Fiction: Wishes and Hurricanes
For five dollars, the fortune teller will answer one question. Rose Koa asked if she will see her family again. His reply was, "Follow the black cat with bits of white fur on his nose. He will lead you to what you wish for." The charlatan smelled like he hadn't showered nor combed his wild hair and beard with his black, long-sleeve shirt and pants all wrinkled and even the crystal ball between them on the table was dusty and worn and yet, when he spoke those two sentences, his grey eyes had a strange light in them though the single candle barely lit the incense-smelling tent. She left and didn't think much about it.
The next day, like a sudden mirage, a black cat with bits of white fur on his nose jumped in front of her. Following the cat down a long jogging trail, through a park, down a short trail, a left, down a wide path, another left, Rose entered a graveyard. Her sneakers made no sound on the soft ground. Normally, she would have been wearing heels on Wednesdays but her boss insisted Rose started on her holiday. Rose didn't care - she had no family to visit nor any to visit her. She paused midway to adjust her shoulder bag strap and unzipped her coat. The cold afternoon had turned sunny and warm.
A few distance away, to the right of the grave stones, stood a motel or what looked like one. It was an ordinary two-story house but as wide as a five-story and surrounded by a white fence. In the yard, a wheelbarrow with garden supplies sat among the fresh bearded irises. Through the early December winter wind, the irises' luscious scent drifted toward Rose and made she thought of her grandmother, Iris, who loved to drink root beer.
Rose walked through the open fence door. The house appeared vacant with its dark windows. A black cat was sitting on the porch. This close, Rose could see he looked like their family cat. She had a suspicion it might be the same one. For a long moment, she stood studying the house's faint purple facade, the old-fashioned wooden swing, the neatly painted sign in light purple with 'The Summer Gale Inn' hanging beside the front door with a wreath of dry twigs behind the glass storm door, the small welcome mat below it and the wooden steps leading down. What was eerie was, it looked exactly like the house she grew up in with her family but she knew it couldn't be since that house was ripped away by a hurricane some twenty years ago along with Iris, Rose' parents, Rose' two older sisters and older brother and their cat. The house was found a few miles away and in tatters but no Iris or the rest of Rose's family. Lucky or unlucky, for three days while the hurricane raged, Rose had pneumonia and was in the hospital.
The sound of a speedboat made her turned her head but seeing nothing, she turned back. The cat was gone and the storm door was ajar. A voice called her name. It sounded as if it was coming from within the house. Without hesitation, she went inside.
It was the same as her childhood home but how could that be? It was impossible to find a couch cover with such patterns since her grandmother sew scraps together to hide the stain Rose had made when she spilled cherry juice on it and who still used a wood stove to heat a house?
Meow. The black cat wound around her legs and then settled on the floor by the stove.
"Rose, get yourself into a seat." The woman was carrying a large bowl of salad. Her apron had a purple iris on the pocket area.
"Iris?" Rose was sure this was her grandmother and yet, how could she look exactly the same as twenty years ago? Iris had been over fifty and her skin was smooth with her hair, half blonde and half gray in a bun.
"Rose, what are you waiting for? Sit down." Iris walked toward the dinning area and set the bowl on the long table covered with plates of food. Already seated were Rose's parents Emma and Norman, her two sisters, Molly and Polly, her brother, Thomas. Rose went and sat beside Thomas. As they all chowed down on roasted turkey, mashed potatoes and various entree and desserts, Rose couldn't help grinning at everyone. If she was dreaming, she didn't care to wake up.
Before long, everyone was bidding Rose farewell with hugs and kisses and Iris was leading Rose outside the house.
"Maybe I could come back next week? Or maybe I could stay with you," said Rose not caring she had a job, a home and people who counted on her.
"Oh dear, I'm afraid you cannot stay. You see, I'm not certain how we are even here. I know we are all dead. I know it's harsh but that's the truth. I see you, Rose, and you are not the child you had been - time had moved on and we in the house had not. But this time we have, this last holiday together, is a miracle. Don't ask for more, my dear." Iris kissed Rose' cheek. Her touch was warm and soft.
"I know. I just—" Rose wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She was a grown woman, she shouldn't be crying like a child.
"Run along, dear. You must go all the way outside the gate." Iris smiled.
It had gotten dark and the porch lights were on. Rose walked down and along the short path. When she was outside the gate, she turned around. Her parents, siblings and Iris were waving at her. Under the light, they appeared like a still painting, still wet and unfinished.
Rose waved back, glancing each one in turn. Moved by the wind, leaves and debris began to swirl around the six figures and the house. The stronger and faster the wind rotated, the larger the swirl until it flew into the air and vanished. The house and yard was replaced by a field of smooth ground littered with dried leaves lit by post lights.
Rose stood, still looking, hoping they would come back. The night air flitted around her but she was still warm and full. Her parents, sisters, brother and grandmother - she had seen them, touched them and spoke with them. Her wish had come true. She must not be too greedy. With one more quick look around, she turned and started for home. Dots of snow began to fall.
Meow. She looked down. The black cat with the white fur on his nose was walking beside her. When she turned, he turned, when she paused, he paused. After a while, she picked him up. If she was to keep him, she will call him as she used to call their family cat, Hurricane. She smiled, recalling her family and their bright faces.
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