As an evolving writer who’s interested in the Tarot, I decided to explore the darker side of the energies of the Major Arcana cards of the Tarot.
As you may know, I’ve been writing the light, or erotic, side, but since every card has a light and a dark, it seemed only natural to add a little darkness to my stories.
January’s card is Temperance. Temperance is a card of blending energies, balance, and moderation. The darker side of the energies show a time when things are out of balance in your life, or there are competing interests in a relationship. In my story, I write about just that.
Our protagonist, Patrik, is in a relationship where his interests are in direct conflict with another. These unresolved conflicts have yet to be clearly expressed, and it’s only when Patrik is finally confronted with the darkness that he realizes just how deep this conflict is.
Please enjoy this opening snippet to the shadow side of Temperance.
No one could’ve known what would happen, but someone should have. The lake water was cool, but not cold as I held her shoulders under the water. I had asked mom if people could breathe underwater like fish. She said, “No, because we don’t have gills.” So I made sure to give her gills first, before holding her down. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth opened and closed like the fish’s do. The rosy color of her dress paled under the red-tinged water. She didn’t struggle. Not really. I wondered at first if that was because she was breathing underwater, and then I noticed everyone shouting about “the baby.” So maybe it was because she was only three.
***
The smell of coffee wakes me from another bizarre dream. I open my eyes to my childhood room, stretch and remember again the way the sunlight peaks through the curtains.
“And the weird dreams return, just like that.”
A child’s laughter drifts up the stairs as another wave of coffee sits me up in my bed.
“Who? That’s strange. I don’t remember making coffee.”
Mom and I are, or should be, the only ones here. I slide my feet into my slippers and head down the stairs. There it is. A full pot of coffee steams happily on the counter.
“Huh. Maybe mom did it?”
I pour myself a cup of the coffee and take a deep sniff.
“Ew. Hazelnut.” I reach over for the sugar container and pour it into the cup while stirring, then take a sip. My throat instantly closes, and I spit it into the sink.
“Salt?”
I pick up the sugar container and inspect it. Pouring a little into my palm, I taste and the slightly bitter taste confirms my suspicions. I pour the salty mug into the sink and rinse my cup.
“Your dad and your brother always liked hazelnut coffee.”
Mom comes into the kitchen, still in her robe.
“They were so much alike in so many ways. David always insisted on giving the first cup to your dad. That was probably the only nice thing about him… Oh, I didn’t mean that. Your brother was, um, he was a challenging boy. Just willful and… different is what I meant. He was wired differently than other children.”
I pour another cup and take a sip of the hazelnut coffee, trying to remember my brother, but I can’t. I only remember pictures I’ve seen of him.
“Different? What do you mean?”
Mom opens the cupboard and smiles weakly, caressing dad’s favorite cup.
“Well, one time I asked him to bring me a cup of coffee too. He scowled at me, but after I asked again he reluctantly brought me one. I thought he’d changed his mind and was happy, because he was smiling.
She grabs a different cup out of the cupboard, closes it, and rests her palm on the closed door.
“But he was smiling because he’d changed out the sugar shaker and put salt in it.”
Mom pours herself a cup of coffee, picks it up, and closes her eyes as she smells it.
“That was the last time I asked him, but David always brought your dad his cup of coffee first thing without ever being asked.”
“Um yeah, about that. Apparently our last tenants had the same sense of humor. The sugar shaker is full of salt.”
She opens her eyes and looks at me, watching in silence, then sighs. “Is it? I wondered after smelling the hazelnut. Always smells a little like feet, but it brings back so many memories.”
She takes a sip and sets her cup down. “Did you make the coffee, Patrik?”
“Nope, at least not that I remember. I fell asleep on the couch last night reading and don’t remember going to bed. Maybe I did it out of habit on my way up?” I turn and open the fridge freezer looking for the coffee. “Figured either that or you did, but hazelnut?”
I pull the bag out of the freezer. “Oh, well, will you look at that. Vanilla hazelnut, huh. Must’ve grabbed the wrong bag at the store.” I put the bag back in the freezer.
“I bet you were sleep walking again. Toward the end of your father’s illness you’d get up early, make him coffee and go back to bed. He’d get up and there’d be his cup sitting right there next to the coffee pot. He’d ask you about it, but you never remembered doing it.”
“Come on mom, let’s head outside. It looks like a nice day out there.”
I head down the hallway toward the front porch. As I walk, I look at the collection of family pictures on the wall. I see mom and dad with David, his black chunky glasses reflecting the sun. They look pretty happy. There’s one with dad, David, and my sister, Billie, as an infant in mom’s arms. They’re standing on the front porch, but David’s the only one smiling. There’s a picture of Billie at about two or three years old in the bathtub with a bubble beard. A pink princess dress has been folded neatly and set carefully on the back shelf of the tub. David is sitting on the edge, and they’re both smiling at the camera. I guess that’d make him about eight, and probably not long before they both died.
There are pictures of me, but mom and dad look much older, more tired. To an outsider, it probably looks like their smiles are forced, but anyone who knows us knows that’s how mom’s always smiled at me.
I had a great time writing this scene, hoping to evoke a sense of “not quite right” in my readers. It’s been fun to explore the dark side of this energy, and I’m looking forward to writing more unease as the story progresses!
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