olsen klein (d5) fin

Aunt Phoebe was the lady who dawned all of her pearls and her long fur coat to the grocery store, the one who spoke so softly and kindly to the employees that they nicknamed her 'The Cat Lady', because they never saw her walk in with a partner or any children. She was the type of woman who drank whiskey on the rocks every night with dinner, always leaving red lipstick stains on her glass as she sipped. She always had a candle lit in her stain-glassed windows, our only source of light in our plain kitchen besides the stars illuminating down on us. She never started her day without saying her positive affirmations.

Aunt Phoebe took me in when I was seven years old. I had nothing but a garbage bag containing all of my items when she welcomed me into her home. They took me away because my parents were unfit, my childhood filled with neglect, fuelling myself off of cans of tuna stolen off the grocery store shelf because I didn't know how to cook. Aunt Phoebe told me that my mother was a product of their upbringing, that she was able to break the cycle but like many, my mother couldn't. 

"Olsen," she welcomed me, taking the garbage bags off my hands and ushering me inside, "welcome." I was cold, tired, and skittish, as the remnants of my previous life shattered around me replaced by a home filled with artwork and homemade dessert and life. After allowing me to settle in, she sat me down on her floral velvet couch. My fingers traced the texture of the couch, seven year old Olsen had never sat on a couch that wasn't leather and stained by cigarette burns.

Aunt Phoebe had a deck of cards in her hands, and she shuffled carefully with her eyes closed, her perfectly painted nails sifting through the deck with such grace that I knew this was subconscious to her, like breathing or eating. She placed the deck of cards on the coffee table in front of me, smiling as she did so.

"Olsen, have you ever heard of tarot?"

I shook my head as I eyed the artistic detailing on the back of the cards. The only cards I had familiarized myself with were the hands that my parents played poker with. I could tell her that I knew a royal flush was a 10, king, queen and jack of the same suit, but I had never seen cards with such intricate patterns and art that drew the viewer in so dynamically.

"Tarot tells you whatever you need to hear at this exact moment," she said, as she meticulously fiddled with the card on the top of the deck, "it is the art of intuition and being, it teaches us how to know, how to exist, how to live life to its fullest, how to be in tune with our third eye."

I was confused, but I still watched intently as she flipped the top card of the deck over. The word 'Death' stuck out like a sore thumb amongst an image of the Grim Reaper, a scythe in hand as he outstretched a welcoming hand out to the viewer. Scared, I cowered along the couch, hiding my face as my aunt laughed.

"Death isn't something we should fear," she told me as she sat beside me, caressing my shoulders carefully in an effort to console me, "Death means new beginnings, the entrance into a new cycle of our lives, and the ending of a bad situation. This is a good thing, Olsen." I didn't understand then, but now I do.

The next day, she cooked me eggs and bacon for breakfast. It was the first time I could remember ever eating breakfast.

"Olsen, when is your birthday?"

"August 28th."

"Ah. A Virgo,"

"A Virgo?"

"You are naturally curious. Analytical. Orderly. Energetic,"

I later learned that the stars also play into our fate and our destiny. They influence how we speak, act, feel. They effect our interpersonal relationships, our jobs, our lives. Aunt Phoebe says that because I'm a Virgo, I'll get along with just about anyone fine. But Aunt Phoebe had a Venus in Aries, so she fell out of love just as quick as she fell in love, which is why she stays single. She also says she doesn't have room for a man in her life, that she's perfectly fine with the two of us, that the cards always say to proceed with caution in her romantic relationships.

When I was ten, we went to the Justice Building and found my birth records stating the exact time of day I was born. Aunt Phoebe said it made sense that I was a Cancer moon, that I often put all of my emotional energy into my tasks, that I was caring, loving, the best cat mom to our lovely little Frank, that my emotions were contagious, I was a lost explorer out at sea when I got sad, unable to navigate my emotional energy properly.

What my Aunt did not expect of me was my rising sign in Aries.

But as I grew older and older, she understood. I was impulsive, I leapt through life head first, relying entirely on my intuition and sense of self. I had an intimidating vibe, despite being so careful about how others see me. I was the brave one, the one who confronted the men who catcalled us on the street, the one who sought out exactly what I wanted when I wanted it. But deep down, all I wanted was the validation, the validation I never got when I was younger from my parents, for everyone to tell me that I was doing a fine job and that I didn't need to worry.

We read peoples fortunes together, my Aunt Phoebe and I. People come into our home and we flip each card over, using a combination our intuition and the customer's aura to tell them what they need to hear. It's our livelihood. Some say it's a scam. 

I always tell them that the stars never lie.