The Foretelling (Charlotte Bloom #1) (7 page)

"If you have not found your swims in eight years, they are probably not here. They are in Peru, or Argentina, or Bali. Go to Spain, Greece, or Morocco. It is in these places where people go to find their swims, to get away from their roads." She blew me a kiss. "Good luck finding your swims, Charlotte. If you’re ever in Portugal, you have a place to stay for however long you want."

As she left, I sat there for a few minutes, taking it all in. She’d been blunt, but I felt lighter, cleaner, almost new again. It was a sudden realization: I should travel more. I should travel soon. I remembered a professor in college talking about the people you meet in your life, and their importance in shaping who you are and what you become. He said that some people come into your life for years, to mold and shape you, and others, for two, five, or twenty minutes, to momentarily show you the life you’re
supposed
to have: to guide you to the right path. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just encountered Anna for a reason. Perhaps what she’d said would shape my future. Perhaps I had to go to Peru.

I left the room for the cocktail party where, promptly upon my entrance, I was handed not one drink, but two. Anna winked at me and sauntered off. I drank both drinks in the span of about twenty seconds, so when Harry came and found me a few minutes later, I was laughing vivaciously with the bartender about my experience hiking up to Machu Picchu from the Inca Trail.

I wasn’t drunk, but since more or less giving up alcohol five months earlier, my tolerance had been lowered significantly. I was giggly and the minute I saw Harry, my smile dropped. I didn’t understand it, but it happened. It was automatic. He was my road, and I needed to find a swim. Or something. He walked up to me and put his arm lightly around my waist.

"You look great." He gave me a feeble smile.

"You too." I requested another drink.

"You sure about that? I’m pretty sure I could smell the alcohol on your breath before you even said anything." He took the drink from the bartender and handed it to me.

"You’re right." I set the drink down. Anna’s words had resonated with me. I needed to find my swims. And I needed to be somewhat sober to discuss things with Harry. I walked over to the cheese bar and began stuffing my face with bread and cheese.

"I think we should talk." Harry came up behind me and motioned for the alley.

"Can’t we just dance or something?" I was avoiding him. Deep down, I knew what he was going to say, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to hear it.

"Charlotte…" he shot me a look of warning, as if to say,
I’m only here to talk.

"Fine."

I held on to his hand as he led me to the creepy, secluded alley. I felt like this was a place where a lot of people had been murdered. We walked to a quiet, sectioned-off area, with only dumpsters as companions, and he turned to me. That’s when I saw the tears in his eyes. His hand was covering his mouth. He was about to break my heart.

"Char, I can’t do this anymore. What happened to us?" His voice broke on the last word.
Us.
Broken.

"I don’t know." And to be honest, I didn’t actually know the root cause. No one had cheated. No one had lied (unless you count the fact that I never told him about Lainey and my psychic reading). No one had stolen money from the other, or tried to kill any of the other’s family members. But this thing, our marriage, was not what it was five months ago. He continued.

"You’re different. We’re different. I don’t know what happened. But I feel lost. I have to know what’s really going on with you. Because I know for a fact that though trying to get pregnant has been stressful, there has to be something else. I have to ask you something." He took a deep breath. I could tell this had been bothering him for a while. He looked as though he was finally letting out
the
question that had been on his mind for weeks. "Are you sleeping with someone?" He looked down at me, expectantly.

"No, I’m not sleeping with someone. It has nothing to do with another person. It’s me."

"But,
what
about you? Did something happen? Is it me?"

I decided this would probably be a good time to let him in on my psychic reading. I had to tell him. He had to know the truth. I couldn't let him continue to suspect that I was cheating, or something worse, because by all accounts, I now realized I had of course been acting suspicious. He needed answers. He was going to laugh when he found out that I had gambled our entire marriage on a five-minute psychic reading. He looked at me sullenly, desperately.

"There’s something I need to tell you, and it’s not what you think. Five months ago, the same day we started trying to have a baby, I took Amara to this psychic on Laurel Canyon. Amara thought Sam was cheating on her, so she wanted to get a reading for some peace of mind. I decided to be a supportive friend and go with her." I shuffled my feet and looked down at Harry’s arms. They were crossed in front of his chest. I felt more ridiculous by the minute. "Anyways, to be a supportive friend, I decided to get a reading too, thinking it would be quick and painless. But Lainey told me…" I broke off there, not sure how to phrase it. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. "She told me that my marriage would fall apart. She told me that we weren’t meant to be together."

Harry stood there for a minute, arms still crossed, processing that information. Clearly, I sounded like a crazy person. He unfolded and then folded his arms again. He paced back and forth between me and the dumpster a few feet behind him.

"So, you’re telling me that our marriage is going to shit all because some
psychic
said so? What makes you think she’s even credible? Psychics lie! That’s how they make money!" He was fuming now. I could see it in his nostrils: they were flaring. Harry never yelled. He just talked normally, but he paced and his nostrils would flare.

"She predicted Amara’s engagement. How could she have known? She said it would happen that weekend, and it did. She said Amara would get married in June, which she did. She said our marriage would dissolve shortly after Amara’s wedding, which it is. What about this makes you think she
wasn’t
right?!"

"You’re crazy. You’re absolutely fucking crazy. I’m sorry, but the woman I married would not have listened to a psychic about marriage advice. The Charlotte I knew was a lot more levelheaded and sane. This… whoever you are… you are not who I married."

"I’m sorry, I really am. But when Amara got engaged, and when she out-of-the-blue chose a wedding date in June, completely by chance because another couple had canceled, I thought for sure Lainey was right. Well, I don’t know if she was right, necessarily, or if it was a self-fulfilling prophecy kind of thing. That’s not the point. What she predicted had happened. I think she may have actually been right. Clearly, she was right on some level, because here we are, at Amara’s wedding, in June, and this definitely isn’t the kind of fight that will end well. In fact, I’m pretty sure you came here tonight to leave me."

I’d voiced my suspicions. I crossed my arms in front of me, waiting for Harry to contradict me. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking down at his shoes. I went over to him and stood in front of him.

"I tried to get pregnant to prove Lainey wrong. If we were going to have children together, nothing would break us apart. I want to stay with you. I love you. I thought having kids would fix any problem that would eventually come up. But it didn’t happen. Obviously." I looked up at him and suddenly he was crying.

I held him for a minute, and pretty soon we were hugging each other and sobbing. I could feel him melting into me. This was it. This was the deciding point. It was now or never, we had to fight or leave. I knew why the divorce rate was 50% now. Marriage was hard, and one little hiccup could turn into a giant, debilitating cough. A fatal illness.

"I can’t believe this is happening." He brushed the tears off of his face with his hands. Seeing Harry cry made me really uncomfortable. I just wanted to crawl under the covers and forget I ever saw it.

"What, us fighting?" I looked up at him hopefully.
Please, no.

"No, us breaking up."

"What? We’re not breaking up. I can’t lose you. You’re my husband. We took vows." My voice broke on the last word. Our vows had been emotional and meaningful at our wedding. It had been my favorite part of the day. Amara didn’t care about her ceremony, but mine had been the best ten minutes of my life thus far.

Harry looked at me sadly. I could see it in his eyes. He was done. I felt a sob escape my lips, and yet, looking at him, I knew there was nothing I could say to change his mind. He was done.
We
were done.

"Charlotte… I can’t. I can’t do this anymore. Lainey was right. It took you shaking things up for me to realize it, but I think… I think I’ve gone a long time without realizing I wasn’t happy. Complacency and happiness feel the same in the moment, and I think I mistook our complacency with happiness. I think my feelings got muddled."

This couldn’t actually be happening. Why didn’t I feel anything? Harry was leaving me, and I felt numb.

"Let’s go to Peru. Let’s go try and fix our marriage. We were happy once. We can feel that again. We have to try." I heard the desperation in my voice and it made me cringe. I was begging him. I felt tears slipping out of the corners of my eyes.

"Charlotte… I can’t go to Peru. I’m done."

"So we’re getting divorced?" I felt sick saying that. I felt literally, physically sick. I felt like I was going to throw up. My face contorted as I sobbed.

"I think we should take some time. Alone. Think things over. Regroup." He offered me his handkerchief to wipe my eyes. I loved that about him. He was so old school.

"So…" I said, my voice croaky. "Where do we go from here?"

"You stay here. Be with Amara. I will go home and pack a bag. I’ll stay at a hotel. You stay in the house. I’ll be gone before you get back tonight. And I’ll call you… when I’m ready."

"OK." I didn’t know what else to say.

Harry came over and kissed me on the forehead. I sobbed into his chest as he looked down at me, tears in his eyes. He was leaving.
He was leaving.
And then he walked away. I crumpled down onto the dirty, littered asphalt.

After sitting there, on the ground, crying for what seemed like hours, I had every intention of going back to the wedding, cleaning up, and acting like nothing had happened. It was Amara’s wedding day, after all. I considered having the house to myself, and time to think, and it seemed like an OK idea. But when Harry had said that he’d call when he was ready, something inside of me snapped. Memories of my college boyfriend, who used to "call me when he could", resurfaced. I became panicky. I became almost crazed. I wasn’t in control of my life, and that bothered me. I wanted control. Harry didn’t get to control my future. Only
I
controlled my future. I could feel my heart speeding up. I could feel the anger and rage rising up in my throat, in the form of vomit. I suppressed it. And I did the only thing I thought made sense.

I grabbed my purse without talking to anyone, got in my car, and drove to Starlight Psychic.

PART TWO

In an ironic twist of fate (for Los Angeles in June, at least) it started raining as I wove through Laurel Canyon towards the psychic shop. That, mixed with the two drinks I’d had at the wedding, which, in hindsight, probably hadn't been the best idea, meant that I was driving particularly maniacally. I tended to get a bit masochistic when I was angry, so I wasn’t surprised that I was speeding through the canyon, over the speed limit, with two drinks in my system as it poured rain for the first time in months.
Very smart, Charlotte.

My tired screeched as I came to a halt in front of Starlight Psychic.
I quickly checked myself in the rearview mirror, wiped my cheeks off, and applied a little bit of lipstick. My eyes were bloodshot and my makeup was almost entirely gone, but for the most part, I looked half-presentable. Before getting out, I sent a quick text to Adriana, Amara’s sister, letting her know that I was "SO SORRY" and that I’d gone home because I'd been feeling sick. I said I’d try and catch Amara before she left on her honeymoon later that night. I also texted my boss, letting her know that I would be taking some personal time and that I’d check in when I had a chance. I didn’t know what my life would look like in the coming weeks, but I did know that I wasn’t going back to my normal life, or what I considered normal, ever again.

I got out of my car and dashed to the front door of the shop, standing under the same awning I stood under five months ago. I couldn’t see inside because it was so dark. I tried to push the door open. Nothing happened. It was locked. I stood back and looked at the building. A very small "Hours" sign was taped to the bottom right of the door.
Closed Saturdays.

The rage I’d been feeling since Harry walked away came back full-force, and I began to bang on the door as hard as I could. Maybe she was inside. Maybe she lived in the back or something. I knew it seemed irrational, but I needed to talk to her. I needed to yell at someone about what had happened to me. I pounded the door, trying to jam it open, not sure what that would solve, but trying to open it nonetheless. The rain started to come down heavily. I could feel my dress starting to stick to my back. I screamed at Lainey as if she was right in front of me, yelling about everything that had been on my mind. A Chinese woman who worked in the Asian noodle shop next door came out, slowly. She looked at me skeptically.

"No open today, lady," she huffed, before going back inside.

I was that crazy lady banging on the psychic’s door. I stepped back and took ten deep breaths. So, Lainey wasn’t here. That was fine. I would just drive around endlessly. I couldn’t go back to the house now. Harry was there, packing up his life. I couldn’t go back to the wedding because I’d already texted Adriana that I was sick. I got in my car and I let my mind wander completely. I had no idea where I’d end up, but I felt like I would figure it out eventually. I decided to take it one minute at a time.

As I turned on the radio full-blast, I realized I was really hungry, so I stopped at a fast food place, ordered at the window, and parked, wolfing down the hamburger in a matter of seconds. I was across the street from a mall, so I decided to go in to kill some time. I literally had nowhere else to go, and the most pressing matter at the moment was the fact that I wanted to get out of these wet clothes and into something comfortable. I parked in the car garage, got out, and assessed my outfit. It was much too formal for the mall; I’d look totally out of place. I took down my hair and brushed it, putting it into a casual messy bun. I kicked my heels off and put on the leather flip-flops that I stored in the trunk of my car. I also found my old, olive green, fitted military jacket. Now I just looked like I was wearing a casual maxi dress.

I wandered into the first department store off of the car garage – Bloomingdale's. I probably should not have been shopping at this very moment, considering I was probably very emotionally unstable, but it felt good to move and look at things mindlessly. I browsed the different sections, divided by designer, and found myself eyeing the lingerie. I always loved pretty underthings. It was kind of an obsession of mine. I grabbed seven pairs of underwear, two different bras, and a few pairs of nicer-than-I-would-normally-buy socks. I paid for everything and moseyed through more of the designer showrooms, picking up a few essentials: a pair of skinny jeans, a pair of cropped black trousers, some black leggings, a few t-shirts, a button-down tunic, a white blouse, a cashmere sweater, a red fit-and-flare dress with maroon paisley all over it, black ballerina flats, brown ankle boots, and a set of pajamas. You know…
just
the essentials.

I paid for all of it with my joint debit card, the one I shared with Harry. We’d been slowly adding to this account with our savings over the last few months. I felt myself almost get sick at the total, but on the other hand, shopping was therapeutic, so there was that. I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t go home. I knew I wasn’t going home anytime soon. I couldn’t deal with what waited for me there. There was a possibility that I might’ve been on the brink of a mental breakdown. Except… I felt wholeheartedly like myself. I didn’t feel crazy. Sure, I
looked
crazy, buying over $1000 in various clothing items, for a purpose I did not yet know. But I felt better, so that counted for something, right?

As the cashier handed me my two large brown bags and the small one with my new undies, I decided I still wasn’t quite done. I needed a suitcase. Again, I wasn’t sure why – a small idea had started to form in the very depths of my mind, but I wasn’t allowing myself to comprehend it just yet. I stopped by the home goods department and picked up a bright red carry-on rolling suitcase. Again, it was more than I’d normally spend on a suitcase, but I didn’t have time to compare prices right now.

I hurriedly carried my loot back out to my car. I threw the bags in the trunk and drove over to a drug store down the street. I came back with a hairdryer, toiletries, and travel essentials. I was set. I had everything I needed to get away. By this point, the small idea had turned into an actual, solid plan. I was going to the airport and I was going to ask to get on the next flight to Europe. Anna was right. I needed to be happy again, and now nothing was holding me back. I felt the inner traveler inside of me, buried for years, resurfacing. I was leaving. I was going somewhere I’d never been.

I had two more stops before I went to the airport. I ran to my bank, an old branch near our old apartment in Studio City. I still kept our valuables in the safety deposit box there. Things like our marriage certificate, the pink slips for our cars, the deed to our house, and our passports. That’s precisely what I needed. My passport. Luckily, the bank was still open.

As I ran back outside, I checked my phone. It was half past six already, which meant I had two hours to get to Amara before she left the reception for her honeymoon. I threw my passport into my purse and drove until I found a dry spot to pull over. A giant maple tree sat in an abandoned parking lot, and it was blocking the downpour. It was still light out, so I heaved the suitcase onto the ground, and began loading it up. I made sure to set aside the leggings, flats, and a t-shirt for the plane ride. I changed quickly. Even though it was a secluded spot, I was pretty sure I could get arrested for indecent exposure.

I threw the black bridesmaid dress in my trunk, as I wouldn’t need it, and put on the comfy, brand-new leggings and t-shirt. I slipped on the new flats, and I threw my military jacket on top. I chucked my sandals and black stilettos into the suitcase, in case I needed them during my travels. All of my purchases from the drug store and from Bloomingdale's fit inside, fortunately. I heaved suitcase into my trunk, and made sure I had everything else ready. My passport and credit cards were in my purse, along with my lip gloss and eye mask that I’d purchased at the drug store. I’d also gotten a smutty romance novel to read on the plane. I cleaned out the rest of my purse, tossing anything I wouldn’t need.

I slowly took off my wedding ring and put it in my purse, safe and sound deep inside one of the inner pockets. I wasn’t ready to completely take it off, and I wanted it close just in case. I wouldn’t fool anyone; I had a tan line from the band that would take weeks to even out.

My phone vibrated a couple of times, and I saw one text from Adriana ("Feel better!") and one from Harry ("Call me"). Before I realized what I was doing, I was throwing my phone out and away from me. It landed in a ditch on the side of the empty parking lot, plopping loudly in a puddle, splashing water everywhere. Immediately after, I felt relief – only relief.
That was satisfying.
No one could contact me. I was free to do whatever I pleased. For the first time in my life, I could do whatever I wanted.

At the bank, I’d transferred some money from my own personal savings account into my personal checking account, so as to not spend all of our joint money. I was pretty sure that could be used against me if we got divorced. The splurge at Bloomingdale's would be written off as insanity and paid back pretty easily. The travel splurges I was probably about to incur, however, could not be written off as insanity.

I drove off to see Amara before she left. As I got closer, I thought of what I would say to explain my absence in the coming weeks. She would be on her honeymoon anyways, but she had to know why, all of a sudden, I was taking this mega solo trip and disappearing into the night on her wedding day. I had to tell her about Lainey's prediction.

I left my suitcase with the valet, deciding it made the most sense to take a taxi from here on out. I decided I would give my car keys to Anna, who was without transportation, and have her stay at the house if she wanted, until she left on Tuesday. Harry would be gone, so she’d have the place to herself. I walked through a crowd of people who stared at me, but I just smiled weakly. "I was sick," I explained to whoever asked. I was just coming by to say goodbye to Amara. Also, I needed to explain why I’d been such a crazy bitch the last few months.

I spotted Anna near the bar, alone, and I walked over. She nodded to me, not even noticing my outfit change.

"Charlotte. This wedding, it’s beautiful, isn’t it?" She was transfixed.

I nodded and smiled. I didn’t know how to transition from that to "here, take my keys and live in my house because I’m fleeing my life here and catching a plane to Europe tonight, partly because of what you briefly said to me a few hours earlier."

"Anna, can I ask a favor of you?"

"Of course. A friend of Amara’s is always a friend of mine." She looked at me seriously.

"I’m leaving tonight, for Europe. It’s a long story. But would you take my keys and drive my car home? Adriana can give you directions. I am taking a taxi from here. You are welcome to stay at the house. It’s empty indefinitely."

"But – your husband is not there?" She looked concerned and confused.

I shook my head.

"No. He won’t be there."

A look of understanding came over her expression, and she nodded, taking the keys from me.

"Of course I will help you." She hugged me, and I collapsed into her. "Good luck finding your swims."

I thanked her, and set off to find Amara. I ran into Adriana, who said I looked better, and I asked her to give Anna directions to my house, explaining that it was a long story.

Finally, I saw Amara sitting on a bench with Sam. The photographer was standing a few feet away, poised with his camera, trying to get a silhouette picture of them at sunset. It was almost 8 p.m. She would be leaving soon. I had to make this quick. She saw me and squealed, probably ruining the shot. Instantly, I felt guilty. This was her wedding day. But at the same time, she was my best friend. I had to tell her what was going on.

"You came back! Oh, honey, how are you feeling?" She squeezed me tightly and I motioned for us to go talk in the corner, privately.

"I’ll have her back in five minutes, guys!" I gripped her hand as I led her to the private area behind the bench. I whispered to her, explaining why I left. "I’m so sorry I left right after the ceremony. You have a right to know what’s going on, but since it’s your wedding day, I’ll tell you the abridged version. Also, please know that I am OK and not to worry."

She looked at me with concern and confusion. The same look Anna had given me when I had explained that Harry would not be at the house.

"OK. Shoot."

"OK. Remember that psychic we saw in January?"

"Of course. Why?"

"Well, to sum things up, she told me a few things that day, the major thing being that Harry and I were not meant to be together."

"Oh." She looked at me sadly. "Go on."

"Well, I brushed it off, and I didn’t want to tell you that I thought she was a crock of shit, because you were so excited about getting engaged. I had my doubts about that, but then it happened. And she also told me that you would get married in June, which you did."

"Is that why you freaked the fuck out when we signed the contract for the venue?"

"Yes. I was totally spooked. Not only did Sam propose, but now you were also getting married in June. Two out of three things were predicted correctly."

"Oh, Charlotte, I wish you’d told me. You poor thing, having to go through that alone."

I smiled.

"I’m actually OK… but… I’m leaving. Harry and I are separating, and I don’t know what the future holds. It doesn’t look good though. I’m leaving tonight – I don’t know where yet – but I just have to get out of here. Everything came to a head today, and I’m just overwhelmed. I need time to regroup and think."