Some would have you believe that we met during the pursuit of noble things such as learning, art, or justice. While this is certainly a tidy fiction, a pretty façade on our partnership, the real story has merit of its own. And I believe you are ready for the truer, darker tale that lies at the foundation of our friendship.
We met in a curandera’s[1] shop in the shadow of downtown Houston, where I was apprenticing to learn the trade of the Houston psychic. I had landed in Houston after a three year tour through the Southern United States where I had moved from town to town picking up odd jobs – working as a maid at a hotel, a waitress, a grocery store clerk, and even a stint as a truck driver. Somehow, I could never manage to stay anywhere for very long. Every time a landed in a new place I would start to settle in – I’d find an apartment, get a job, start to get to know a few people – and then strange things would start happening. Elevators would drop below the bottom floor of a building opening onto sparkling underground caverns where people wandered around lost for months or tiny people, in glowing shades of red and blue, wielding cartoon mallets would leap onto my supervisor and pound at his limbs until his soul rose from his body. Eventually people would tire of the strange and unpredictable, and it would become clear to me that it was time to move on, lest someone get hurt. The strangest thing to me was that my world, with all of its strange happenings, seemed natural, while the world of people was a place that I found frightening and unpredictable.
Houston was the last in a long line of hot, damp cities, but I planned for Houston to be different. I had chosen to work with a curandera named Gloria, who spent most of her time as a psychic, putting on a show and spinning stories for housewives. I had seen Gloria’s shop – a small wooden house with a porch raised up on cinderblocks—nestled on Gray Street, in the shadow of downtown and on the edge of the affluent River Oaks neighborhood. The moment I saw her sign – swirling blues, pinks, and purples forming stars and moons – I realized that this might be a job I could finally keep. No, I wasn’t psychic, but perhaps I could learn to put on a show. Besides, if any of my typical strange occurrences happened here, I figured it would be taken as a sign of true powers. And as it happened, Gloria needed someone to clean the place and run some errands, so she didn’t mind if I tried to parlay the position into an apprenticeship.
I met Stephanie on a slow day in August, 3:00 in the afternoon and oppressively muggy, when she arrived at the door of our shop. Although the humidity tended to have something of a muting effect on life in Houston in the middle of August, Stephanie seemed to defy the temperature, and sparkled sharply from head to toe. Her dark curls were extraordinarily perky, like living creatures that took nourishment from the heat and grew fat and healthy. Her blue eyes shone intelligently, intensified by dark lashes and eyeliner. A pink sequined top, and jeans with the most unique and intricate stitching I’ve ever seen on mere denim hugged her curves, emphasizing her femininity. She was the kind of woman I didn’t talk to, because I knew I would never have the powers of attraction that she had. I would never walk into a room and feel people stopping just to look at me, and with as little time as I knew I would spend in a town, I had no desire to waste it in another woman’s shadow. But that didn’t matter. She was a customer, here for a reading, so I made polite conversation and showed her back to Gloria’s reading room when it was time for her appointment.
Now, Stephanie wasn’t stupid. When she entered our door she didn’t expect messages from the mysterious beyond or a glimpse of her destiny in a crystal ball. As a veteran grifter, having just arrived in Houston from her home in Florida, she was hoping that we could give her a sense of her surroundings, an orientation to the “here” part of the here and now. Stephanie had come to Houston on the belief that this was where the money was. While I was learning the psychic game, she was playing a game of her own. She’d always worked with others before, a secondary team member in a long con, but she had recently decided to strike out on her own and find a more permanent situation. She was looking for a man – definitely rich, maybe foolish – and she planned to take him for all he was worth. She told me later that she had been counting on Gloria’s “reading,” inspired by her statement that she was looking for a soulmate, to tell her where the pool of men might be. Gloria might not be psychic, but like any good reader she based her predictions in facts and observations, so a tip from Gloria might be as good as the real thing.
After Stephanie’s reading, I walked her out of the house. As I opened the door, I felt a sheen of sweat and warm, damp air immediately coat my skin, and, giving up on any hope of staying cool and dry, I walked out onto the porch for a cigarette. Stephanie’s foot had already hit the top step and she was headed to her car, but she must have seen me take the pack out of my pocket from the corner of her eye, and she stopped in her tracks and pivoted on her heel, as if suddenly remembering she had left something in the house. She bit her lip and her eyes flickered to my hands, and I could tell she was deciding whether she should ask me for one. I was irritated at the prospect of sharing – more the thought of sharing my quiet moment on the porch than a cigarette – but, compelled by the pressure to at least appear as though I wanted to get along with other members of society, I held the pack out to her and passed her my lighter.
“You know,” she said, leaning against the porch rail and watching the cars bump down the pitted street, “you and I might make a good team.”
“A team?” I asked her skeptically. “A team of what?”
“Like wingmen,” she said. “I’m new in town, but I want to get out there and meet people, and you’ve got something about you…. Well, I don’t know what it is, but it’s intriguing.”
I was suspicious, but I knew that if I wanted to make Houston my home, I would have to dig in and plant some roots. “Yeah, I’d do that.”
“Great! How about tonight?”
“Tonight?” I had been hoping for some time to prepare for this. I thought of a way to back out, but I was a horrible liar on the spot, and I couldn’t think of any appropriate excuses.
“I heard about this party downtown,” she said. “Lawyers, so dress nice. I’ll meet you here at 8:00.”
“Um….” I stalled, trying to think of some reason I couldn’t. “….ok.”
Stephanie flashed me a confident smile, flicked the cigarette butt into the gravel in the front yard, and strutted to her car. She turned back to look at me as she folded herself into the front seat, as if she knew she gave a stunning exit and wanted to take a little bow.
***
That night, I stood in front Gloria’s shop, my legs wrapped tight in a slinky, dark blue dress, and my heels shakily settled into the gravel out front. Stephanie showed up twenty minutes late, and barely braked long enough for me to climb in the passenger side of her car. Once again, Stephanie had dressed with purpose, with her curls subdued into long, glossy waves, her eyes intensified by her dramatic lashes – expertly applied with glue and tweezers, no doubt – and her creamy skin set off to perfection by her deep red dress.
We arrived at a tall, glass skyscraper on the edge of downtown. I had never been in a building like this one before and had no idea what to do or how to act. I wasn’t sure if Stephanie knew either, but she showed nothing but confidence as she dropped the car off with the valet, led us through the lobby decorated in glass, silver, and burnished cherry wood, and took the elevator to the top floor of the building.
The doors opened to a wide, open room filled with people in suits milling around, drinks in hand. Their faces were expressionless, their skin all unhealthily tinged with a pale, almost gray undertone. I hesitated to get out of the elevator, not sure how to talk with these people, but Stephanie gave me a gentle shove, and I stepped into the crowd.
I looked around at the people here – smart, capable, powerful, pushy – and began to panic. I didn’t know how to interact with people like this. Two balding men on the edge of the group turned to look at us, and I whirled to face Stephanie, my eyes wide with fear. She raised her eyebrows at my expression, put a soft hand on my shoulder and said, “I think this is going to be fun, but we definitely need drinks.”
We began to make our way towards the drink table, when I noticed Stephanie’s hip sway sharply into a man in a navy suit.
“Oh my goodness,” she gushed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t make you spill your drink, did I?” I could see the charm emanating from her in waves, and saw the man physically lean forward toward her, as if being pulled in by her beauty.
“No, not at all,” he answered, attempting to discreetly brush a few drops off of the arm of his jacket. “I was just going to get another drink.”
“So were we! You two should join us. I’m Stephanie and this is my good friend Sarah. We were roommates in college.”
“Raymond,” answered the man, his eyes not leaving Stephanie’s face. “And this is Joe.”
The attraction between Raymond and Stephanie was as thick as though there was a net of intertwined strings connecting them, so Joe and I awkwardly leaned around the couple and shook hands. The four of us headed to the drink table together.
By the end of the night, Raymond was completely entranced with Stephanie, and they had arranged a date for the following weekend. Joe and I had exchanged cordial conversation, but I knew he wasn’t taken with me, so I was surprised when he handed me his card on his way out.
“We should have lunch this week,” he said. “Call me and my secretary will get you on my calendar.”
I nodded in agreement, Stephanie beamed at me over what she perceived as our mutual success, and the men disappeared behind the closing elevator doors.
“See,” said Stephanie. “I knew we would make a good team! Now, since you are my good friend, you can help me get ready for next week’s date!”
Getting ready for dates wasn’t exactly my thing, but I agreed, meanwhile puzzling over my lunch with Joe. Little did I know what was in store.
***
At Stephanie’s insistence I did call Joe’s secretary on Monday morning and ended up scheduling lunch for that Thursday. I reported the news to Stephanie, and she immediately began to instruct me on how to properly attract a man of means, and arranged to pick me up after the lunch to debrief me on my progress. She shouldn’t have bothered. I met Joe at an upscale restaurant on the edge of downtown, stumbled through a series of questions that I thought were odd for a date – questions about where I went to school and what my favorite classes were – and before I knew it had been offered a job as an attorney at his law firm! I almost dropped my fork in surprise.
“Um…” I stalled, trying to respond to this unexpected turn. Shit! I thought. I had known this girl was trouble. ‘Lie’ she said. ‘Make up connections. Anything to establish commonality.’ Well, I guess telling him that I graduated from his law school wasn’t the recommended lie. But if I told him now that I had been lying, would it ruin Stephanie’s chances with Raymond? I bit my lip, trying to figure out what to do, and then heard myself ACCEPT THE OFFER! What had I done?
“Great!” replied Joe. “I’ll prepare the paper work. Between you and me, we’ve been struggling to find someone qualified ever since Raymond left to start his own plaintiff’s firm.”
“What?” I asked, coming back to reality. “Raymond doesn’t work with you?”
“No,” Joe laughed. “The hours weren’t exactly what he wanted. He’s a great guy, and all he wants is a balanced life so he can really be there for a wife and kids, so he didn’t even wait to pay off his loans first. He got out of the game too soon, if you ask me, but it’s what he wants.” I nodded, as if I understood.
We shook hands and left the restaurant.
Forty-five minutes later, as Stephanie’s car whirled around the corner, I was still trying to make sense of my lunch. I had gone in for a date and come out with a job and a tip that Raymond wasn’t the man of means Stephanie had thought him to be. What would I tell her?
“I got a job” I said, climbing into the car.
“A job?” she repeated, as if the words were foreign to her. “Like, as a secretary?”
“Worse…. I’m going to be a lawyer.”
Stephanie’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Speechless.
“Well, ok, we’ll get you out of that eventually, but help me out with my date tomorrow and I’ll show you how it’s done.”
I thought about telling her what Joe had revealed to me at the restaurant, but something held me back.
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll even have Gloria whip up a love potion for you for good luck.”
***
Friday night, I met Stephanie to help her get ready for her date carrying a curling iron in one hand and the love potion in another. Although I had mentioned Gloria’s love potion in jest, something in me compelled me to follow through on the playful gesture, so I had asked Gloria to throw together a potion for Stephanie. Gloria had grilled me on the purpose of the potion, frowning and muttering under her breath.
“That girl needs to fall in love,” she had practically growled. “A girl like that is why God should make women pretty or smart, but not both. Men can’t handle it. She sashays into a room, throws some sparkle and glitter into their eyes, and she can do whatever she wants with them. She has too much power.”
Gloria had looked around her shiftily, after saying this, and had started throwing things into her copper pot on the stove in the little kitchen at the back of the shop. Strange looking mushrooms, unidentifiable spices, some twisted roots, and a thick, red, goo. She had stirred vigorously, beads of sweat forming on her forehead, and then stopped, looking satisfied. She had poured chunky brown mess into a Tupperware bowl, tossed it in a paper bag with an apple and a spoon like a school lunch, and thrust it at me.
“Make sure she eats this,” Gloria had said, not meeting my eyes. “And you – help her put her dress on, and wait for her to return. You must be there when she comes back. She has to tell someone…like you…within 24 hours.”
“Sure….whatever.” I had already agreed to stay and wait for her – a safety precaution more than anything – so Gloria’s odd request didn’t make any difference to me.
Stephanie was giddy when I produced the love potion. “Oh!” she said, “Let’s do this. This will be fun. What do I do?”
“First you eat this stuff,” I said, holding up the Tupperware. Stephanie made a face.
“I watched her make it” I assured her. “It’s like a vegetarian chili” I guessed. “Mushroom based.”
Stephanie ate it, looking amused. “It’s not bad. Gloria should open a restaurant.”
“Now this” I said, handing her the apple. She looked at me skeptically, grabbed the apple, took one bite, and tossed it into the trash can in the corner of her living room. She started to turn back to me, and then reached out and grabbed the back of the armchair that was nearest to her.
“I feel funny,” she said. “What was in that stuff? I don’t know if I can do this.”
I squelched a feeling of panic and assured her that she’d be fine.
“Let me help you with your dress,” I offered, “and then we’ll do your hair.” We began the preparation process, and soon enough, Stephanie had forgotten the potion, the dizziness, and everything else besides the date before her. When Raymond arrived to pick her up, she was sparkling, as usual.
***
When Stephanie returned from the date, I immediately sensed that she was different. Her grin was wide, and instead of the seductive charm she normally gave off, she was surrounded by an aura of pure and innocent happiness.
“So…” I started.
“He’s amazing! We had the most wonderful time! He took me to dinner and then we just walked around the park and shared an ice cream cone! He’s adorable…and so funny!”
Knowing that Stephanie was a seasoned professional con artist, I was surprised at the emotion in her response. She shouldn’t be taken in by her mark. This led nowhere good. I had to put a stop to it.
“That’s great, but you don’t really like him, do you? You’re just in it for, you know, diamonds and stuff, right?”
She looked at me, confused.
“I mean,” I continued, “What if he didn’t have any money. You wouldn’t go out with him again, would you?”
“Of course….” She paused, as if feeling for the words. “I would….I don’t….yeah, I think I would.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“He’s adorable,” she said, as if offering what she knew to be a lame excuse. “I just, I want….he’s the one I want on my team. Maybe it’s not a con. Maybe we can really do this. We can play grown ups. We can be those people that I’ve been pretending to be.”
***
And that is how we met. Two years later, I work twelve hours every day as a tax associate in a large law firm. Strange things happen around me all the time, but these people – professionals – pretend not to notice. It’s been a great game, and I’ve learned a lot, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this pretense. I know I can’t live in a world where I don’t belong forever, and one day I fear that a piece of my world will break into the world of suits and power and money in which I am immersed and shatter the lie.
And Stephanie and Raymond are happily married, with a baby, and facing the world together. As I work at a longer con than Stephanie ever pulled, Stephanie herself has given up the life of illusion and lives as a real person doing ordinary things. When we met, we each exchanged what we knew for something that we had never had – something the other person knew well – and our lives are….different for it.
[1] cu•ran•de•ra (k r n-dâr) n. A woman who practices folk medicine; an herb doctor. [American Spanish, feminine of curandero, healer; see curandero.]
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