Chapter 33
Chapter
Thirty-Three
“If you have a sister and she dies, do you stop saying you have one?
Or are you always a sister, even when the other half of the equation is gone?”
― Jodi Picoult
Jade
19 years old
Eleven years ago
“Do you know why I love Boston so much?”
She looped her arm through mine as I brought my ice cream to my lips, savoring the taste of vanilla. My eyes wandered around the Harvard Square Mayfair Festival. I took in the crowd, the mouthwatering smell of pizza and street food, the smooth jazz music spilling into the air, and the way people danced together on the small stage. It was mid-spring, and after yesterday’s argument about who was supposed to do the laundry but hadn’t, Mama had grounded both of us.
Yes, grounded.
At nineteen, I could still get grounded. Humiliating.
Turns out, it had been my turn to do the laundry. To make it up to myself, and to Stella, I asked her if she’d wanted to come with me to the Mayfair Festival. Now, what fourteen-year-old wouldn’t jump at the chance to follow her big sister to enjoy a day of fatty food, good music, and cute boys?
She said yes, and just like that, all was forgiven.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because it reminds me of New York, you know? Like, the way the lights sparkle at night, the busy streets, and all the cute boys walking around in suits. One day, when I’m all grown up, I’ll move there, get a cute little apartment overlooking Central Park, and…”
I was mid-lick, savoring my ice cream, barely listening to her as she rambled on about Boston and New York, probably working her way up to something straight out of a rom-com. Vanilla dripped dangerously close to my fingers when a man with devil-red paint smeared across his face stepped right in front of us, forcing me to stop.
“Which one of you bellissima ladies wants to uncover what fate has in store?”
I stared at him blankly, his Italian accent strongly tickling my ear, then followed his dramatic gesture to a small, dark tent tucked between two vendor stalls. The fabric was a mix of black and gold, with a crooked wooden sign propped outside that read, “Fortune Teller.” Underneath, in bold, uneven letters: “$5.”
“Not me, buddy,” I said, waving him off.
I went back to licking my cone, already halfway down the street when Stella grabbed my arm, practically yanking me back.
“Jadie! Oh my god, please, let’s do it!”
I turned, groaning. “Seriously? You want him to tell you your future?”
“It’s only five bucks!” She clutched my arm like her life depended on it, wide-eyed and practically bouncing. “What if he says something cool? What if he knows something?”
“What’s he gonna know? That my ice cream’s melting? Because same,” I muttered, licking the drip off the side.
“Jaaaadie.” She dragged out my name like a five-year-old. “Please!”
“Stella, it’s a scam. A five-dollar scam!”
“Please, Jadie. Just five minutes,” she whined, clasping her hands in petition now.
I groaned, glaring at the devil-painted man, who was watching us with a smug grin, clearly sensing he’d won. “Fine! But if he tells me my soulmate is a Capricorn, I’m leaving.”
Stella squealed and dragged me toward the tent, already beaming like her future had just been written in the cards.
The inside of the tent was even darker than I expected, the air heavy with the faint smell of burnt sage and something sickly sweet. Fake skeletons hung in the corners, their hollow eyes staring at us, and cobwebs—probably real, knowing my luck—draped the ceiling like some low-budget haunted house.
A single wooden table sat in the middle, draped in a deep-red velvet cloth, its edges frayed like it had seen better days. Fat, black candles were scattered across it, their flames flickering low, casting jagged shadows on the walls. A crystal ball sat dead center, the light catching its surface and refracting eerie streaks of blue and green.
The man gestured toward two stools—old, creaky ones made of rough, uneven wood. I sat gingerly, half expecting it to collapse beneath me. Stella, of course, plopped down like this was the best day of her life.
The second we were seated, a chill ran down my arms, and I instinctively rubbed them. It wasn’t cold exactly, but something about the atmosphere made my skin crawl, like the tent itself had secrets it wasn’t planning to share.
The man slid into the chair across from us.
Without a word, he extended his hand, palm up, the universal signal for money first.
I sighed, digging into my bag, and slapped a ten-dollar bill into his palm.
He pocketed the bill and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His gaze shifted between us, the flickering candlelight making his painted devil face even more grotesque.
“ Allora ,” he said, his voice dropping to a raspy whisper, “which one of you ladies is brave enough to go first?”
Stella raised her hand. “Me!”
The man grabbed a deck of cards, and with a flick of his wrist, they spun between his fingers in a blur of black and gold. His hands moved quickly, fluidly—like he was performing some dark magic, or maybe just trying too hard to be dramatic. For a solid two minutes, all we could hear was the rustle of cards and the eerie hum of distant chanting. It was low, like a dark lullaby, the voices of both men and women blending together.
And then, just as the air grew thick with that strange energy, the music abruptly cut off.
The man stopped, placed the deck in front of us, and spread the cards out in a fan. “Choose three cards, my child.”
Stella’s eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store, and I could practically see her pulse quicken. She giggled, pointing to three cards.
The man reached for the cards, slowly turning each one over.
As he laid them out, my stomach dropped.
The first card was the Two of Cups.
Then came The Lovers, reversed.
And finally, the last card - a depiction of a corpse pierced brutally, unmoving - the Ten of Swords.
A chill ran down my spine.
The man’s eyes darkened. “You were blessed on this earth to have the deepest connection with someone— la tua anima gemella , your soulmate.”
“That’s you, Jadie!” Stella beamed, squeezing my hand with a smile so wide it was contagious.
The man’s expression shifted, his tone more serious. “You’re going to fall in love—hard. It will be your first, and only lover. You’ll love him deeply, deeper than love itself.” His eyes narrowed as if the next part was something he didn’t want to say, but he had no choice. “But this love… will be your doom, dolcezza .”
I blinked, waiting for him to continue.
He pointed to the last card—Death—and my skin prickled. “This love will kill you. Figuratively. Spiritually. Physically.”
I stood up, throwing my hands in the air. “That’s it? We pay you five bucks each just for you to spout random crap like this?” I shook my head, already over it. “Come on, Stella, we’re leaving. Told you it was a scam.”
Stella laughed. “Hold up—me? Falling in love? Having some tragic, dramatic love story like Romeo and Juliet? That’s so cool!”
I shot her a look.
“Sit, dolcezza . I’m not done.”
I stopped in my tracks, irritated, but also weirdly intrigued. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I muttered, but reluctantly plopped back down.
Stella was grinning now, practically vibrating with excitement. “Jadie, you have to admit, it’s fun. Maybe it means something!”
“Yeah, it means I just wasted ten bucks,” I muttered, crossing my arms.
The man’s gaze went ice cold. Without saying a word, he grabbed the cards and shuffled them, his eyes locked on mine, like he could see straight through me.
Then, he spread them out, face down on the table.
“Pick three.”
I pointed to three cards, my foot tapping impatiently on the wooden floor, just wanting this nonsense to end. Stella grabbed my hand again, her grip tight with excitement.
The man turned the cards slowly, one by one.
The first was the Two of Cups again, then the Five of Cups, and finally, Temperance.
“You are blessed…” he began, his voice taking on that weird, mystical tone again, “You were blessed on this earth to have the deepest connection with someone?—”
“Yeah, yeah, we already know about that,” I interrupted, rolling my eyes. “Change the disc, buddy.”
His brows furrowed, clearly unfazed. He pointed to the Five of Cups. “You’re going to lose someone you love. Someone who is closest to your heart. And the grief will take everything from you. You’ll spiral… almost lose your life.”
I stared at the card.
Then he pointed to the angel on the Temperance card, his voice softer now. “But someone is going to save you. Balance you. This angel will be your salvation, your savior. Your guardian angel. Tuo angelo .”
Silence fell over us.
I glanced over at Stella, her eyes wide with wonder, completely wrapped up in whatever the man had just said. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. The man’s expression was blank as he sat there, unmoving.
“Wow, so original,” I scoffed, shaking my head. “Thank you so much, Satan.”
I stood up, gesturing for Stella to follow me.
As we made our way out of the tent, a cobweb brushed my hand, and I winced in disgust. “Ugh, seriously?” I muttered, shaking it off as we stepped back into the sunlight.
The bright rays hit my eyes, making me squint. Stella circled her arms around mine, her grin still plastered across her face.
As we turned, his voice stopped us cold. “You called me the devil,” he said, his grin razor-sharp. “But it’ll be the same thing people call you soon— Diavoletta .”
With a wink that chilled more than charmed, he slipped back into the shadows of his tent.
What the hell?
I turned to Stella with a sigh. “You owe me ten bucks now.”
She laughed, clearly unbothered. We kept walking, the absurdity of the whole fortune-telling thing fading from our minds as we neared a hot dog food truck.
The sound of the sizzling grill and the smell of mustard and onions filled the air, replacing the weird energy of the reading with something much more satisfying.
Her arm wrapped around mine, and for a moment, the world felt perfectly normal again.