7/3/17
Calling the corners
We’re on the road today. We left early, so did the dawn, thick blankets of clouds stealing the light I’d counted on to burn out the depression festering in me. August was just as surly as always. He spent the early part of the car ride trying to remember where the treasure was, exactly. Not in town, he assured me. He’d buried it out of the way somewhere, but which somewhere he couldn't recall.
“Deadwater basically has four somewheres,” he said, floating just above the passenger seat. “There’s the southwest corner, near the docks and sailor district. By Lover’s Peril. I doubt I’d have buried it there, though. That's the pine forest and it always gave me the creeps.
“So what are the other three?”
“In the southeast corner is the eucalyptus forest. But when I lived there it was still China Town and I wouldn’t have been caught dead near the opium dens. So that’s out.”
“Northeast?”
“Unlikely. That’s the art district, or was. Artists always made me nervous.”
“Ok, so northwest.”
“Yes. There was absolutely nothing out there then. Also it was mostly open meadowland. No creepy forests.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Around noon we stopped at a rest area so I could stretch my legs. I laid the tarot deck out on the sticky picnic table and pretended August wasn’t there. A family of four bickered nearby about whether or not to find lunch in town. They watched as I shuffled. One of them called me a weirdo before mom ushered them into the car.
“I could pop their tires,” August said hopefully. I just shook my head and showed him the reversed Six of Wands.
“Can we just go home? The cards do not see victory for you, August.”
“Nonsense. I never believe a thing the cards say.”