The day was already setting up to be a right boiler as Vivian swept the hair away from her already damp forehead. It was still early morning but it was already steamy. Vivian moved as quickly as she could down St. Ann’s, dodging the usual garbage and muck that ended up on the sidewalks in New Orleans. Vivian played a game with herself that she called “Homeless or Hipster”. Either one could be the lump passed out on the sidewalk or being shooed out of a business doorway. Vivian loved this city, had even stuck it out during Hurricane Katrina, but she was growing tired of the drunken tourists that plagued the city. Ironic since it was taking advantage of those very same tourists that provided her with a little bit of extra income. Vivian shook her head at herself. She was not taking advantage of them. She told them the truth and the possibilities that may present themselves. It was fortune telling. Vivian, herself, would never throw her money away on such knowledge passed on based on intuition and hunches. A drawing of cards.

Vivian hitched her bag up onto her shoulder as she crossed over into Jackson Square. She could see that her usual spot was empty. Vivian hated it when she had to get into a turf war with some upstart fortune teller. The new ones were the worst, wearing turbans and scarves and arranging crystals around their crystal balls. Amateurs. Vivian fished a key out of her pocket and unlocked the padlock on the chain that secured her table and chairs to the decorative garden gate. Of course, storing things in the gardens of Jackson Square was illegal, but Vivian was neat and camouflaged her things in with the lush greenery that one would have to look really hard to find it. Plus, she had been doing this for years because this is where her mother had stored their things and her mother’s mother. The women in Vivian’s family had been reading the cards for as long as this city was alive. Vivian was not sure if it had been a family intention to become a household of fortune tellers, but here she was, generations later setting up the same table her mother had set up every morning, often with Vivian’s help.

Vivian pulled the table cloth from her bag and spread it over the table. She checked her bag for the tenth time that morning that she had her change bag with her and placed her thermos of coffee on the table. After pouring herself a cup of strong chicory coffee, she pulled her deck of cards from her bag and started to aimlessly shuffle them while she surveyed her surroundings. Charlie, the security guard was shaking his head at some turban, silk robe wearing figure. She must be new and didn’t have a permit. Charlie was chasing her off. Vivian made a note to bring Charlie a good treat for lunch. She looked across the square to see Madame Corinne struggling to set up her table. Madame Corinne was old. No one knew how old the woman was or really anything about her, but she’d been setting up her table across the square from Vivian’s family table well before Vivian’s mother had been born. All kinds of rumors circled around about Madame Corinne. She was a voodoo queen and had sold her soul to the Devil. None of it was true. Madame Corinne was just an old woman who had spent her life telling stories to strangers. Madame Corinne wasn’t even her real name. It was Ruth Fromm.

Vivian grabbed her bag because you never left your bag unattended and ran across the square to help Madame Corinne. Vivian yelled out “Wait, Mrs. Corinne. Let me help you!” and then she took the cumbersome table from the Madame. “Oh Vivie, I don’t know what I’d do if you decided to stop coming to the square so early in the mornings. My grandchildren keep telling me I’m too old to do this and I need to just stop. But they won’t even sit still, let alone pay me, to tell my stories. What I am supposed to do all day? Knit booties?” Madame Corinne laughed which turned into a cough which was normal. The woman smoked like a chimney. She really was a specimen of wonder. Vivian finished setting up the table and chairs. Then she got Madam Corinne settled. “I’ll check on you around lunch time and get your order for the deli.” Vivian said as she patted the old woman’s shoulder. “You take such good care of me. Your mama raised you well. She’d be so proud. Have you read your cards this morning, dear?” This was something Vivian’s mother had started. Every morning she read the cards for herself. She said it prepared her for reading the cards to strangers. Vivian had continued to do this even after mother had passed. “Not yet, Madame Corinne. I’ll do it as soon as I get back to my spot.” With that Vivian made her way back to her own table.

Again, she shuffled the cards. This time she drew three cards and laid them out on the table before her. They were the same three cards she’d drawn for herself yesterday and the day before. She made a face and mumbled “opposites” under her breath. Two of her cards were their reverse meaning. Reverse meanings tended to lean to the negative. She looked at these cards and saw weakness, shallow and selfish behavior. The last card, The Nine of Cups, is the one that threw her. The Nine of Cups represents achievement, completion and self satisfaction. It was a card of well being. Her pick of cards was easy to interpret. So easy that even that turbaned newbie Charlie had shooed away could have given an accurate reading. Vivian needed to stand up for herself. She needed to be strong. She peeked down into her bag and saw the urn that she carried with her every day. Her mother’s ashes. Vivian’s mother had left specific instructions for her ashes and Vivian was still carrying them around with her because she just couldn’t seem to let them go. It was a bit selfish of her, but Vivian wasn’t completely convinced that finishing the task of scattering her mother’s ashes would lead her to sense of well being.

Vivian noticed a few early morning tourists making their way into the square. She placed the cards back into the deck and started shuffling.