The Last Reading

Marina's palm trembled in the old woman's grip. The line between her thumb and forefinger—what Madame Zora called the life line—seemed shallower than it had three years ago, when David had dragged her to this same boardwalk booth on their honeymoon.

"You're carrying something," the woman said, her voice like gravel in water. "Not a child. A weight."

Marina glanced through the booth's plastic flap at David, who stood by the railing watching the ocean. He'd insisted they come back to Santa Monica to celebrate their anniversary, even though she'd wanted to stay home and rest. Even though she'd found the text messages on his phone two weeks ago and hadn't found the courage to confront him.

"The bull," the woman continued, tracing Marina's palm with a nicotine-stained finger. "You see how the head line splits? You're torn between two paths. One charges forward like a bull in a china shop. The other... waits."

Behind them, a scrawny cat leaped onto the counter, knocking over a jar of incense sticks. The woman shooed it away without breaking her concentration. Marina watched the cat vanish beneath the boardwalk, orange afternoon light glinting off its collar.

"He's going to ask you something tonight," the woman said. "The answer will change everything."

"What answer?" Marina whispered, though she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"That's for you to decide." The old woman released Marina's hand. "Forty dollars."

Marina paid and stepped outside. David was still at the railing, his profile against the darkening Pacific. She thought about the life line, shallow or not. About the bullshit she'd been swallowing for months. About the promotion waiting for her in Chicago—the job David had asked her not to take because it would mean moving.

"You ready?" he called. "Dinner reservation at seven."

Marina touched her palm where the woman's finger had traced. The ocean roared behind her, indifferent and vast. She thought of the cat, limping into the shadows, choosing its own way.

"Actually," she said, walking toward him. "I think I'd like to talk about Chicago."