The Palm Reader's Bull Market

The palm reader's shack was tucked behind a RadioShack in a strip mall that time forgot. Elena had driven past it a hundred times on her way to the cable company where she processed billing disputes for people who couldn't afford their entertainment. Today, with her separation papers fresh in her purse, she parked.

The old woman didn't ask her name. She took Elena's hand, traced the life line with a yellowed fingernail. "You're waiting for something that's not coming."

Elena pulled her hand back. "That's what everyone says."

"Because it's true." The woman lit a cigarette with a shaking hand. "The baseball game's been over for twenty years, honey. You're still standing at home plate wondering why the pitcher isn't throwing."

The image hit Elena like a physical blow. David—her soon-to-be-ex-husband—had left her six months ago for a twenty-something analyst from his firm. A bull of a man, aggressive and uncomplicated, the kind who'd always swung for the fences and actually connected. Elena had spent two decades waiting for him to grow up, to notice her sacrifices, to finally see her.

"My mother—" Elena started.

"Your mother's dead. You're still alive. There's a difference." The woman coughed, a wet, rattling sound. "You want to know what I see? I see a woman who's been paying the cable bill for a house that's been empty for years. Figuratively speaking."

Elena walked out into the blinding afternoon sun. The radio in her car was tuned to some financial station where men shouted about bull markets and bear markets, making fortunes and losing them in the time it took her to drive home. She turned it off and sat in the silence.

Her phone litened with a text from David: *Can we talk about the house?*

Elena watched a group of teenagers play baseball in the park across the street. They shouted and laughed, lived inside the game, heads thrown back to catch fly balls against an endless sky. She rolled down her window and the smell of cut grass washed over her—something real, something present, something that had nothing to do with waiting.

She didn't text David back. Instead, she called her boss and quit. Then she called her sister and asked if she could visit for a while. The palm reader was wrong about one thing: Elena wasn't still standing at home plate. She was finally walking off the field.