“You want to see if a relationship with fireworks and chemistry actually exists.” It was statement rather than a question.
He nodded and looked at me with a straight face. “Yes.”
I got a warm, tingly feeling inside me. Fireworks–check. Chemistry–check. Wanting someone so bad I could hardly breathe–did my heart just skip a beat?
On our way out, we passed by a fortune teller. Ever since I could remember, even when I came here during my college years, the same palm reader sat in the corner near the entrance to the terrace. She charged ten dollars per reading. I’d never had my palm read before.
As we walked past her, she beckoned us to come forward. Ryan and I looked at each other, smiled, and agreed to a reading. I giggled like a teenager. Maybe it was the midday glass of wine, or the appreciation of being in one another’s company, but we were both in a good mood and the idea of getting our fortunes read seemed like a hopeful thing to do.
I sat down first.
The woman in front of me wasn’t dressed like I expected a fortune teller to be dressed. There was no gypsy scarf on her head or jewelry dangling from her wrists or neck. She looked more like a slightly overweight grandmother.
She took my hand in hers and started with her observations. “You are not the creative type, are you? You have more of a good business head.”
I looked up at Ryan, who was curiously observing and chuckled. “Not necessarily a bad thing,” he said.
“See this line here?” the fortune teller continued. “It means you will be very rich someday. It is your good business sense.”
Ryan smirked.
“And here, this means you hold too much tension in your stomach area. You will give yourself an ulcer if you’re not careful. You need to take care of your liver, too.”
“Time to cut down on the liquor, babe.” Ryan lifted his hand in a drinking gesture with the thumb pretending to be the head of a bottle.
He said “babe.” I liked that endearment coming from him, even if his comment was only meant to tease me.
“And this is your love line. Family and love is what keeps you grounded.”
This part of the reading was admittedly where I was most curious.
“You’ve searched for a long time and you’ve had much heartbreak. This is because you love too deeply.” She looked up at Ryan. “Is this your boyfriend?”
“No,” I said too quickly and then blushed. I glanced quickly at Ryan from the corner of eye. He looked impassive, but I thought I saw his jaw twitch.
“Well, that is too bad.” She looked at Ryan. “She is a beautiful woman, is she not?”
“Yes, she is,” he confirmed.
I looked back at the fortune teller and blushed.
“But if he is not your boyfriend, then it is unlucky for him, because you will find a great love in your life.”
Ryan exaggerated being wounded in the heart.
“When?” I asked with piqued curiosity.
“I do not know for certain, but perhaps soon,” I noticed she looked at Ryan when she said it. “Your hand shows that you have been searching and have suffered heartache. But, then, see here where the line grows smooth to the end? You will find a great, deep love for the rest of your life.” She smiled at me and returned my hand.
“Thank you,” I said happily. “Now, that was worth ten dollars.” I looked to Ryan. “Your turn.”
He backed away, laughing, shaking his hand in protest in front of him. “Oh, no you don’t,” he warned. He quickly placed a twenty dollar bill in the woman’s hand, grabbed mine, and scooted us out of there as fast as he could. As he led me to the door, I turned back around to wave goodbye to the fortune teller. I swore I thought I saw her winking at Ryan. At the top of the stairs, we exited the restaurant and headed back out into Post Alley. It was almost three o’clock by the time we left the Pink Door.
He let go of my hand, much to my disappointment. “Do you have time to walk around?”
“Sure. I have a couple hours before I need to head home.”
It was crowded and people were elbow to elbow. We walked through the market vendor stands and by the famous fish-throwing stands. It was always popular with the tourists, but the seafood cost an arm and a leg. The salty smell of fish and ocean lingered in the air. We walked through the cobblestone paths, past the vegetable and fruit stands. Ryan took my hand again and led me through the crowd, down the stairs to the lower market shops. I was almost giddy feeling the warmth of my hand in his bigger one, perfectly content to follow him anywhere.
The next thing I knew, he pulled me into a used bookstore. He said he loved old book stores and could spend hours in one. Why did I find that so freakin’ attractive? It must be the nerd in me. We walked around the store, looking at the titles and displays. He kept hold of my hand while we roamed the bookshelves. There was a distinct musty odor, but not offending; it was that old college library smell I remembered from my days at the UW great library, books and must and mold and pencil shavings.