“Smile, Dylan!” ordered the photographer as Jamie pulled me closer to her. We froze in our best we’re-a-happy-family-yay-sisters-for-life pose as we got our pictures taken for our Marvil for Oscar line. I was wearing a flared lace dress, while Ryan was delicately wrapped in silks. Jamie was on the other side of me, wearing the most intricate jacquard ensemble. Normally, I would drool over the designer’s exquisite taste and unbelievable talent. I would awe over the surrealness of the moment and lick my lips at the sight of the buffet table, praying that I didn’t smear my professionally applied lipstick.
But I wasn’t. The moment just didn’t feel real without my mum’s constant nagging. Without her hovering over the campaign team, constantly fixing her posture and reminding us to suck in our tummies. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t imagined what a photo shoot without her would be like, but never in all of my late night thoughts had it been because she was hospitalised. It was always because she trusted us enough to let go for a few hours. Or that she was too busy. Maybe even because her life had gotten too fabulous. But never, never because she was too sick. It wasn’t what the green smoothie jugging monster, the gym session champion Mum would do.
Earlier on the day, my sisters and I went through our normal pre-shoot ritual. Secrets that have been passed down to us by our mother. Detox water, high end moisturisers and a concoction of organic oils. And a few other stuff that didn’t seem right without her.
My spine jolted, finally extending to its full ladylike posture. Officially awakened from my trance, I stuck out one of my oil-slicked legs and put on the widest smile Mum could wish for.
In times when the future is unpredictable and the present is unclear, there’s only one person you can turn to.
“Hermia!” I called urgently.
A woman in a tie dyed skirt and a black and white kimono emerged from the Moroccan-inspired, throw-filled area. “Who is i– oh, Dylan, dear! Have a seat.”
I crossed my legs and sat on the cushion tucked under the decoratively carved wooden table.
“What do you come seeking today?” Hermia asked as she sat on the the other side of the table on a tasselled cushion.
You’re psychic, shouldn’t you know? I thought for a second. But I knew better than to question Hermia’s powers. Every prediction of hers has come true. There would be no Pretty Committee without her. My mum wouldn’t have a career. Jamie would still have her old nose.
“You seem distressed,” she said, her speckled eyes looking into mine.
I nodded weakly. “I’d like a reading.”
Hermia’s ring covered hand pushed a tea cup towards me, making the quietest scratch as it moved across the table.
I lifted the tea cup, inhaling its herbal aroma, drinking it quickly, desperate for answers.
“Think of the mysteries you want unveiled as you’re drinking,” Hermia said calmly.
I shut my eyes, thinking hard abut all my questions and sipped the remaining drops of tea. I set the cup down, clacking discretely as it touched the carvings on the tabletop.
“Now spin it around three times.”
I turned the cup around and around slowly, suddenly afraid of the answers I might get.
As soon as I was done, Hermia pulled out a saucer and carefully dumped the remaining liquid by turning the cup over. The green droplets trickled onto the swirl-covered saucer. Hermia turned the cup over again and began reading the tea leaves.
“Hmm…” she hummed as she turned the cup a few degrees up.
A sudden rush of ice tickled my feet. I didn’t know if I could handle what I might see once the veil comes off those mysteries.
“A woman in your life seems to be sickly.” She continued to tell me her predictions as she saw them unfolding. “She is surrounded by the cunning fox and the dangerous ice berg.”
“I see a rainbow. Your wish will soon come true.”
So… she will get better?
“Interesting… I see two dogs: one of them is a good friend, and the other is an untrustworthy one. Both will show their true colours at times where drops, most likely tears, appear.”
What? An untrustworthy friend? Tears? Why?
“The barking dog, who is the untrustworthy friend is holding a gun. A symbol for danger. The gun seems to be pointing at a purse.” Hermia twirled the cup in the palm of her hands. “The friend will turn out to be your enemy. His or her gun is pointing at the purse–money.”
Someone envious of my life? What else is new?
“There is a tornado approaching. Prepare for turbulent weather. As for you, I see a diamond in your near future: a gift coming your way.”
“What else do you see?” I asked, eager for some more good news.
“Your path is filled with hills, but the horseshoe will bring you good luck.”
Yes, yes! Good luck!
“I also see a needle, a sign of painful repairs, injecting itself into the ‘J’.”
“You, however, are taking flight with your new wings. Do not limit yourself to just the ground.”
“And….” Hermia suddenly paused.
“What is it?” I asked worriedly. “What do you see?”
“I see a wolf.”
“It means you will be betrayed by someone.”
So here I am, overanalysing each of Hermia’s predictions. What could they possibly mean?
Hello, everyone! I know, I know, I haven’t posted in a while. I’m so, so, so sorry! I’ve been in and out of the hospital for weeks, and once I was out, a few of my friends & family were hospitalised. Thankfully, we are all feeling better now. However, *looks at the remaining green tea leaves in my cup* I see myself paying another visit to the hospital soon.
What do you guys think of the makeover? I don’t really know how I feel about it. I’m not completely pleased with it, if at all. I fee like I can’t do anything right anymore. I might be able to give it a better makeover. fokgskfgj I can do better than this so why am I not? Let me know if you think I should give it another go in the commenty thingy.
Also, what did you think of this post? I really wanted to write about Hermia for a while…. so I did! What do you think her predictions mean? Who or what are the wolf and dogs?