The Fortune Teller (One Direction)

Chapter 14 - The Truth At Last

“Vita? Vita!” I scream at the door. I bang my knuckles against the glass twenty times a second, knowing she’s only lurking behind that stupid purple curtain.

Impatience had, since the accident, become my best friend. Weeks, I was stuck in that bed, when I have been perfectly fine for 90% of the time spent there. It was my mum and granddad that insisted I stay there, just to make sure.

“But mija, you are still not well!” my mum had said soothingly, her voice playing with my mind. Spaniards always had a way with words, but not by what they said, how they said it. My mum’s voice sounded sad and upset even more now.

“Your mama is right, nieta.” My abuelo cut in. His accent obviously had nothing to do with his sad tone. Since the death of my abuela last year, he has been so upset. Mama spent most of her free time with him, dragging David and my dad along too, occasionally.

“Vita!” I yell again. I see the curtains flutter slightly, and the door swings open instantly.

“Issa! So lovely for you to drop by.” she rasps. I follow her as she turns from me and disappears behind the curtain and into the back room. The table and chairs are the same, but now there are no tarot cards lying all over the place. This makes me perk up a bit.

“How are you feeling, Issa?” she asks me as she sits in her seat, allowing me to sit opposite her. “I heard about your little accident.”

“I guessed you’d hear about that,” I mumble, “I’m fine thanks, it’s just…just…” She tilts her head as I struggle to get my words out, stretching her neck as if that would make this experience a little less peculiar.

I sigh, “Look, I need two answers, to two questions. No messing around, just tell me straight. Can you do that?”

Leaning back in her chair, quickly glancing at the seat beside her, she says reluctantly, “I suppose.”

“Good.” I say before rambling off into my first question, “I know you’re the patron saint of live and love or whatever the heck it is-” she raises her eyebrows at my choice of words, “-so help me out. What should I do about Harry?” I expect her to know everything already; so don’t expand on the details.

After an antagonising year of contemplating in her mind the thousands of possibilities, Miss Vita comes out with the amazing…“What do you think you should do?” …Maybe I should get a new psychic?

“If I had any ideas, I wouldn’t be here.” I tell her straight.

“Remember the card I gave to you?” How could I forget? I nod at her, and typically I see her pull the card itself from beneath her shawl and drop it to the table.

“Tell me what you see.”

I glance at the card and contemplate telling her exactly what I see - a scruffily drawn cartoon a toddler could have drawn. I force myself to look closer, however, and I see something completely different.

The boy on the card has brown hair, arranged in angelic curls, and his blue eyes gaze adoringly at the girl opposite him. She’s got the same dark brown hair, and she’s smiling up at the boy, their blue eyes meeting. After a few seconds an image pops into my head – when I went shopping in Manchester weeks ago, Harry and I passed an abandoned shop’s window. We stopped beside it and we gazed at our reflection, the whole time I was getting lost in Harry’s gorgeous blue eyes. I smile at the memory, imagining him being with me right now.

“Happiness.” I reply Vita, smiling. 

“Well done.” she whispers, “The Sun card represents happiness, joy, love,” she recites. “This Tarot deck shows the pair on the card as almost identical, equal – a perfect match. Remind you of anyone?” she inquires.

“…Me and Harry?” I say hopefully after a minute.

“If you want it that way, yes. In terms of what you should do…I think you should do whatever it takes. Anything and everything.”

Well that was a lot of help. I suppose I won’t get anything else out of her though. She continues, “Am I correct in assuming you had another question?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I say casually, scratching my head as I still contemplate what to do about Harry. Leaning forward across the desk I demand, “How do you know my name? I never introduced myself, you just…knew my name.”

She smirks now and shuffles a little in her chair, “What do your friends call you?”

“Issy, or Iss.” I reply.

“I call you Issa. Who else has ever used that name?” she asks, leaning forward with amusement.

I almost choke when she asks me this, confusion flooding my mind. Swallowing hard, I blink back tears and answer, “My abuela.” Early last year, my wonderful grandmother passed away. She had been ill for so long, I couldn’t stand to see her suffering. The amazing thing is, whenever I saw her, she was smiling so much it stopped me from crying. There’s nothing stopping the tears falling down my face, now, though.

Vita interrupts my sobbing with a sigh, “Amora was a friend of mine. Such a tragedy when she passed away not long ago…” she says as she pulls a packet of tissues from behind a vase. “However,” she continues, “I have not lost contact.”

At this, I look up.

I swear this woman is crazy.

“…How?” I croak.

“Life and Love…Life and Death.” She shrugs, as if it’s obvious. I was about to ask her another question, but I spy the spare chair beside Vita’s that she had been gazing at. Thinking about it, she regularly glanced at that chair…

“She always liked to call herself your guardian angel, Isabella Amora.” Vita says, making it obvious that she is now looking at the chair, “It was Amora that guided you to happiness. You think it was luck that got you to visit London, find an old friend, and meet the boy of your dreams?” she asks, but I’m speechless, “No, not luck, but love.”

I manage to stop the tears and speak, “So…my abuela is…there?” I ask, pointing at the chair.

“Not exactly. Her presence is…but it was simply following you. She’s always there.” Vita smiles.

So it was my abuela who did all this for me? I had thought it strange how dad had let me miss that valuable week of revision, and how I unexpectedly met Fliss in town after so long, and how she just so happened to be cousins with a member of One Direction…

I have an idea. Anything and everything, right?

I’m about to tell Vita I have to go, but she launches into speech before I get the chance, “Issa, this is the last time you’ll visit me. I think. I wish you all the best, but I know with your guardian angel, you’ve got all the help you’ll need.” She smiles at me, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. I smile back, for the first time not seeing some batty old psychic, but…a friend.

“Off you go,” she prompts, “I believe you have many things to sort out!” she practically pushes me out of the door, like routine, and I’m once again on the cobbled streets of the marketplace, whispering ‘Thank you’ to the air, knowing she’ll hear it.