Fortunate One

The clock on the dash couldn’t be changed manually, but drive in and out of Wi-Fi enough, and you could lose a few minutes. We drove up Malibu Canyon. One of the last places a person could still lose Wi-Fi. Where self-driving could flicker on and off. And if you found the right pocket of road at the right time and jerked the steering wheel hard enough, you might still be able to drive off a cliff. The canyons might be last place a wrong clock or car accident is even possible.

The car revved off Pacific Coast Highway and up the road, ordering my hands to the wheel for extra safety. The marine layer lingered miles up the hill, covering old highway signs and faded double yellow lines. We’d lost more than a few minutes on the dash, and our ETA stretched into the wrong direction. I gripped the steering wheel when commanded and sighed a little too loud.

“Try and relax.” Halona took her toes off the windshield and tucked her knees under her sweater. “This is supposed to be fun.”

The whole thing was her idea, and I didn’t let her forget it. She got it in her head somewhere that a pre-wedding tarot reading would be inspiring. “A way to align our destinies and give direction to our manifestations,” is what she said.

Halona loved the woo-woo, spiritual stuff but never took it too seriously. At least, that’s what I thought at the time. She dragged me to manifestation drum circles and meditation retreats and didn’t mind me making sarcastic remarks. She agreed something could be sacred and still be humorous. And that the funniest moments came from poking fun at what you love the most.

I didn’t admit it then, but the idea of a psychic intrigued me. I’d seen therapists. They never tell you what to do. I hired a life coach who spoke endlessly on what I must do. I figured a psychic is the one person who will remind you it really doesn’t matter what you do because this is what’s going to happen. That life is more like a self-driving car. Keep your hands near the wheel while a higher power steers.

“What are you going to ask her?” Halona picked up her phone from the cup holder and started to scroll.

“Are we supposed to have questions ready?” My eyes stayed locked on broken yellow lines.

“Well, I’d like to get a fresh perspective on spiritual lineage.” She turned up her seat warmer and laid her phone back down. “And the TV series, obviously.”

Up until a few months ago, Halona lived her whole life thinking she was a direct descendant of the Iroquois tribe. Her black hair and sharp cheekbones made it believable, and her blue eyes-blue as an island sky, which of course now seem like a dead giveaway-held a warm mystery. Something that certainly felt native, at least to me. Like a swimming pond on the frontier. So welcoming you could almost forget danger was closing in.

Her native dream died the day her brother took an ancestry test. It revealed Dutch, German, a slice of Pacific Islander, but not a drop of Native American. Their mother (who spent years dealing blackjack at the reservation up north) admitted later that she’d always felt a deep connection to Native culture and didn’t see the harm in giving her children a more honorable birthright.

“You didn’t tell her anything about us did you?” I’d seen how these people worked. Nothing more than dark nail polish and pattern recognition.

“I wish you’d lighten up,” Halona took off her Ray-Bans and craned her neck to look over the cliff’s edge. The highway dipped into a pocket of fog, and the car commanded me to grab the wheel. She turned toward me, leaning her elbows on the center console. “Baby,” she said, waving long eyelashes. “When are you going to love me forever?”

“I love you forever right now,” I said in the same reassuring tone I always used when she asked this question.

“Then why are you so tense?” She twirled her phone in her hand.

“We should have been there by now, and our ETA keeps getting longer.”

“You always get cranky when you have to drive.” Halona pulled the vape out of her purse and took two long puffs. “Hey! Maybe the psychic will discover your password!”

The forgotten password to my digital wallet. My life’s defining detail. Filled with dozens of crypto coins my mother gave me before she left. The only way to access the wallet is with the twelve-word recovery phrase, which got scrubbed from my memory bank long ago. When you block out large sections of your life, you can’t cherry-pick which details stick around.

When my mother gave me the wallet, the coins inside weren’t worth the trouble. But now, ten years later, the coins are worth around a hundred million dollars, depending on the market. Generational wealth, locked in a digital safe no bigger than a candy bar.

The wallet gives ten attempts at a password before re-encrypting and locking forever. And after nine hopeful and heartbreaking attempts, the wallet flashes red with one more chance. My father’s words, the day after my mother left for good, buzzed in my brain.”One more chance is just another chance to get things wrong,” he’d say with a Coors light resting on his chin.

I’m used to the audible eye rolls of booksellers when I call each week. Our friends snicker at the hundreds of copies lining our walls, overflowing from the guest bedroom. They smirk and ask about, “The Lost Fortune of Mr. Ya-Ya,” as if I hadn’t heard it all before.

With two million copies in print, my greatest fear is that my constant collecting will prompt a new edition to be published, adding to the circulation I will inevitably need to read.

Halona sits with me when a new stack of used copies arrive. She pours over each page, eyeballing every margin. Like my mother, she fell in love with the book and constantly quotes from it, if only to tease me. Her favorite quote from the book: “Life is short but wide.”

When I told Halona about the money in the wallet, she told me to forget it. She held firm that if I detached myself from the money and tricked myself into believing I didn’t want it, the password would find me. Though, she also asked, on multiple occasions, “Have you tried just typing in the word, ‘password?’ I hear that works for lots of people.”

Halona claimed the money didn’t matter, but she loved knowing it existed, even if unreachable. Of course, she didn’t know exactly how much money was at stake. Another thing my father told me: “Nothing kills intimacy like full disclosure.”

Still, like all good women, Halona could fall in love with the potential of something. In those eyes of hers is where I first saw my own potential. But with the wedding date speeding closer, the urgency to reach that potential chased me like an avalanche. And my digital inheritance, likely gone forever, locked me into the same perpetual averageness of my family tree, swaying over my head with all the shine and promise of a guillotine.

No matter what Halona told me. No matter how long I scratched at the screen door of my life. I couldn’t break into the beautiful future she was already living in.

“I don’t think some palm reader is going to tell me a password the best hackers in the world can’t crack.” I watched my tone now, careful to keep spirits high on the final stretch.

The highway rose again and the engine revved, delivering us into the open blue sky. The clock updated and the sun poured over the windshield. Mustard flowers danced on the hillside, bowing in the wind behind patches of purple lupine. Halona picked up her phone and opened the camera. She twisted her body toward the ocean for the perfect angle. When she turned back, her shoulders rose, and she let out a long, grateful exhale. “Baby?” she said, looking down at the photo she’d taken. “When you were young, did you ever think that you’d be this blessed?”

We parked at the end of a long, dusty driveway. The house was tucked into the hillside, covered with dry brush, ripe for an August fire. The roof was shaped like an open palm, reaching for the sky. We walked through a concrete foyer lined with tropical plants. The dry air contradicted the rainforest theme, and I thought about the water bill.

A loud humming led us down the hall. Behind a closed door, I heard the faint commentary of celebrity gossip from a television. At the end of the hall, a woman sat on a pile of pillows, playing a sound bowl. “Welcome,” she stopped playing and smiled. “My name is Orenda.”

Geometric tapestries draped the room. The same ones you see at ritzy yoga studios and incense-drenched flea markets. Over the door was a framed poster of a quote that read, “It’s Already Yours,” attributed to, “The Universe.” The psychic rose off her throw pillow throne and stepped toward us. She held Halona in her gaze like an old photograph. “My dear… are you Native?”

Halona blushed, glancing over at me. “It’s complicated.”

“You have it in you, dear. And your name. You know what it means?”

“Fortunate One,” Halona answered proudly.

Orenda reached a long, bony arm toward me, her face round and shiny like a crystal ball. Her eyes narrowed when she took my hand, as if I told her a joke without a punchline. “You must be Ben,” she said, examining the lines in my face. “Tell me, Ben, what have you come here to learn?”

Her voice held a rugged strength. The burden of heightened awareness, perhaps. Or years of carrying the weight of other people’s skepticism. “Well,” I glanced at Halona for help. “I guess I’m hoping you can give us the future.”

Orenda picked up a bundle of sage and twisted it over a candle. “I can’t give you anything,” she said, waving the smoke over me. “I can only pass along what’s already coming.”

“He hates the smell of sage,” Halona blurted out.

“That’s not true,” I said softly, wanting to scream.

Ordena shook the burning sage in front of my face. “All the more reason for it.”

We sat on a pile of cushions and crossed our legs. Orenda moved to the other side of the table. “You two are to be married soon, and you’ve come to hear what blessings are coming your way.” She laced her fingers together behind her head and stretched her arms upward. “Before we start, I want you both to close your eyes. Take a deep breath. I want you to notice your thoughts and ask yourself: ‘What kind of thoughts would I have if I was the person I wanted to be? What kind of person would I be if I was already thinking the thoughts I wanted to think?’”

Halona whispered, “That’s so quantum.”

After a few minutes of guided breathing and thinking, Orenda told us our primal zodiac signs. “Your animal spirits offer a glimpse into your compatibility,” she said. We gave her our birth dates and years. She looked at Halona. “No surprise my dear. You are a raven. You succeed where others fail. You will overcome great odds and be triumphant.”

Her eyes shifted toward me. “And you, Ben. Based on your month and year, you are an earthworm.”

Orenda didn’t smile. “The earthworm is lost in his own mind. Too busy pondering the mysteries of life to live in the present. They are, however, kind creatures. They can take a lot of punishment. Easy to bruise. Difficult to break.”

“Well, he does bruise easy,” Halona punched my arm. “Don’t you, baby?”

“Tell us, Ben,” Ordena ran her tongue over her teeth. “Is any of this resonating? Do you understand you are a worm?”

I shifted on my cushion, sage still stinging my nostrils. “I wouldn’t mind burrowing underground for a few minutes right now.”

Orenda shuffled a deck of tarot cards, tossing them between her hands. She flipped one card in front of Halona and another in front of me. “Ahh yes,” she nodded, pleased with herself. “You can’t fool me, and you can’t fool the cards.” Her eyes rose toward Halona. “Tell me, dear, are you two living together?”

Halona leaned over the table to examine the card. “We moved in together last year. Why?”

“Well, your card is the Six of Swords. It can represent distance in your closest relationship. I wondered if it was geographical or emotional.”

Orenda pointed at my card. It showed two dogs barking up at a frowning moon. “The Moon represents fear and anxiety. Typically a sign of existential dread.” She drummed her long fingernails on the table and stared at me. “Can you tell us what’s troubling you, Ben?”

Halona dropped her hand onto my leg. “He’s all hung up on this password to a digital wallet. It’s a long story.”

I narrowed my eyes at her.

“It’s a lot of money, Halona. And I only have one more chance.” My voice held an obvious edge now.

Orenda’s red gums glowed above the candlelight. “One more chance to get things wrong. Isn’t that right, Ben?”

My jaw clenched. “Where did you hear that?”

Orenda leaned back in her cushion. “Keep an open mind, Ben. Let’s see if we can find what you’re looking for.” She flipped the next card and dropped it in front of Halona. “The Ace of Wands! A new beginning. Something that may seem difficult at first, yet will be for the best in the end.”

Halona rubbed my shoulder, desperate to defrost me. “Maybe it’s children, baby.” She looked at Orenda. “We do want kids. Eventually.”

Orenda wagged her finger. “Based on the order and position, this card is really just meant for you, dear.”

She flipped the next card in my row. It showed a man hunched over, looking defeated. “The Ten of Wands, reversed. As you can see, it shows a man carrying a great burden.” She raised an eyebrow and grinned at Halona. “I think we know who this card is about, don’t we, dear?”

I uncrossed my legs, threatening to stand. Halona pulled on my arm and whispered, “Ben, don’t.”

Orenda’s face frowned and she folded her hands together. “Well then, why don’t you tell me, Ben. What is it you’ve come here for? How can I help unburden you?”

I relaxed back onto the cushion, mostly to put Halona at ease. “To be honest, it would be nice to get some insight on how I might recover this password from my memory. It’s the only thing standing between me and, well, everything.”

Orenda closed her eyes and sat in silence. After a long breathless pause, her pointer finger sprang into the air. “Have you tried using, ‘password?’”

“I think I’m going to wait outside.” I stood and looked down at Halona, her eyes pleading.

“Just be patient, baby.” She grabbed my arm with both hands and turned toward Orenda. “I’m sorry. It was really foggy on the road. He always gets cranky when he has to drive.”

Orenda waved her hand in the air. “Please Ben, relax. Sit back down and clear your mind. Let’s pull another card and see what it reveals. Remember, life is short but wide.”

I plopped back onto the cushion, ready to lean over and shake Orenda open like a piñata. “Where did you hear that? Can you see the pages in your mind?” My voice turned rabid. “Tell me! Tell me what else you see!”

“The phrase just poured from my mouth, Ben. But I cannot see the whole river.” She fanned the deck across the table. “Let’s continue. You’ll each choose a final card, and then I will give you my vision.” She raised an open palm toward Halona. “Choose intentionally, dear.”

Halona closed her eyes and shook out her wrists. Her hands swayed over the cards, as if guided by an invisible force. The card she flipped showed a hand holding an overflowing cup. Orenda wiggled in her seat. “I knew it! My dear, as you can see, your cup overflows into a vast pond of Divine Blessings.”

Halona threw her arms in the air as if she’d just won a hand of blackjack. “See baby,” she yelled, slapping my leg. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

“I’m getting a vision now,” Orenda said. “Bright lights. Thousands of people.” Her head swayed back and forth like a possessed preacher. “And I smell…I smell something wondrous.”

“I’m a chef!” Halona squeaked, giving it away.

“Oh, yes you are. And this is not your first life as a chef. But it is in this life you will reach mastery.” Her spirit fingers shook in the air. “I see a camera crew. A television show. Tell me, dear, is this in your heart as well?”

Halona inhaled every word and folded her hands over her heart. “I feel this so much.”

They locked eyes then, smiling feverishly at each other. When Orenda pointed her gaze at me, her face grew sympathetic. She said, “Try hard, Ben. Think the thoughts you’d think if you were already the person you wanted to be. And then choose the card that calls you.”

Halona patted my back. “Think positive, baby.”

When I flipped the card over, Orenda shivered.

The scene showed a burning tower. Rain and thunder pouring from the sky. A man fell from the top window, and a young woman screamed below, impaled by a long, jagged rock. Halona covered her mouth.

The candles blew out all at once, and Orenda jolted to her feet.

Halona’s mouth hung open, her eyes married to the card. “Why is the tower on fire?”

Clutching the sage, Orenda held out a shaking, goosebumped arm. “I’m sorry, but I think it’s time we stop.”

“What?” I rolled my eyes. “No bright lights for me?”

Orenda stood and stepped away from the table slowly, like she just ran into a grizzly bear in the woods.

“Oh come on,” I said. “Tell us what the card means. Does it have anything to do with the password?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you,” she said. “It is too unpleasant and horrible. I can’t in good conscience tell you.”

Halona gave me a bloodless stare, as if I’d developed an incurable disease right there in front of her. She pleaded with Orenda. “Maybe if you tell us, it’s something we can avoid? We just want to hear the truth.”

Orenda shook her head, inching further away from us and the cards. “No one deserves to know this future before it comes.”

In the silence that followed, the weight of their pity kept me pinned to the cushion. The sage burned faster and my throat swelled like I’d swallowed a bone. I squeezed Halona’s hand, trying to summon her from the cryptic gaze frozen on her face. But her hand sat limp in mine. And in her eyes, I saw the change. The island blue warmth froze into a nordic river. Like the icy white of a wave after it crests, spreading across the shore before retracting back to where it came. Any urgency to be anything at all went with it. The screen door would remain locked. And I was instantly ashamed at the depth of my own relief.

Originally published at https://coreymccomb.substack.com