she let him cut them and she laid them down, her beautiful cards as limp and greasy as her baby's oilcloth picture books. She chose the simplest formation she knew. She pointed out the meaning while he hung over the table, not breathing: a happy journey, reunion with a friend, a pleasant surprise, and no possibility of money.
"Aha," he said, and she raised her face. "So it's lucky I ran into you.
No money!"
"Mr.-"
"Divich. Just call me Alonzo."
"Alonzo, is the money all you're going for?"
"Well, but-"
"Go anyway! Go on! Don't just sit around hemming and hawing!"
Then she slapped his money back on his palm, for lack of any better way to show how she felt. And she gathered up her cards without looking at him even though he sat there a minute longer, waiting.
It was four years before she saw Alonzo again. On Independence Day, 1960, she set up a booth at a picnic in Wamburton, Maryland. Nobody there seemed much interested in the future. Finally she repacked her cards and took a walk toward the courthouse, where rides were spinning and balloons were sailing and the merry-go-round was playing "The St. James Infirmary Blues," sending out little shimmering catgut strings that drew her in.
She started toward the wooden horses. And there beside the tallest horse was-why, Alonzo Divich!-wiping his face on a red bandanna and quarreling with a mechanic. Only when she came up he turned and stopped in mid-sentence and stared. "You!" he said. He ringed her wrist with his hand and pulled her away, toward a bench where the music was not so loud. She came, holding onto her hat. "Do you know how long I worked to find you?"
he shouted.
"Who, me?"
"How often do you move? Are you some sort of forty-miler all your own?
First I asked at the church, who was the fortune teller? 'Oh, Justine,' they said. Everyone knew you, but they didn't know where you lived. And by the time I found that out you had moved but left no forwarding address. Why? Did you owe money? Never mind. I haunted all your ladyfriends, I hoped you were a letter writer. But you are not. Then at the tobacconist's where your husband used to work they said-"
"But what did you want me for?" Justine asked.
"To tell my fortune, of course."
"I told your fortune."
"Yes, back in nineteen fifty-six. Do you think my life is so steady? Now that reading has no bearing at all."
"Oh. Well, no," said Justine, who saw that with him, that would certainly be true. She reached into her bag-at that time a leather pouch gouged by her neighbor's puppy-and pulled out the cards. "And you didn't go look for gold," she said.
"You do read the past!"
"Don't be silly. Here you are in Maryland; it's obvious to anyone."
"I didn't, no. I thought about it. Instinct said to follow your advice, but I held back. You know the rest."
"No."
"Yes, you do. I married the widow," he said, "who turned out to be a disappointment. She had no money after all, the kid got on her nerves, what she had wanted all along was to start us a troupe of belly dancers with her as the star. Belly dancers, when half the towns make our game girls wear sweatshirts! I said absolutely not. She left me. I haven't heard from my friend in Michigan but I expect he has a whole sack of gold nuggets by now and meanwhile here I sit, where I was to begin with, only I happen to be married again-oh, you were right! If I had listened to you, think where I might be today!"
"Cut the cards," Justine told him.
"My new wife is pregnant and I have too many kids already," said Alonzo.
"She is morning-sick, afternoon-sick, and evening-sick. When I walk into the trailer she throws fruits and vegetables at me. I don't think we are getting along at all. However, that's not my problem, no . . ."
But what his problem had been Justine couldn't even remember now. There were so many
"Aha," he said, and she raised her face. "So it's lucky I ran into you.
No money!"
"Mr.-"
"Divich. Just call me Alonzo."
"Alonzo, is the money all you're going for?"
"Well, but-"
"Go anyway! Go on! Don't just sit around hemming and hawing!"
Then she slapped his money back on his palm, for lack of any better way to show how she felt. And she gathered up her cards without looking at him even though he sat there a minute longer, waiting.
It was four years before she saw Alonzo again. On Independence Day, 1960, she set up a booth at a picnic in Wamburton, Maryland. Nobody there seemed much interested in the future. Finally she repacked her cards and took a walk toward the courthouse, where rides were spinning and balloons were sailing and the merry-go-round was playing "The St. James Infirmary Blues," sending out little shimmering catgut strings that drew her in.
She started toward the wooden horses. And there beside the tallest horse was-why, Alonzo Divich!-wiping his face on a red bandanna and quarreling with a mechanic. Only when she came up he turned and stopped in mid-sentence and stared. "You!" he said. He ringed her wrist with his hand and pulled her away, toward a bench where the music was not so loud. She came, holding onto her hat. "Do you know how long I worked to find you?"
he shouted.
"Who, me?"
"How often do you move? Are you some sort of forty-miler all your own?
First I asked at the church, who was the fortune teller? 'Oh, Justine,' they said. Everyone knew you, but they didn't know where you lived. And by the time I found that out you had moved but left no forwarding address. Why? Did you owe money? Never mind. I haunted all your ladyfriends, I hoped you were a letter writer. But you are not. Then at the tobacconist's where your husband used to work they said-"
"But what did you want me for?" Justine asked.
"To tell my fortune, of course."
"I told your fortune."
"Yes, back in nineteen fifty-six. Do you think my life is so steady? Now that reading has no bearing at all."
"Oh. Well, no," said Justine, who saw that with him, that would certainly be true. She reached into her bag-at that time a leather pouch gouged by her neighbor's puppy-and pulled out the cards. "And you didn't go look for gold," she said.
"You do read the past!"
"Don't be silly. Here you are in Maryland; it's obvious to anyone."
"I didn't, no. I thought about it. Instinct said to follow your advice, but I held back. You know the rest."
"No."
"Yes, you do. I married the widow," he said, "who turned out to be a disappointment. She had no money after all, the kid got on her nerves, what she had wanted all along was to start us a troupe of belly dancers with her as the star. Belly dancers, when half the towns make our game girls wear sweatshirts! I said absolutely not. She left me. I haven't heard from my friend in Michigan but I expect he has a whole sack of gold nuggets by now and meanwhile here I sit, where I was to begin with, only I happen to be married again-oh, you were right! If I had listened to you, think where I might be today!"
"Cut the cards," Justine told him.
"My new wife is pregnant and I have too many kids already," said Alonzo.
"She is morning-sick, afternoon-sick, and evening-sick. When I walk into the trailer she throws fruits and vegetables at me. I don't think we are getting along at all. However, that's not my problem, no . . ."
But what his problem had been Justine couldn't even remember now. There were so many
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