Oct: The Road I Took
I stepped into the darkness of the tent, vaguely irritated by the theatrics. I could smell warm, damp earth and a sweeter scent – maybe incense, maybe a woman’s perfume.
From the depths of the tent, I heard a voice, and was annoyed when it made me jump.
“You’re not too late.”
“Yeah, I know. It said you’re open for another hour yet.”
There was a muffled laugh.
“No, I meant you’re not too late to tell him what you want to say.”
I paused, confused, and a woman of about my own age appeared from the shadows, her long hair falling across her face and half-covering her smile that seemed almost sinister in the shadows.
“Sorry about that,” she said in a soft Irish accent. “I was just changing the lightbulb,” and she snapped on a bright electric light that bathed the small tent in a cool, blue light, accentuating the gaudy colours of a hundred silk scarves hung from every possible place.
In the center of the tent was a small table covered by yet another scarf.
“Please, sit,” said the woman, waving her hand at a wooden stall tucked under the table. “I’m xx, but everyone calls me Gypsy.”
She smiled again, and this time her smile wasn’t at all sinister. I realised that she was beautiful.
“It’s nice to meet you, Kerry. How can I help you? I mean, other than saying that you’re not too late.”
“Who told you my name?” I asked suspiciously.
She cocked her head on one side.
“To be honest, I don’t really know. The gift has been in my family for generations, but I can’t tell you how it works. It’s like … scrolling through your phone and some words and phrases just sort of pop out, you know? Sometimes it’s memories – other people’s memories, and sometimes strong emotions come through.” She smiled at my skeptical expression. “Like you – you’re filled with doubt.”
“I don’t really believe in all this … stuff,” I said. “I’m not trying to be rude because you actually seem really nice.”
She shrugged. “That’s okay. At least you’re honest about it. Now, about why you’re here.”
I laughed uncomfortably. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I’m sorry, I’m probably wasting your time.”
She pulled out a stool opposite me. “Nah, you’re not wasting my time – things were kind of slow anyway. Would you like a cup of tea? I was just about to have one. Or a coffee, seeing as you’re not from the Auld Country. Cream and one sugar, right?”
I drew in a sharp breath. How did she know? Then I figured that most people took their coffee like that.
“Uh yeah, thanks. That would be kinda great.”
“I have biscuits, too. Ya know, cookies. Chocolate chip.”
My stomach growled and she winked at me. “Your stomach says yes.”
She hummed a strange, haunting melody as she bustled around the small space pulling out a kettle that she plugged into a socket hanging from a generator. Health & Safety would have a field day if they saw this place. Still, if I died from an electric shock, at least all my problems would be over.
“Don’t even think like that!” Gypsy said suddenly, turning to glare at me.
It was kind of spooky. Were my thoughts really not private?
“Look,” she said, her voice gentling. “I know you don’t ‘believe’,” and she wiggled her fingers in the air, “but maybe just try telling me about it – just a neutral listener. Might help.”
“Okay, fine,” I sighed. “Should I cross your palm with silver or something?”
She giggled. “If you like, but I take credit cards.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
She pushed a mug of coffee across the table towards me.
“So,” she said, “this guy who’s got you tied up in knots … Jake?”
“His name is Jase.”
“Ah okay. I think I saw it written down.” She smiled at me over a cup of tea. “You have terrible handwriting.”
“I know,” I laughed, then realized what she’d said, although I’m not sure she did because she motioned me to go on.
“Jase was my high school sweetheart.” My lip trembled as I remembered the last time we’d spoken … or rather yelled at each other. “He’s a musician – he’s trying to be. God, he’s so talented! If anyone can make it, he can. He’s got a voice that just moves people. It’s not even a great voice, it’s kind of rough and growly like he’s a heavy smoker or something, but he isn’t. He just connects with people, you know?”
She nodded, her eyes crinkling slightly at the edges, and I realized that she was a little older than I’d originally thought, maybe seven or eight years older than my 19.
“So, the thing is, he left town to try and make it in Nashville and … and he asked me to go with him.”
I looked down at the table, realizing that the bump in the middle was a scarf draped over a crystal ball, and I felt so stupid. Gypsy might seem nice, but she was really just a con artist with a slightly better act.
“You know, that’s pretty judgmental,” she said mildly, raising one eyebrow.
Shit! She really could read my mind!
“Look,” Gypsy said, stretching her arms over her head and yawning widely. “Believe it or don’t believe it, that’s fine by me, but at least think about it this way: you’re giving off some major emotional vibes. Even a blind riding a racing horse at a hundred meters would sense it. “Jase asked you a question, didn’t he?”
I bit my lip and nodded, the tears never far away when I thought of that last night.
“He asked me to go with him, but I couldn’t.”
“You said no.” Gypsy paused, her voice softening. “And now you’re questioning that decision.”
“I couldn’t go with him – I have a place at community college to get my AP degree. I can’t afford not to take it because it comes with a small scholarship – enough to pay my fees and a little of my rent if I’m careful.”
“You’re being sensible,” Gypsy nodded. “Responsible.”
“I guess … I … I miss him.”
“I know.”
“And I’m wondering if I’ve made the biggest mistake of my whole life.”
“Ah, lives can be long and unpredictable – that’s half of the fun.”
“It doesn’t feel fun!” I snapped.
“It feels like your heart is tearing in two.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, it does.”
“Ah, Kerry,” she sighed. “There is more than one road to take, and I think you know that.”
“There’s the road you think you should take, the road you want to take, and then there’s another road – the road untaken.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why does it have to be all or nothing? People do long distance relationships.” She gave me a smile. “I’ve even heard that there’s this thing called distance learning, ah to be sure, it’s called online learning, so it is.”
“But … my scholarship?”
“But that isn’t what worries you the most, is it?”
“No.”
“Jase.”
“Yes.”
She leaned forwards and smiled at me.
“I’m glad we had this chat.”
Then she stood up.
“What? That’s it? You’re not going to give me any advice?” My voice rose. “You’re not going to read my fortune? You’re not going to tell me what to do?”
“I don’t need to … do I?”
Then she shocked me by leaning down and pressing a kiss to my cheek. I swear a jolt went through me – like an electrical shock. And all the lights went out.
Her light laugh filtered through the darkness and I realized that she was already several steps away from me.
“Bloody lightbulb,” she laughed, her voice fading away.
I fumbled my way out into the daylight, breathing hard.
What the fuck was that? What a waste of time.
No, it wasn’t, another voice said.
And I wasn’t sure it was my voice or Gypsy’s.
I don’t remember making my way to where I’d parked the car. What on earth had possessed me to come here, to this traveling carnival to ask a freakin’ fortune teller what I should do with the rest of my life.
But as I fumed and cussed, I realized that I did have a greater clarity, and I had come to a decision.
I climbed into my car and turned the key in the engine. It coughed and stuttered, then settled into a rough rumble. My hands flexed on the steering wheel, but which way would I go? Left? Right? Straight ahead?
At that moment, the clouds parted and a ray of sunlight threw a rainbow across the wide, Minnesota sky.
I smiled to myself because now I knew where I was going: the road not taken.
THE END
I hope this short story speaks to you. We’ve all been 19 and unsure of where our lives would take us, and sometimes scared to make the big decisions. Well, that isn’t just at 19, is it?
I think Gypsy offered Kerry some alternatives, some different ways of making a decision.
The Road Not Taken is a favourite poem of mine by Robert Frost. You can read it here.
And if you want to find out more about Gypsy, here’s her story, the fifth in my bestselling Traveling Series.
The Traveling Man book 1
The Traveling Woman book 2
Roustabout book 3
Carnival book 4
Gypsy book 5
Until next month! When I’ll write the third and final part in the BYRON short stories.
These days, taking care of my appearance meant checking that my teeth didn’t have spinach in them, and combing my hair.s