I’ve been to a fortune teller three times in my life.

The first time was on a whim. A girlfriend and I were at some sort of fair in San Antonio and she suggested that we get our cards read. The fortune teller was a little Hispanic woman in a closet-like room that looked sort of like a confessional. My friend went first and I strained to hear what she was being told, but all I caught were bits and pieces. When it was my turn, I didn’t learn much more. The fortune teller talked so fast in broken English that all I got was “jealousy” and a “blue-eyed man.” That’s it.

The next time I visited a fortune teller was years later in Arkansas. I was in a bad marriage, so when the psychic fair came to town, I went. Alone. I approached a middle-aged woman sitting at a cafeteria table. She asked for something personal of mine to do a reading from. I handed her my wedding ring.

“Second husband, two kids?” she asked me.

“No, first husband, no kids. You must be thinking of someone else,” I said.

“Hmm,” she said. “Give me something else.”

I took off my headband and gave her that. She then predicted that I would go to England. Still waiting for that to happen.

The third time was a favor from a friend. A young woman I worked with read tarot cards regularly, and she offered to give me a reading when I was going through infertility torment. She lined out the cards in some sort of pattern on the floor of an empty cubicle (it was slow day).

“This card represents you,” she said. It was a card that represented motherhood. “You are going to be a mother, and it’s going to be easier to get pregnant than you expect. Science will help, but it will come easy.”

I did feel better after her reading, but I figured she was just telling me what I wanted to hear. I didn’t really remember her prediction until years later when Girl came along as a surprise.

I’ve been thinking about fortune telling lately because I’m researching tarot cards for my novel. I have a box of Rider-Waite cards, and I took them out to look at them the other night when everyone else was at swimming lessons. I did not lay them out on a table but chose the floor near the bathroom.

Those things creep me out. Some of them, especially the Swords suit, give off a definite eerie vibe. Do I believe in them? No. Do I think they’re evil? Not really, but they are definitely not divine. I think what they are is very human. They represent the mortal longing to grasp the future in order to have some control over it. They are scary because they conjure up fears of the future – loss, ruin, chaos, death, the passing away of the familiar, the inability to cope. The comfort I take in learning about the cards is how comprehensive they are in describing the human condition, and how ancient and universal that condition is.

Far be it from me predict the future, but I believe I will never go to a fortune teller again. I have no desire to know the future. I’ve got my hands full with the present. I’d rather just be surprised.