Finally, I saw an actual tarot reader in Bylands Building, a couple of steps from Guanyin in the country’s most fabled temple; a no-nonsense woman I paid to tell me to let it go. She said he had moved on. She said he hadn’t been ready. I had drawn a King of Cups and she said, “I don’t trust this king. He tells white lies. He’s a sweet-talker.” Move on, she said. Don’t miss your boat. Don’t wait for him and miss your Mr Right.
Even then I had to come home and press the virtual tarot card reader for more answers, a story to tell myself to give him up. Whether or not the cards spoke true, I drew comfort from them (as I took refuge in flu and K-drama, two things which allow me to go around the house with a gooey face, no questions asked).
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