The Fortune-Teller's Gift

Liam fell over his jean's leg. He was late again. What was he going to? It doesn't matter, he was going to be late to it. The house as still half-a-mess and it was going to stay that way until tonight.

Egh. I'll do it when I get home.

He was not going to do it when he got home.

Kyle's not going to be happy.

His housemate never was. He was annoying that way. But he was more annoying when he was right, and he was right last night:

"Dude, if you leave the housework til tomorrow, you're gonna be late to your thing." said Kyle.

Asshole, gritted Liam as he put on his jeans, Fuck you, Kyle.

Now, you might be wondering what the 'thing' was that Liam was rushing to, but honestly, it doesn't really matter. What matters is what happened on the way. A fucking fortune-teller happened, and that's where we pick up next:

“HOLY SHIT!” Liam screamed as he swerved his car to block a 4WD from wiping out a walkway and the person it was walking. And the fortune-teller? The fortune-teller was the person on the walkway that Liam had just used his car to save, and now she owed him her life.

“I owe you my life.” She said.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s okay…” said Liam, as the smoke from his engine drifted skyward behind him.

“I always pay my debts” she said…

… Alright, that’s not really how it happened. There was more small talk before this. There was something about her dog, and how he also liked dogs, and how he was thankful he had insurance, and some more thanking, and then an “Oh isn’t it lucky it’s not raining haha” but really, what matters is what she said afterwards:

"But still, I owe you and I always pay my debts," she said, "Come back to my apartment. I have something that you’ll enjoy."

With that, Liam's mind went to the wrong place straight away.

"Yeah, it’s okay," said Liam, "My girlfriend’s probably worried."

He didn’t have a girlfriend.

“You don’t have a girlfriend” she said, “and I’m actually going to give you a gift.”

Ouch, he thought.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t interested in her, it always hurts to hear.

“I’m too old for you, Skippy,” she said, smirking.

“Yeah hah”-

-He stopped.

“Erm… I mean”-

-"Yes. Stop talking," she said, "Come on, now... It will only take a few minutes..."

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Liam and the fortune-teller made their way to her apartment. Liam read the sign on the door:

Madam Serendipity, he thought, Dear God...

They went inside. The apartment was... well, it was exactly what someone called Madam Serendipity's apartment would look like: There were multi-coloured, multi-patterned, multi-layered fabrics over every doorway; there were five incenses burning per room; there were crystals in the place of family photos and life achievements; and shawls… so many shawls…

“Tea?” she said.

“Yes, thank you,” h e said.

“But you’d prefer coffee?” s he said, turning and getting out the coffee.

“That obvious, huh?” he said.

“Well, you didn’t get to finish yours this morning, did you?” s he said.

... what?

"You..." - he must have told her that during their small talk - "have a very good memory."

"Mmhmm," she said.

Liam relaxed.

"But don’t worry," she said, "your housemate will be so preoccupied that he won’t bring up the housework until tomorrow."

Did I bring up my housemate? -he paused - She's cold-reading me. Everyone my age has housemates.

The fortune-teller smiled knowingly.

"Alright then," said Liam, regaining his composure, "What's my house-mate's name?"

“I’m searching for… it's… I’m getting an ‘A' sound…" she closed her eyes dramatically and reached for something in the ether "Is it an ‘A’ sound..? Or maybe... maybe it’s an ‘O’ sou- it’s Kyle. His name is Kyle.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“It’s my apartment, Skippy.” she smiled.

“Now you’re just showin’ off. That’s what my mother called me,” s aid Liam.

“No, it’s not. She called you Punkadunkins,” s he said.

It was as if a house-cat had stood up and started reciting from 'Mein Kampf', first he was fascinated, then he was terrified by the implications of it...

“This is... I...” he stammered.

“It’s okay, I’d be embarrassed b y Punkadunkins too" she smiled.

“I think I should go…” s aid Liam, getting up.

“Then you should take this with you…” s he said.

And with that, the fortune-teller pulled out a suspicious package wrapped in brown paper. She placed it in his hands.

“Erm… thanks?” he said, not really taking his eyes off of her.

Liam went to tear the wrapping paper.

“NO!” The fortune-teller screamed, “You can’t open it here!”

“What is it, Anthrax?!”

“No. Just listen…" she began, "In this box is the secret to a productive life. Opening this box will unlock your greatest potential. BUT once you open it, you will need at least four hours uninterrupted with it. Do you understand? Do not open this until you have four hours spare.”

“Four hours spare,” he repeated.

“Yes," she said, "Now I must warn you. Those four hours will be tough… exhausting even. Do not open it until you’re f resh and ready."

“Uh huh…" he said, "So… the secret to a productive life, four hours of exhaustion, my greatest potential. Got it.”

This is fucking nuts.

“Well… I… I should probably go then,” he said, “umm, thank you, I guess.”

“Mmhmm,” she said, turning back to her kitchen, “see yourself out now…”

As he made his way out to the street, Liam thought about throwing the box into the nearest bin.

Productive life, huh? It's probably speed.

And yet somehow, he knew it wasn't. This was probably more wishful thinking than any kind of mystical thing. Liam's imagination began to pick up steam as he made his way home, and it was a long walk home...

I could finally get my own place... What if I became famous? Hmm, what kind of famous would I be? Would I be screenwriter-famous? I have always wanted to write that screenplay. I've just never had the time to really sit down and smash it out. I could sell it for seven figures! I could act in it! And Jenna Coleman could be my love interest. And then I could marry her... Well, maybe not marry...

It's not important to detail the next 10 minutes of Liam's train of thought. But sufficed to say he and the rest of the world were thankful that he wore denim that day.

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"DUDE! How are you not dead?!" Kyle yelled later that night after he'd told him about the crash.

"I feel like I might be." said Liam.

Liam then launched into a definitely not embellished story of his encounter with the fortune-teller. At the end, the pair sat in silence for a while.

"So... you're mum called you, Punkadunkins?" grinned Kyle.

Fuck... Wait-

"THAT'S y our takeaway?" said Liam.

"Sure, I mean, well that other thing sounds cool too," K yle shrugged, "But I mean, Punkadunkins is a revelation, Dude."

Liam knew he shouldn't have said anything.

Kyle picked up the package.

"So... let's open it." he said, tugging on the paper.

"Hey, fuck off it's mine!" Liam snapped, snatching it back.

"Well then open it yourself,"

"I can't, not tonight." said Liam.

"Why the hell not?" s aid Kyle.

"Well, I'm already exhausted. I need to be sharp to do it. I need the time." said Liam.

"Dude, it's the secret to a productive life!" Kyle said "I'd have opened it on the way home!"

"She said it'll take four hours. I don't have that yet!" said Liam, "I've got work tomorrow. I'll do it when I get home."

"Stay up all night then." said Kyle.

"Don't you have an essay or something due next week?" said Liam, hoping to divert him.

"It's done." said Kyle, "seriously, dude. This could be worth it."

"I can't. It can wait a day. Once I'm ready, I'll open it." said Liam.

"You’re unbelievable..."

Kyle go t up and walked out.

Asshole, thought Liam, he doesn't get it. It's gonna take time.

He leaned back on the couch and turned on the TV to watch Jimmy Kimmel. He only had an hour before he needed to go to bed.

Maybe I won't need to go to work anymore? I could quit. God, that would be great...

And he drifted off into a beautiful fantasy where he waltzed into his boss's office singing 'Fuck You' by CeeLo Green. He imagined going viral… Going on Jimmy Kimmel…

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The next morning, on his bus ride to work, Liam got the first dazzling flashes of his screenplay. The most important part: the ending. He pulled out a notepad and began scribbling. He was on fire.

Imagine what I'm gonna be like when I open that box...

He drifted off, casually letting his notepad fall to the side... he was back on Jimmy Kimmel:

"So Liam," said Jimmy, after a lengthy, well-earned applause from the definitely realistically adoring audience, "Wow, I mean... What an honour to have you here!"

Jimmy Kimmel totally speaks to guests like that.

"Well, first up, congratulations on your Nobel Prize..."

This went on for so long that the end of the bus ride felt like a slap in the face. Liam was now confronted with 6 hours of serving coffee and tea to boomers who blamed him personally for the kitchen staff's fuck-ups, and treated him as if he had just spat in their food. Whereupon, Liam would return the meal to the kitchen and the staff there would proceed to do just that.

"Asshole," said his co-worker, Ellie, "fucker just asked me if my shorts could be any tighter. He's like 60."

"I can take your table, if you need?" said Liam.

"S'fine," she said, "Hey, what're you doin' on Saturday?"

"No idea," said Liam.

"Doin' a thing at mine," she said, "Bring Kyle."

Her place was always a pigsty... But she did have hot friends.

"Sure," he said.

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When Liam finally got home that afternoon he was tired, hungry and thirsty. He retrieved the fortune-teller's gift from his room and set it on the kitchen table.

"Right," he said to absolutely no one.

He stared at it for a moment... And then another.

"Right..." he breathed.

He was pinned to his chair by a weight in the pit of his stomach...

I should get a coffee first.

He stood up and went to the cupboard: Nope. No coffee.

Dammit Kyle!

The store was just up the road. He'd be there and back in half an hour and then he'd be ready to work.

Walking up the road, he caught the scent of pizza.

I haven't really eaten today.

And before he knew it, he was at the counter order an extra-meat monstrosity whose existence would contribute in large part to Liam's heart problems when his 40's caught up with him. But for now, the pizza was a welcome departure from the leftovers he had stored in the fridge at home.

"It'll be a 45 minute wait," said the ginger acne plantation behind the counter.

Fuck.

Liam hated waiting in line. He slumped down at the nearest table. The pit in his stomach hadn't eased... And he was back on Jimmy Kimmel. There was nothing new about this fantasy. He just replayed it the way he replayed the Lord of the Rings when he was sick or sad.

"Order for Liam" called the acne plantation.

Finally.

Starving, he slumped back down at his table and started eating. The pit in his stomach eased a bit. He drifted off again...

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As he strolled into his apartment that night, he had almost forgotten about the fortune-teller's gift. The TV was blaring and Kyle was eating a salad in front of it.

"So?" said Kyle before Liam had even closed the front door, "What was in the box?"

"Jesus, I just got home. I haven't had a chance to look at it," said Liam, not looking at him.

"Well, open it now."

"No," said Liam, suddenly annoyed, "It's 8:30 and I've got to go to sleep in 2 hours."

"Oh for fuck's sake, dude," said Kyle.

"Shut up." snapped Liam.

There was a silence. Liam felt a twinge of guilt.

"Then maybe clean up a bit? It's been two days," said Kyle coldly.

Kyle got up and went to his room.

While Liam wasn't sure whether he was angry with himself or Kyle, he made sure to do the housework as noisily as possible.

Asshole, thought Liam, he doesn't get it.

He wasn't going to open it just because Kyle was pressuring him to do it. He would do it when he was ready.

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After his shift the next day, Liam was out doing the shopping for his mother in her car (his car was still being repaired). He imagined himself as his protagonist in his screenplay, running around after his disabled father, denying himself what he needed. Liam was forced to pull over and start taking notes. Resting his notepad on his steering wheel he scribbled non-stop for 10 minutes until-

-SIRENS!

Tap tap tap on the car window. A police officer was standing on the driver's side.

Fuck.

"Sorry officer" said Liam.

"Everything alright buddy? We saw you leaning against the steering wheel," she said.

It didn't take much explaining for her to leave, nor did it take long for Liam to embellish the shit out of the encounter while imagining himself narrating on Kimmel again. He smirked to himself as he started the car again.

After an obligatory meal with his mother, Liam endured a long and subtle interrogation about his love life in the guise of a conversation about one of his cousins.

"I'm so glad that she's finally met someone," his mother looked at him pointedly and let the silence hang....

This went on for some time, despite Liam's many attempts to change the subject. The pit returned to his stomach.

She dropped him at his apartment. Climbing the stairs, Liam's mind finally let loose.

She'll change her tune when I'm rich and famous. Won't matter when I get married, or what she thinks about my career prospects...

He opened his bedroom door. The fortune-teller's gift stared at him from his bedside table.

Fuck, he thought, it's 10pm. I'll have time on the weekend. It can wait...

And so it did.

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Saturday afternoon steamrolled Saturday morning as Liam and Kyle got ready to go to Ellie's party. This involved an enormous amount of pre-drinking - which was essential - as well as showers - which, at least for Liam, were optional...

"You really should have a shower," said Kyle, "Some of Ellie's friends are fine. You never know what could happen?"

Liam briefly entertained the idea of not going to sleep in an empty bed. The pit in his stomach returned.

"Nah. Can't be fucked," he said, starting on another beer.

Kyle shook his head.

Asshole, thought Liam.

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They arrived at the party at about 8pm and - thanks to Kyle - it took all of 7 minutes for everyone to hear the story of the fortune-teller's gift.

"So? What's in it?" said Jess, a friend of Ellie's.

"The secret to a productive life," started Liam.

"No, I mean, what's the secret?" she interrupted.

"Yeah, Liam. What's the secret?" said Kyle, leaning in for dramatic effect.

The room was silent. Even the music had stopped. Liam looked at his feet.

"I haven't opened it"-

-"AWWW C'MON!"

-ARE YOU SERIOUS?"

-"HOW HAVE YOU NOT OPENED IT?!"

This went on for a while. Liam grew more and more ashamed. Ellie, taking pity on him, changed the subject in the only way that could possibly work:

"ALRIGHT," calling them to order like a teacher in a classroom, "Alright... But seriously though: Punkadunkins?"

Liam appreciated this as much as was possible but the damage to his ego was done. He retreated into himself for the rest of the night.

A few hours passed. Liam was ready to leave, but Kyle and Jess were hitting it off and getting cozy at the same time. He was gonna be stuck here for the rest of the night.

Kyle got up to go to the bathroom, giving Liam a grin as he walked past.

Anger flared up in Liam so fast and so violent that it's a wonder he didn't punch Kyle then and there. He downed his beer and walked over to Jess.

"Hey, just a heads up," he said quietly, "Uhh... My housemate is kind of an asshole. The last girl he had over was crying on our doorstep and he basically just told her to fuck off."

This was an outright fucking lie.

"Wait- So... He's a fuckboi?" she said.

"Yeah." he said.

"Cause I'm not getting that vibe." she said.

"Yep."

"And lemme guess: you're a nice guy that just needs to find a girl who appreciates him?" she said coldly.

"No. Not really. I'm not trying to get laid. I'm just sick of it." he said.

He walked away, but not before he saw her look crestfallen.

She'd left the party by the time Kyle came back.

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"I dunno what happened. She was great. It was great. I- I dunno what happened." said Kyle for the 18th time as they walked home later that night.

"Don't ask me, man," said Liam, "She just got up, said goodbye and left."

"She say anything to you?" said Kyle.

"No." snapped Liam.

There was a silence.

"Are you pissed at me for something?" said Kyle.

Liam didn't answer. Mainly because he couldn't.

"I embarrassed you," said Kyle, "About the box you got. You got embarrassed."

"I'm fine."

"Well, I didn't mean to," he said, "I just think it's nuts you haven't opened it yet."

"Well so fucking what if I haven't!" snarled Liam.

Kyle stopped.

"What?" said Liam.

"Why haven't you opened it?" said Kyle seriously.

"I haven't had the time."

"Yes, you have."

"I've been really tired."

"No, you haven't"

'Fuck you, Kyle."

Liam turned and started walking. He heard Kyle's voice call after him:

"Dude, for once in your fucking life, be honest with yourself."

Liam walked the rest of the way alone, not that he was paying attention to where he was going.

Asshole. Fuck you, Kyle. I'm fucking honest with myself. Fucking thinks he has all the answers. I could be great. I will be great.

The pit in his stomach returned.

I could be great... Couldn't I?

The pit got heavier. He tried to imagine himself on Kimmel, but he couldn't.

Is this what I am? Am I deluding myself? Am I just a mediocre man with delusions of grandeur?

He stopped in the middle of the street.

No! No. I can't be. I can do great things. When I open that box I will become extraordinary. The world will be at my feet. I will be free...

And he plunged into his most vivid fantasy yet. He was walking through his mansion, past his personal bar and his home theatre. Out through the front door where his Aston Martin was parked. He drove off, completely alone and content...

When he got home he had calmed down. He'd been walking aimlessly for hours. The fortune-teller's gift stared at him from his bedside table. The pit in his stomach returned.

I need a shower.

Drying himself off afterwards, Liam refused to look at it, as if he was trying to convince some outside observer that he had completely forgotten it was there. He put his head down o his pillow and put his back to the gift.

I'll do it tomorrow. I swear I'll do it tomorrow...

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The next 'morning' (we can't really call 12:30pm morning, can we?) felt about as good as Liam deserved. His throat was torn to pieces, his head screamed at him, and his stomach was churning beer or guilt.

He felt his way to the bathroom to unseal his eyes with some warm water and - because he had reached the stage where he could smell his own breath - brushed his teeth. It was only when he dragged his feet back to his bedroom that he realised something was wrong...

Where is it?!

The gift was gone from his bedside table. Panic flooded his limbs with energy.

Maybe it fell off?

He dove under his bed. Nothing.

He checked behind his bedside table. In his blankets. In his dirty clothes basket. Under the dirty clothes that never made it to the basket. Nothing. It was gone.

The pit in his stomach had been ripped out. Now there was a gaping void beneath his lungs. He couldn't find his balance. His head felt like he'd just finished vomiting. the room was spinning.

Maybe Kyle knows?

"Ky..." - he was struggling to connect syllables - "Kyle?"

He pulled himself into the living room.

"Kyle?" he said, trying to call.

No answer.

Stumbling around, Liam looked for any sign of Kyle or the gift. Nothing.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

His knees began to buckle.

It's gone. Oh my god, it's gone.

He collapsed onto the couch, rocking back and forth, head in hands.

I waited too long and now it's gone. I waited too long.

His whole body shook.

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" he screamed.

His insides had returned and they were churning violently. He could barely stand, but he had to. He only made it to the bin before he vomited.

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The day passed like eternity. All he could do was lie in bed and relive every opportunity he had missed: the internship he missed out on because he was fantasising about finishing uni early. Which he didn't. The time he passed up on going to Europe because he was fantasising about starting a website. Which he didn't. And the time he passed up on dating the girl of his dreams because he was fantasising about becoming a movie star.

Now he'd lost the ultimate opportunity. He'd trapped himself in his life. He was mediocre. There was no hiding from it anymore. He stared at the ceiling and wondered if it wouldn't be better if it just caved in on him.

Kyle didn't get home until that night. Liam had barely moved all day. He managed to catch Kyle before he went into his room:

"Have you seen it?" said Liam.

"Seen what? The vomit in the bin?" said Kyle coldly.

"No. The gift. It's gone." said Liam.

"You lose it?" said Kyle.

"It was on my bedside table and now it's gone..." said Liam.

"Don't ask me, man. Besides, it's not like you were ever going to open it anyway." said Kyle.

Kyle slammed his door in Liam's face.

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Liam was awake all night. When his alarm went off, he very seriously considered quitting his job. It was more habit than anything else that got him out of bed.

"Wow, you look like shit," said Ellie as he clocked in on the roster, "I haven't looked that bad since the last exam bloc.

Liam couldn't speak. He went through his shift as if he were someone else watching himself take orders and make coffee and take orders and get sworn at and make coffee... He was so detached that he forgot to take a lunch break.

It was the same on the bus ride home... Then at the pizza place...

"Order for Liam?" called the acne plantation.

Liam returned to his table and opened his pizza box. This was it. This was the best part of his day. He remembered the last time he ate here. He remembered his Jimmy Kimmel fantasy as if it were someone else's. He scoffed:

"Fucking idiot," he said, loud enough for the next table to hear.

He thought of his screenplay. He thought of how this current scene in his life matched up perfectly with his subplots arc... And if he made it so it was caused by him lying to his best-friend's love interest then it would fit the theme of betrayal perfectly.

What does it matter? Liam thought, chewing his melancholy away with extra anchovies, No one's ever going to read it. It's never going to get made. I'll never be famous...

But as the hours rolled by, the scenes kept coming in small flashes here and there, distracting him from his mood. Finally, after he got home, Liam started to write it all down just to get it out of his head. He put his notepad on his bedside table and drifted off to sleep.

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The next day was a little better. He took his notepad to work to give himself something to do on his lunch break, and when he finally did sit down in the backroom there were ideas waiting for him.

Betrayal... I betrayed Kyle... And for what?

He went back out, waited for a lull in customers and pulled Ellie aside.

"Hey, who was your friend who Kyle was hitting it off with at yours?" he said.

"Jess? Why?" Ellie asked.

"Well..."

And he proceeded to tell her exactly what he'd said to Jess to turn her off Kyle.

"Wow... That's pretty shitty, Liam," said Ellie.

"Can you tell her I was lying. He's a really decent guy and she should shoot him a message," he said.

He returned to the backroom feeling good for the first time since Saturday. He only had 15 minutes left, but that was enough. Eating as he wrote, he wrote an entire scene where the subplot character confessed to the best friend's love interest.

It was the same on the bus. Scribbling down random thoughts and scene ideas wasn't just to get them out of his head, it was therapeutic. It didn't matter so much now that he knew he would never be famous. When he sat down to eat his leftovers he found that the notepad was still open beside him.

The weeks went by. Kyle was avoiding him but Liam did find comfort in seeing Jess come and go. She even gave him a half-smile as they passed each other in the kitchen. Slowly, Liam's notebook turned into Liam's notebooks. When he'd filled the third he knew it was time to put fingers to keys. He opened his laptop and started typing.

More time passed and he was printing out his first completed draft. He layed it down on the kitchen table and stared at it.

My God. I did it.

Kyle's bedroom door opened. He walked out and dropped something in front of Liam: the fortune-teller's gift.

"Ellie told Jess that you confessed..." Kyle said, "But not before Jess messaged me herself. So I took it from you. And even after Jess told me you confessed. I stayed mad. That was a fucking shit thing to do, dude."

"I'm sorry, man." said Liam.

"You're forgiven... You gonna open it" said Kyle.

Liam smiled:

"I'm going to give it back."

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Liam drove absent-mindedly, the fortune teller's gift in his passenger's seat, smiling to himself. He cruised the backstreets, looking for Madam Serendipity's building...

There it is.

There it was: one block away. He smiled to himself as he pushed on the accelerator.

She probably knows I'm comi-

-SCREEEECH! BOOM! Two tonnes of metal collided... but not Liam's car. He'd cruised out into an intersection, right into the path of a 4WD. He would have been crushed had it not been for the Hyundai that sped out and cut it off.

"Didn't you see me wavin' at you?" said Ellie, who was shaken but otherwise unhurt, "I'm sittin' there, wavin' at you and your starin' off into space, smilin' like an idiot, cruising into oncomin' traffic!"

While Ellie was alright, her Hyundai was not. It's front looked like a half-eaten bagel that had just been set on fire.

" I guess I owe you my life?" said Liam.

"Yeah, you fucking do," she said.

Liam laughed and before he could see Ellie's reaction, he turned and opened his passenger door.

Walking back to her, he placed the fortune-teller's gift in her hands.

"Is this what I think it is?" she said.

"Four hours," said Liam, "And don't do it 'til you're fresh and ready..."

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Arriving home that night, Ellie sighed at her messy apartment. She placed the package on her kitchen bench - she hadn't let go of it all day - and stared at it...

I'll do it tomorrow, she thought.

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