Fable

Every year we made our way along the same path our troupe had been travelling for decades. Sometimes we’d stop at different campsites, but nothing really changed. Every year we held fairs in certain towns, the ones with enough money to spare and people who were happy to fall for our tricks.

Every year I put on a turban and told people they’d live long, wonderful lives.

Was I the same as the other fortune tellers? I did spin lies of magic and spectacular futures, but I was different. I could read minds. I knew their lives from their memories and their thoughts, and I could tell them Janet would come back to them or Mr. Heinman would promote them to the next level.

They were lies all the same, but they were personal. They meant something to the people.

I stood in front of the cracked mirror Momma had taken from someone’s garbage years ago and examined my costume. I had my small gold hoops in my ears as usual, but I had hung small jewels off of them. A long skirt trailed down my legs and grazed the floor, tiny beads lining the edges. My favourite red vest went overtop a white blouse with long sleeves and I topped the whole outfit off with a bright purple turban wrapped around my hair.

“Two tendrils in the front,” Momma said about my hair, “and the rest at the back.”
“I know,” I sighed.
I had done this before, after all.
“Excited?” she asked.
I smiled. “A little. Are you?”

Momma was joining a few other women in the big tent on a small stage to perform a dance. It was a belly dance, complete with veils and hipscarves with dangling coins. The coins made a wonderful clanging sound as the dancers moved their hips.

When I took my break I’d go watch some of the dancers because the movement mesmerised me.

“Very,” Momma replied. “I love to dance.”
“And I love to watch you dance,” I giggled.
“Come here, chahvi,” Momma told me.

I walked over to where she was getting dressed near the cot. Momma pulled out a tube of bright red lipstick and ran it along her lips, then mine. I smacked my lips together, happy to share my momma’s beauty.

“Am I pretty, Momma?” I asked.
She wrapped me in a tight hug and butterfly-kissed my cheeks. “Of course. You always are.”

Momma grabbed my hand and walked me over to my small tent. There was a sign hanging above the entrance that read “Fortune Teller” in swirly letters and incense was burning right inside the doorway.

“Ready?” Momma gave me a quick smile.
I nodded. “Yep! And see the sign? That’s me!”

I immediately realized what I’d said and stared uncomfortably at my bare feet. Momma couldn’t read. She’d never gone to school and as a result never learned any of those skills. I was determined and figured out how to read on my own, and though I’d tried to teach Momma, she was still unable to tell the difference between the letters.

Momma didn’t even flinch when she replied, “it’s a wonderful sign, Fable.”

I nodded again, because it was wonderful. Though it would’ve been even more wonderful had my mother been able to read it with me.

Sometimes I questioned the gypsy way. Kids often never stepped foot in school because they had to work. Parents couldn’t get good jobs because they’d never gone to school. I wouldn’t ever see a school, even if I wanted to, because I had to get money to buy food with. We needed to eat and that was more important than education.

“Good luck tonight,” Momma said as she kissed my cheek.

I wiped the lipstick off from where she’d kissed me and gave her a small wave before entering my castle for the night. I was the royal queen. I made magic happen.