Eight of Pentacles [Reversed]

A Flophouse—LATE AFTERNOON

I bang into the room, keys jangling, and slam the door behind me. I throw my coat and keys down and dive under a pile of cardboard boxes to cower I my nest. I've forgotten the bottle though and soon snake a hand out of the shadows to nip the orange liquor out of the pocket of my trench coat on the floor.

Seven of Wands [Reversed]

By The Shore—NIGHT

I am camping By the Shore again when the missionaries arrive. They gather the scots and me and lead us to a platform of wet sand which they have created on the beach.

“This, if laid upon,” they say, pointing to something of a dais in the center of the mound, “Allows the spirit to echo throughout all the sleepers on the platform. A sort of local kiva ritual.”

They also say my soul is clearly the most disturbed so I should sleep on top of the dais and everyone else around the base in order to feel my pain and understand.

“I appreciate the idea,” I admit, “But don’t believe in such nonsense.” I scuttle off toward Iris. Who has made an appearance on the edge of the gathering crowd. Who has been overhearing.

“You want to hear my echo?” I call to her as I approach.

She says nothing.

“Come on! Let me show you how it reverberates!” I begin to say grabbing her shoulder jokingly. She shrugs me off violently.

“You are a freak!” she tells me in a hiss. I look to Mary. Who is also near. She nods in agreement.

I run off heartbroken.

Three of Cups [Reversed]

The City—LATE AFTERNOON

I hurry back to my room clutching my bottle. Still out of habit, I smile at the girls as I muscle through the crowded street full of bars and cafes. They frown back. I remember that I’ve become quite gaunt in these days of loneliness and wasting, and I return my hat and glasses.

As I now slide through the people like an unseen ghost, I spot Iris coming towards me, laughing with some friends. One is Spike. Of course. He’s gotten to her too. She spots me and waves me over. I can hear her say to the others “Is this the person who big balled my brother?”

I ignore it and instead I turn and run as fast as I can, across the street—shoes and hat flying—and into the doorway of my decrepit flophouse.

Knight of Wands [Reversed]

Back At School—NIGHT

It is a wet dreary night. And I stand dripping outside of the girl’s dorm.

I’ve asked Anna Feng to accompany me to the festival where I have work presented, even though I know she now has a boyfriend somewhere. I try to explain it to her.

“Last time we dated it was a fake date with real emotions,” I say as she nods, confused, “That is to say. I really cared for you. This time it is a real date. I need someone. But with fake emotions. That is to say. I know better than to care for you.”

“I’m cancelling our date. Or whatever it is.” She frowns at my speech, “I don’t want to go out for the evening anymore.”

But seeing me shivering outside in the quad, she relents and allows me unheard of access into her dorm, though she shoos her roommates away from me when we go upstairs to her quarters.

We talk quietly. Not discussing our conversation outside. I will have to go to the show alone. Not at all is more likely. She looks out the window a lot, particularly at the parking lot across the street across the street. She is frantic and near tears as a black pickup slides into a spot.

“What’s the matter?” I hug her and she tries to wriggle away but I tell her, “It is Okay. I will help you whatever is amiss.”

“Okay, listen.” She sobs, “Occasionally I am a courier for some shady east European organization. I have tried to stop but I cannot.’

“Okay.”

“There’s more. I was called in earlier today. I think I was spotted. Trailed, I believe, by a government agent.”

“Okay.” I digest the information, “I guess I don’t know what to do. But I promise I will protect you.”

I mean to, but when I turn to look at the truck out the window and she darts out the room. I follow falling farther and farther behind as she sprints down the back stairs and out into the night. I aim to continue to chase her but am stopped by an amiable, clean-cut guy in a smart suit, stepping around a corner to confront me.

“Probably the boy-friend,” I frown to myself. But then wonder to myself if he is a government agent. Or a European mobster.

“I guess Anna Feng doesn’t want to hang out tonight,” smiles the amiable, clean-cut guy in a smart suit.

“Why does he make light of this” I frown to myself. But then wonder if he knows I want to replace him.

“Let me guess,” smiles the amiable, clean-cut guy in a smart suit. “She told you she’s been playing secret agent again, didn’t she?”

Nine of Pentacles

The Market—LATE AFTERNOON

I talk to the homeless, for a sec, and then wander into the all-nite supermarket. The store has everything, and I re-kindle a little good feeling toying with a state-of-the-art computer on display, and then play a short blues tune on a nearby piano for sale. Somewhere I can hear someone else is performing and everyone is enthralled. I wonder if I am invisible. But, I spot Andrea coming down the rows, shopping and decide I need to piss, and head into the customer service area before she spots me.

Empty, again. In all senses. I need to find the booze section of this place. I find it way in the back, near abandoned.

I look around the dusty, barren department. The shelves are bare, but I find that there are a few liquor selections behind the counter and register, as well as a long line for them. I wait in line impatiently, sizing up my choices. Many of the other patrons look seedy and there are some homeless men passing a bottle in one corner. I scrutinize the selection, thinking most everything is either very expensive or low in proof, and all is in short supply! After an agonizing wait I am finally in front of the tired-looking cashier.

“Whaddaya want?” she growls.

I remove hat and glasses to reveal my now skeletal face. It is a face no one ought to trifle with. Scrutinizing the shelves again, I point to some brightly colored bottles on the top-shelf.

“If I may be frank,” I say frankly, “Given the choices, I’d like to order a fifth of Seagram’s 7, but maybe I’ll switch to that orange soda-like vodka concoction after that gentleman in front of me purchased. It comes in a liter?”

“Yea.” The sallow, haggard woman gets it from a very high shelf, it color is distractingly synthetic and it has a cartoonishly evil label. I hand over a twenty dollar bill, as she rings up the bottle as $7.25. A homeless man pushes in front of me.

“And another round for us, too.”

The cashier nods and punches the register. “Okay, that will be $17.50.”

She hands me back a bit of change and a receipt and I leave the counter. I stare at my bill as I walk away. It is just dawning on me that I’ve just paid for this bum’s drinks. I march back to the counter, pushing ahead of the new customers. Politely, though, I press.

“Miss? You charged me for that gentleman’s bottles too. I don’t know him and didn’t expect to treat him.”

“I’ll fix it.”

She turns and continues to take orders from the others in line. She makes no move to do get my proper change. I feel humiliated, but figure, “Forget it. Let the old man have his bottle. He reminds me of my father anyway. Consider it Atonement for one my other sins.” With that, I give up waiting, and head back to the street.

Eight of Wands

Our Rooming House—MORNING

When I come down to the parlor in the morning, Maggie and Sailor Lou are packing for their trip with help from some of the temporary workers we’ve had on crew of late. A cruise to celebrate their nth anniversary.

Maggie is just throwing stuff into a trunk at this point, and Lou yells.

“¡Cuidado! Juan está detrás de la puerta!”

I am surprised that Sailor Lou has picked up that much Spanish from our day workers. As an afterthought, I am then even more surprised I had understood too.

Why he yelled at Maggie in Spanish remains a mystery too.

The Sailor is very excited about the trip though and when he spots me awake and downstairs playfully circles me as if I am a wrestler entering the ring. I do not engage him. But he still runs in and throws me to the carpet, as Maggie walks in. She looks at me helpless under her husband and tsks.

“Frank, are you drinking?”

I cover my mouth and say “No.”

For good measure I hop back up to my room to brush my teeth again. No one needs to know I have hit the sauce now that Andrea has taken off. I go to the sink and turn it on but it is clogged and overflows everywhere.

Back downstairs, the other tenants are starting to emerge in their pajamas to see what the fuss is all about.

“What fun. This is like a pajama party. Just like when we were kids. I wish I had those ones with the feet still,” Maggie beams breathlessly, “I want to be a kid again!”

She has bought inflatable, squeaking costumes and hand them out to the tenants to wear as a lark. There is a blue for the Sailor and yellow for her. The Sailor laughs and jokes with the tenants.

“Are we supposed to be dressed as rockets?” he chuckles pulling on the big inflatable hat.

The old crank from upstairs frowns, as he sticks his own purple tube on his head. “It looks more like we’re a bunch of dildos to me.” We all agree, especially, when I point out, with the cartoon sperm decals lacquered on the back of the crank’s costume.

“No, look at the flag,” Lou insists pointing to the stars and bars on the front of his costume, “I’m an astronaut.”

Nine of Wands [Reversed]

The City—LATE AFTERNOON

I have had my office leave me a car from the motor pool. It is an old Volks Bug, and they have left it for me in the near empty parking lot of my hotel. It is full of equipment and likely to get robbed here. And worse, I cannot get it to turn over. 

Plan B.

I wander the City on foot. I have grown gaunt and pallid with sunken black eyes, but I hide this for now with round, blind man’s spectacles, a long, heavy trench coat and a fedora, as if a vampire in the late afternoon sun.

Truth be told. In loneliness I have begun to wither away, now looking like a cross between a wraith and a scarecrow. White, frail and empty. Andrea is here, in the City, someplace, and I try to avoid the pain of seeing her, though somewhat deviously want her to see me and what I have become.

Though long and willowy, I take tiny, cross-legged steps, arms wrapped around myself. Still, though, I seem to glide across the pavement, though teetering like a tree in the wind, under the heavy weight of my head.

Andrea has seen me wandering the City. And she is sad for me, but blames me for not forcing myself to be happy as she does herself. That is her idea of contentment. Ignoring and avoiding the bad. I’ve at least got the avoidance nearly pat at this point. I just cannot ignore the truth.

I know there is a way to transplant my sad soul into a new more muscled chic body. And I even toy with the idea. The Science must be available. But. There is after all, little of my body left. And also,  I could not bear such a plastic, meaningless façade.

Doesn’t matter right now, of course.

My grim frown turns into a smile when I come across a store announcing, WINES AND LIQUOR in the neighborhood. I turn in.