The Yellow Hibiscus Chapter 15

Wednesday, April 22, 2015, 12: 29 PM

Sitting in the back of the bus, wrapped up in shock, ‘How did his hand catch fire? Why did it?’

‘Oh, God! ‘I whispered to myself, shaking with fear.

“Coooopppers Union. . . Fiiiinaaal stop,” the driver’s voice sang with the melodic ring, more reminiscent of a Coney Island Circus vendor peddling his wares at Grand Central.

I was terrified. The bus was empty, and the bus driver was a few feet away, walking toward me, checking all the seats for trash left by commuters. Coopers Union was all the way downtown.

How did he get here so quickly? Where did all the other passengers go? ‘Calm down, girl,’ my inner voice implored.

I unconsciously grabbed the Diamond off the seat beside me. It was now red; then, it switched to yellow in a blink. Securing it safely inside my coat pocket, I hurried off the bus, yet vigilantly scrutinizing the surroundings.

In the East Village, I shuffled into an empty seat inside Joe’s Café, totally appalled and confused. My brain was on fire. Shock and fear were digging deep inside me to answer questions I didn’t dare ask myself or anyone else. I covered my ears with my hands, trying to block out Juan’s blood-curdling scream that was stuck on replay in my head. I heaved as the stifling smell of burning flesh engulfed me.

“No!” I yelled, quickly inspecting my hand after accidentally touching the Diamond in my coat pocket.

I leaped when someone touched me.

“Are you alright?” a concerned voice asked.

It was a waiter holding a tray of empty plates.

“I am fine, thank you,” I answered, “can I have a cup of black coffee, no sugar, please.”

He beckoned to another waiter, who hurried over with a cup of steaming hot coffee. He placed it on the table, smiled, showing yellow coffee-stained teeth, and asked, “Want anything with that?”

“No, thank you,” I answered, staring at the steam that was slowly rising from the cup. I pondered about the instantaneous combustion of Juan’s hand. How did his hand ignite? Was it the Diamond? Why didn’t it burn me? What did all this mean? Fear propelled me up, and I placed a five-dollar note on the table and marched out. I wandered around aimlessly for a while.

Someone handed me a flyer. I took it and read it as I walked. ‘Sister Clancy will read your palm for $5.00.’ I stopped for a minute, glancing nervously around me, wondering where I was. According to the street sign about ten feet away, I was on 23rd Street at the corner of Park Avenue South. The address on the Flyer was 33rd and Park Avenue. I decided to walk. I found walking very calming. Finding 331 33rd Street and Park Avenue South was easy. I kept a steady pace going North on Park Avenue, counting until I saw the Street sign.

331 33rd Street was a small Apartment Building in the middle of the block. A red tubular illumination sign between two windows hung from the second floor. It was a sign of two hands meeting. I followed the red arrows up to an empty tiny waiting area, two chairs crammed between a small wooden table. I knocked on a door, which displayed a massive sketch of a hand, and entered. A very skinny female dressed like a Gypsy, with a red and gold scarf wrapped around her head. A gold nose ring pierced her left nostril, was seated on a wooden armchair. An older lady whose palm she was reading was positioned across from a comfortable red leather armchair in a cozy red leather armchair.

She waved her left hand as I stood at the entrance. I quickly exited, closing the door.

I plopped down on one of the fiberglass chairs, snatching up one of the many ‘People Magazines’ on the small table nearby. A few minutes later, the door opens, and the lady leaves, embarrassingly covering her face. I rushed in as she stepped out, my $5.00 in hand. I have never done this before.

My belief in the Supreme Being, my faith in the church; the core of my upbringing; all felt shattered. Here I am, engaging in cheap sorcery. This was an infra dig! But right now, confused and scared, I knew no other way to try to find answers to questions I couldn’t ask anyone.

The palm reader quickly snatched the five-dollar bill from my hand, folding it and putting it under her crystal ball. I sat down on the sofa facing her. I gave her the hand that I’d used to touch the Diamonddiamond. Silence.

She held her hand out, nodding for me to place mine in hers. Sensing my timidity, she gently pulled my hand across the table and smiled before she dipped her head to study the map I’d offered her. Using her index finger, she traced my palm as if plotting coordinates. In a matter of seconds, she sprung up, staring at me, her eyes locked in terror.

Thank you for reading this piece. I hope you enjoyed it.