An Auspicious Circumstance

An Auspicious Circumstance

by Angie Bauman

The breeze hits him as soon as the double doors open. His backside faces the group home. Andre takes in the fresh crisp air. This moment, a sense of freedom, but also a sense of fear. Reminded he’s alone by the way his tattered green duffle bag weighs heavy on his shoulder. The life he once knew exists no more. He says to himself, “I won’t get anywhere standing here all day.”

Andre’s big toe pokes out of its hole from the tip of his worn-down dingy white Converse. His optimism soon fades after his first few clingy steps. There beholds a massive wad of chewed up bubble gum on the sole of his only pair of shoes. Disheartened, he locates the nearest curb to scrape off his bubble gum burden.

Andre journeys along the vast road covered in wind-blown litter and graffitied walls. The tortuous future draws near. He realizes he has no place to go. He rants out loud desperately for answers.

“What’s the point in living? No one will know if I’m dead or alive.” His fists ball tight and his eyes cringe with tears.

Shortly after a car speeds by, Andre’s leg begins to feel a moist coolness. He swipes his forearm across his face to clear his teary eyes.

“What the?” He tugs the pant of his jeans. Splotches of mud seep through the denim. His leg jerks to shake off what he can, though it doesn’t help much. Each step cast with a limp to avoid cold squishy mud against his skin.

A shadowy figure waves back and forth in his peripheral. With a hesitant glance there stands a frail old lady with long grey hair, wrinkly skin, and soft eyes. Her many beaded bracelets clink together to wave him inside. Andre’s stance is stiff and unsure. He repeats to himself, “No one will know if I’m dead or alive,” before he steps into the old lady’s home.

Andre scans the room full of multicolored trinkets and crystals that swing back and forth from the ceiling. The unfamiliar scents of palo santo and white sage sting his nostrils. The thump of a blue towel taps against his chest from the old lady’s tremoring hands.

“Wash up.” She points her long, crooked finger at the scruffy wood door to the left behind her.

Moments later, Andre steps back into the front room, “Thank you,” he says to the old lady.

In the corner of the front room is a round table draped with a deep purple velvet cloth. Various white and rose-colored crystals arranged neatly to one side. Next to the crystals was a deck of tarot cards.

“Sit… please… sit.” The old lady shoos him over to the table. She trails behind Andre with a slight hunch in her back.

“I- I don’t want to sit. I better get going,” he says at a stand-still in front of the table.

“Please… sit.” The old lady’s skinny fingers nudge into his back.

“Okay. I don’t have money to pay you for a tarot reading, and I really don’t believe in this kind of stuff,” Andre says while scooching the chair underneath him.

Andre’s eyes stare at the old lady intensely with the sound of the shuffling deck in his subconscious. He wants to tattoo this moment, more so her image into his brain. He can tell by the way she wears her make-up that she was once very beautiful. Her onyx eyeliner worn with such pristine, impressively smooth over her crow’s feet. Her lipstick is the perfect shade of red to compliment her bronze tone. Long jet-black strands filter throughout her shiny grey hair.

She flips six cards over in row. She glares at each one almost like reading a book then says, “You’re going through a lonely period, but be patient. You will find the answer that you seek. Your destiny plays its part. You will encounter a turning point in your life with positive change.”

Her dark brown eyes take a glance at Andre then to the cards and continues reading. “You will run into a man and you will want to know if he can be trusted. Take heed to whom you put your trust into. You have the gift to influence people and achieve what you want.”

Andre shifts his eyes quickly to the card with the skeleton holding a scythe. Concerned by its appearance he points and asks, “What does this one mean?”

Her red lips stretch ear to ear and says, “This is the death card. You’re experiencing a period of anxiety, depression, and fear with your distressed situation. It’s time to show the world what you’re made of. What you leave behind makes room for new beginnings in your near future. Help is near. You must seek wise counsel and guidance. When you do, accept it from a person you have the utmost respect for.”

Andre’s face furrows with anger, “I don’t believe any of this, lady! If you want money, I’m the wrong person for you.” He shoves the screeching chair back in disgust. “I’m outta here. This was a waste of my time. You called me in here because you’re the one that’s lonely!”

She grips his wrist before he exits the door. “Others will want to influence you with what they want you to conform to. Be true to yourself.” She loosens her grip. Her wrinkled fingers set him free.

Storming off, he talks to himself. “Who does she think she is? Lonely old kook. What does she know?”

A few blocks away, loud pitch screams of joy and play ring in Andre’s ears. Scatters of sunlight peek through the trees.

Andre drags his feet slowly against the concrete, his spirit broken. He drops his bag before he plops onto the wooden bench. He stares at the kids screaming and playing at the park. His mind drifts off, envisioning what life would’ve been like with parents. Suddenly, a man’s voice interrupts Andre’s thoughts.

“I recognize that look,” the man says. Then asks, “Want to talk about it?”

Andre sits uneasy with his arms crossed against his stomach. He cuts a corner glance uncomfortably at the stranger avoiding straight eye contact. The man next to him looks to be in his mid-thirties dressed in a pricey black suit. His unbuttoned jacket shows off his white shirt with the top two buttons undone.

“N-no,” Andre reluctantly replies.

Both men unconsciously watch the kids in the park, concentrating more on the tense small talk.

The man babbles on, “Funny how humans have a preconceived notion that life should go a certain way in order for them to accomplish their dreams.”

He turns to look at Andre and says, “I best be on my way. It was nice chatting with you.”

The man sets his things on the bench. He tugs his wallet out from his back pocket then hands Andre his business card.

“If you’re ever in the neighborhood and want to talk, give me a call.”

The man walks off. Andre is alone again. He looks down at the card then catches a glimpse of something from the corner of his eye. The man left behind a little black notebook. Andre looks up to see if the man is still nearby, but he is nowhere in sight. Andre places the little black notebook into his duffle bag.

Andre leaves the park and heads toward the nearest gas station. He still doesn’t quite understand what the man was rambling about.

Andre makes his way into a run-down convenience store. He grabs a bottled water from the cooler. He figures he better hunt down the mysterious man from the park to return the little black book. He is uncertain of how long his journey will be.

Behind the register, the clerk stands with his arms folded. He analyzes Andre from head to toe, literally. A smirk emerges on the clerk’s face. An uneasiness came over Andre.

The clerk scans Andre’s water bottle and asks him, “Want to make some easy money?”

Having lived in a group home, Andre is fully aware of what illegal acts this man asks of him. Andre knows his appearance is slovenly, but he’s not as desperate as this man thinks. Andre asks, “What do I have to do?”

The clerk demands, “Meet me here at seven o’clock sharp. There’s a package I need delivered.”

With no response, Andre gently snags his bottle off the counter and heads out the door. He remembers the tarot reader’s words… “Others will want to influence you with what they want you to conform to. Be true to yourself.”

He reaches the main city. He takes his shoe off on a curb. He squeezes his foot in between his hands to minimize the throbbing. Just as hope seems lost, he raises his head. The building name matches the name on the business card! Andre scrambles off the curb. He runs across the street and enters the building. Calmly, he approaches the front desk. He can sense the guard at the desk is judging him, but he ignores the negative vibes.

Andre says, “I’m here to see, uh – Richard Johansen.”

The guard smarmily says, “He’s not here.”

Andre, after such a long distance traveled asks, “Can I use your phone?”

The guard points to the front door and says, “There’s a pay phone right out front. You can use that.”

Andre’s head begins to feel tight in the temples, his stomach in knots, and his chest starts to rise and falls at a rapid pace. With a frown and balled up fists, his lips part. Just before he unleashes his fury onto the guard, Richard strolls around the corner. Both Andre and Richard make sudden eye contact.

Richard smiles, raises his arms and says, “Ah! You came. Why didn’t you call me?”

Andre gestures to the guard and condescendingly says, “This kind man right here wouldn’t let me use the phone.”

Richard looks at the guard and tells him, “We’ll talk later.” He shifts his focus back to Andre and says, “Come, follow me.”

Off the elevator, they walk onto the roof top. Richard says to Andre, “I was hoping you would call. I recognized that look you had earlier because I was once in your shoes. I don’t know anything about you except your look of defeat. I was a foster child who aged out of the system. Though I felt like the world was against me, I perdured. I am now the CEO of this publishing company, and a renowned author.”

Andre stands speechless and in awe with a sudden boost of motivation. He reaches down into his duffle bag and hands Richard the little black notebook.

Richard graciously smiles, seizes the silence and tells Andre, “I want you to work for me. Be my assistant. I will provide you with an advance for living expenses and teach you everything I know about running a business. This will give us time to let you find what you feel your purpose in this world is.”

Hours pass as they speak on the roof top. Richard also tells Andre about the twenty-thousand-dollar reward he put out for the return of his little black book. That book holds years of journaling and his life secrets.

A week later, the tarot reader opens her mail. An unexpected letter reads:

Hello,

I hope this letter finds you well. You may not remember me, but I will never forget you. I told you I didn’t have the money to pay you for a tarot reading. I am able to pay you now. Please accept this as a token of gratitude and my apologies for the way I treated you. Thank you for letting me use your restroom and gifting me with words of affirmation. I found the man you spoke of.

Sincerely,

Andre

A twenty-thousand-dollar check lay on her table next to tears of joy.