I let out an audible, “Oh, what the hell,” as I push through the entryway.

A cluster of chimes alert her—and, frankly, the entire residency of the Little Italy neighborhood—that a customer is here. But no one emerges to greet me.

“Hello?” I say, my voice is pathetically quiet as it attempts to cut through the thick, patchouli-scented air. I clear my throat and give it another shot, louder this time. “Hellooooo?”

Through a beaded curtain emerges who I can only imagine is Esther, an old lady with a cloth covering her head. She looks like a real-life iteration of the children’s book characterStregaNona. Dark, beady eyes sit above her large, arched nose. She’s rotund; wearing washed out,drapeyclothing—old-worldathleisure.

“How may I help you?” she asks. I couldn’t even begin to guess the originationof her accent.

“Um, I’m here for a free palm reading,” I say.

“I don’t do free,” she says, already retreating back to wherever she came from.

“No, wait! I mean, I have this.”

I procure the gift card Yas gave me and hand it to Esther. She looks at it like she’s never seen it before.

“Very well,” she says. “Come this way.”

She dips behind the beaded curtain and I assume I am to follow her to her special lair. I put my hands up over my eyes as I cross the threshold like I’m hiking through a trail with dense brush. Once I clear the beads, I arrive in a small, dimly-lit room. Smelly incense is burning and there’s a bistro table for two that she gestures toward.

“Take a seat,” she orders. “I must first cleanse your energy.”

I sit down as Esther waves a burning wad of something all around my head. This seems to go on forever as I all but gag from the smoke. But given the series of unfortunate events today, I don’t blame her for taking her time cleansing me.

Finally, Esther sits down across from me.

“Tip?” she says.

“Beforethe reading?” I ask, never having heard of such a thing.

She nods.

I fumble nervously for a loose ten in my purse and hand her the money. She stares at it with an expression that’s somewhere between disdain and disgust. I agree it’s been put through the laundry one too many times but that’s not my fault. I wonder immediately if I should give more, but that requires asking her if she takes Venmo and I think it’s probably best to let her do most of the talking at this point.

“Hold your palms out. Close your eyes. Three deep breaths.”

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