Palm Reading

“Are you ready?” He asked.

“Come on Ethan, do it already!” She was more than excited, and he had a crush on her, only she didn’t know it.

The rain pattered on the roof of the car, clamoring to come in. It was instead met with abrupt rejection.

“It’ll cost you twenty bucks,” said Ethan. The girl took it out of her bra and threw it at him. “Ok, give me your palm, the left one.” She thrust it in his hand and he took it and commenced tracing the lines with his pointer finger. In actuality, he didn’t have a knack for this sort of thing — palm reading — but it was something to do inside of a car in the pouring rain, with their futures gray as the overcast sky. “Let’s see… you are going to marry a sensitive man. He makes a lot of money —”

“—Have I met him before?” She interjected.

“Yes.”

“And is he handsome?” Her eyes were wide with excitement.

“Jessie, you know that’s subjective.”

“For twenty bucks, I should get an answer, Mister up-and-coming writer. Well?” She asked, her free hand on her hip, her head cocked to the side. Always an attitude with her, and he didn’t mind. He liked spunky.

“Fine, I would say he’s decently handsome. But hold off with the questions and let me finish. Now, you are going to marry this guy and he loves you so much and wants nothing but pure happiness for you.”

“Hmmm I wonder who it is, maybe it’s Jake, my brother’s friend. Hey makes a ton of money as a stockbroker. I don’t know if he’s sensitive, but he’s real fine — a little on the older side, but quite the looker.”

Kenny sighed and looked out the window at the heavy rain. His thoughts took him back to the time I their childhood where they were forced to climb down from a tree house they had built in his backyard with the help of his dad.

It was a thunderous summer afternoon that day with the humidity thick as condensed milk. Kenny’s dad thought it wouldn’t be safe for the two friends to play in thee tree house, so they retreated into the real house. Then, just like that they were… well — stuck, and in more ways than one: both were aged twelve and in a state of thrill and panic and happiness; both were clutched in the merciless hands of puberty. There they stood by the backdoor of Kenny’s house, watching the army of rain in its slanting motion like arrows being shot down in battle, and listening to the rumble of thunder, feeling it rise up in their chests, knocking on their hearts, screaming let me in!

And through the commotion of rain, the tree house stood waiting, like a boxer taking in the hits, leaning on the ropes. Those fighters learned to be the most patient of people, the most enduring.

Ethan and Jessie had spent many summer afternoons inn that tree house, playing board games and telling secrets and new facts they learned about themselves and the world around them.

What a rush it must have been watching the storm together that day. They giggled and held hands, although there was nothing romantic between them — or so Jessie (and only Jessie) thought. But even if there were indeed a shared spark, a small romantic flash of lightning, none of them said anything about it.

And Ethan would have to wait and bee patient and have hope… even as he did some palm reading.

“Yeah Jessie, perhaps. Come on, let’s go in and get something to eat before the rain gets real bad.”