Laying the Deck

Like so many people with a gift, one of my earliest experiments was with a deck of Tarot cards. They're easy to come by, easy to learn and very versatile. They're also one of the few forms of divination that recieve some measure of grudging acknowledgement by the world at large, even if it's often limited to people wanting a reading "for the fun of it." It's never just for fun, though, once the cards are spread.

I never remember what I say when I'm reading - I simply fade out, the sound of my own voice and sometimes facial expressions of the subject being the only things that stay with me. In fact, if I can remember too much beyond that I become skeptical of the outcome. If I'm lucky I'll recall a "flavour" of the spread, be it happiness, desperation, horniness or misery.

I went to a masquerade party of Saturday, and the invitation requested that I bring fire-twirling gear, musical instruments, or "any other tricks [I] might have." So I brought my cards, in their little bag that coincidentally matched my costume perfectly. The hostess had been on the recieving end of this particular little talent of mine before, and I think she waited until we were all good and toasted before mentioning it to the other guests.

I think I did something like four readings, perhaps five. I recall the taste of one, a young man who cheerfully listened to a reading the can more or less be summarised as follows:

• Question: Will I get laid?
• Answer: More than likely.

The other three are much more vague. One I was told afterwards outlined a brutal finality, the end of a road. I was also told that the fellow in question had just broken up with his girl, a fact that you'd never have gleaned from how happy he was all night. Another I recall almost reducing a young man to tears, but I don't remember what I said - just the way his face crumpled as I started to speak, and the way he kept taking teeny tiny little sips of his drink all the way through. I would love to know what I said to him.

I don't read too often, because it never feels like a party trick when I'm doing it. But I hate doing "serious" readings too, because it becomes even more of a performance. I certainly would never be comfortable to charge a fee or set an appointment. It seems more natural to do this casually, the same way you read anything else. It chops out that intimate moment just after a reading, when I am myself again, aware of the impact but not aware of what the cards said. It's like a post-coital moment with someone you don't know, still sticky with one another's juices but with no desire to drag the moment out past its lifespan. I never remember, and when I've gather the spread back up, and the subject is still watching me, the music and the drink means we can pretend it's all "a bit of fun" and we can stop waiting for a translation that isn't going to come.