but as palpable as the fresh gold paint on the tea shop’s lettering above my head.
“She’ll probably still visit. You haven’t lost her.”
“It’s not the same.” Ma sighed. “All we care about is that she’s happy. Then it wouldn’t be so bad that she’s so far away. Do you know if she is?”
I peeked through the glass windows. Aunt Evelyn had moved on to setting a tea service display for samples. Her movements showcased a ballerina-like elegance I could never possess.
“I think she is. I haven’t seen any indication otherwise.”
“I better let you go. It’s your first day of lessons. Listen to your auntie and try not to argue with her. I love you and I’ll call you soon.”
“I love you, too, Ma. Send Dad my love.”
I tucked the phone into my pocket and went back inside the tea shop.
Aunt Evelyn gestured toward the tea service on the glass counter. “You’ll be offering honeyed chrysanthemum tea for sampling today.” She placed a notecard on the counter and tapped it. “It’s all here in French so you don’t need to explain.”
I swallowed, and took my place behind the counter. “I’m not expected to make small talk, right? Only compel predictions and empty the surplus.”
“Correct.” She walked to the glass door and flipped the sign. “We have work to do.”
Nineteen
A fashionable couple in their late forties came into the shop. She had copper skin and wore an ivory sweater and dark, tailored pants. Her dark hair was swept up in a colorful scarf, which complemented her gold hoop earrings and bright red clutch. Her partner sported a sharp navy suit, horn-rimmed glasses, and a trimmed beard.
I envied their easy elegance. I agonized over what to wear, but never felt my choice matched my vision. It was the same frustration I carried when I couldn’t translate my ideas to paper. My ambition never quite matched the execution.
Like the couple, my aunt’s sense of style appeared effortless. Aunt Evelyn had decided today’s dress code: lavender blouse paired with a sage-green pencil skirt. It wasn’t something I’d pick out. I tended to stay away from greens, fearing it would malign my complexion. The key was saturation: the brightness and depth of the two colors complemented my skin. The combination was beautiful and striking, and matched the overall aesthetic of the tea shop.
The pair and my aunt spoke rapid French and exchanged smiles. While my aunt offered the lady samples from three glass jars behind the counter, he walked toward me and gestured to the tea. I poured him a cup, shook my head, and pointed to the sign to indicate that I didn’t speak the language.
Before he took a sip, he thanked me in accented English.
He knew English.
My heartbeat galloped against my rib cage.
I was about to assault this poor gentleman with advice I had no desire to dispense. The need to run back to the apartment and lock the door behind me took hold. From across the shop, Aunt Evelyn leveled a steady glare in my direction. Her sixth sense was equal parts unnerving and aggravating. Like an elementary school teacher writing on the chalkboard, she had eyes at the back of her head. Punished for my perceived transgression before I had a chance to conceive it.
He finished the tea and returned the teacup to the art nouveau–style silver tray. Three stray droplets clung to the bottom. They were enough. Taking a deep breath, I grasped the edge of the counter to steady myself. My stomach churned as though trapped in one of those centrifugal carnival rides.
My cousin Chester tried to force a prediction once. He was rewarded with a surprise tackle from a runaway Pyrenees that had escaped its leash. The timing was no coincidence. I had witnessed what happened to anyone who forced a prediction. I’d never been foolish enough to attempt it for myself, yet my aunt had reassured me.
I needed to trust her.
The prophecy coalesced as the taste of tangy Sinigang, a Filipino tamarind-based broth, sang on my tongue. “In the grip of a wintry spring, your father will wander the streets of Zurich. Pneumonia will claim him.”
Tears gathered at the corner of my eyes as I let out a sob. He froze, and looked down, avoiding my eyes.
My aunt came over and spoke in a gentle tone. Though I could not understand the words, I knew she was offering him comfort and guidance. The lady held him in her arms and escorted him from the shop.
A dull ache radiated