It is the plight of every great psychic when they are giving a reading, to have the person on the receiving end become less than thrilled with the outcome. After all, most people aren’t looking for the truth, they are waiting to be told what they want to hear.
My dear friend Bertha had asked me to take her to see a very good psychic in the Bronx who we will call “Bella.” Now I had gone to Bella many times and she was as good as they come. She was rough around the edges, and highly paranoid but other than that, she was a fantastic reader.
I went first and Bertha waited outside in the lobby. Bella didn’t want to cross energies. After my reading Bertha went in for hers. I paced the lobby waiting for her and a half hour later she emerged, less than enamored.
“How was it?” I asked
“She’s the worst.” Was the reply.
“Well what did she tell you?”
Bertha looked like she had sucked down and enourmous bag of sour patch kids. Her whole face was puckered in such a way I thought it might cave into her head.
“She said that Rony and I are not going to make it.”
I had heard very little about this Rony character. All I knew was that Bertha and Rony had been hooking up for the last three months. I had never met him in person as he liked to keep himself away from her friends. While I found this a bit odd, I just tossed it up to each is own and went about my way.
Bertha was so perturbed at this idea she turned to me and sharply said, “I want you to read my cards.”
I almost choked. “What?”
“You can read cards. You tell me what I know in my heart to be true.”
Against my better judgement I went home and obliged my slowly psychcotic turning friend.
I shuffled, she picked her cards and we went into the reading. The minute I saw the tarot cards I gasped. The King of Wands and The Page of Cups were followed by the Devil, the Lovers and finally the Three of Swords. Underneath the King of Wands was the Queen of Wands.
“Bertha. Is Rony married?! I exclaimed in a non-existant attempt at holding back.
Bertha turned beet red. “Is that what the cards are saying? He’s still with that bitch.”
“Bertha, that bitch is his wife and he’s not leaving her. He’s not going to end it with her.”
“Reshuffle.” she spat
At first I was a little taken aback at her brazen demand. But ever the empath, I decided to appease my slowly unhinging friend. I reshuffled and laid the cards out.
“Same outcome Bertha.” I said. As a matter of fact, almost all the same cards appeared.”
Bertha slammed her fist into my favorite throw pillow sending the beads flying. Perhaps we should’ve discussed her anger issues. I thought it best not to bring it up.
“Reshuffle.” She said.
“Bertha. The outcome is going to be the same…”
“Just do it.”
I did. Four more times with no change to the outcome. It was as if the cards were becoming more impatient with her by the minute. When the Ten of Swords appeared followed by the Three of Swords and lastly the Devil, I’d had enough.
“My cards are off the clock. They’ve given you you’re answer. Do what you want with the information. My fingers are raw from shuffling.”
Bertha pushed the cards off the bed in the most petulant of ways and huffed her way out of my apartment. She slammed the door so hard my Marilyn paintings went crashing to the ground.
It would be four months before she would speak to me again. And this was only after Ms. Bertha was dropped by her married lover who incidentally had a restraining order against her. Ms. Bertha learned the hard way that sometimes in life, you just cannot reshuffle.