The last way I’d ever imagined spending my twenty-first birthday was by working the register at my mom’s new age store—Tarotology—below our Venice Beach apartment.

If I hadn’t traipsed off on a solo backpack trip around Europe without telling anyone—and without returning until after the semester began—I’d be getting ready for a night out with my friends right now.

Instead, I was grounded. And I still didn’t even know why I’d gone to Europe.

Yet, I’d done it.

The memories of the trip were hazy—like I was watching someone else go off on the adventure instead of me—but they were there.

According to the spiritual psychologist my mom had dragged me to, I’d suffered a break of the heart and mind. I was now taking a variety of herbal medicines every day and sleeping with crystal healing wands next to my bed to “mend the break.”

It was ridiculous. Herbs, crystals, and all that stuff were pseudo-science. But my mom had threatened to stop paying for my college if I didn’t cooperate, so I had to go along with the program. Sure, I could have taken out a student loan, but getting into massive debt when I didn’t need to would have been an unwise decision.

So, here I was. I just needed to get through the next few weeks. Then the summer semester would start, and my life could finally return to normal.

“Excuse me?” a customer asked—a short lady who looked to be in her forties. “Can you help me select a tarot deck?”

“Of course.” I pasted on a customer-friendly smile and walked with her to the tarot stand. The stand was large and in the center of the shop, since tarot was the store’s specialty. “They’re all right here,” I said. “Look through the cards in the sample decks, and select the deck that calls to you.”

Her brows knit in confusion. “How do I know which one is calling to me?” she asked.

I wished I could roll my eyes and tell her to just choose the one she thought had the prettiest pictures.

But obviously that wasn’t an option, as it would ruin the “mysticism” of the experience.

“Handle the cards—shuffle them, and look at the images on each one,” I said, maintaining a practiced serene smile. “Try to sense a personal connection between yourself and the cards. Once you do, bring the deck up to the front so I can ring you up and give you your free tarot reading.”

“Perfect.” She smiled and reached for one of the decks. “Thanks for your help.”

“No problem.” I returned to the register and glanced at my watch, glad to see that there was half an hour left until closing.

The lady eventually selected a tarot deck, and I gave her the promised free reading. As always, a few tactical questions allowed me to generically relate the cards to her life and impress her with my “psychic abilities.”

“Can you give yourself a reading, too?” she asked once I was done. “I’m curious how else the cards can be interpreted.”

“All right,” I agreed. “I’ll give myself a simple one card draw.”

I shuffled the cards and picked one from the deck, placing it on the table between us.

A skeleton in black armor riding a white horse stared up at me.

Death.

The lady scrunched her nose. “That’s grim,” she said.

“Not always.” I sat straighter, forcing perkiness into my tone. “The cards are metaphors—they shouldn’t be taken literally. The Death card doesn’t mean that someone close to me will die. It refers to transformation or change. The death of an old way of life so a new one can arise.”

“Interesting,” she said, although I could see she was still spooked. “Pick another card.”

“It was a one card draw,” I said. “I’m not supposed to pick another.”

“I’m superstitious, and I don’t like the look of that card.” She leaned forward and gave me a small smile, as if egging me on. “One more can’t hurt, right?”

“Fine.” My mom wouldn’t be happy, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

I selected a second card and placed it face-up on the table.

It was the Tower—a card with a burning tower in the center, lightning striking above, and people falling out of the windows.

“That one doesn’t look good, either,” the lady said.

“Like Death, the Tower represents change,” I told her. “Usually in the form of sudden disruption, conflict, or upheaval.”

“Well, then.” She took a deep breath and clasped her hands together. “It looks like you’ve got something big to prepare for, doesn’t it?”

“Looks like it,” I agreed, since to someone who believed in all of this, that would be what the cards were saying. “Oh—and I recommend grabbing a quartz crystal from the basket.” I motioned to the basket full of quartzes in front of the register. “They’re only five dollars each, and placing a quartz on top of your tarot deck while you’re not using it will cleanse its energy for future readings.”

“Wonderful.” She reached into the basket and placed a quartz next to her deck. “Definitely add that on.”

“My pleasure.” I smiled and slid her credit card through the machine.

And cheers to the up-sell.