Love and Light

Sonia speedwalks through the Denver airport. A jammed wheel on her suitcase squeals against the linoleum, harmonizing with an infant wailing in protest at the early hour. Arriving at her gate, she crumples against a pillar glowing gold with dawn and lets her eyelids fall. Barely a moment’s peace, then an intercom blares that it’s time to start boarding.

She drags herself and the uncooperative carry-on into line and aboard the plane, shuffling through the cold, dry air of the cabin, finally edging into 14A. She sinks down and texts Anna, her surely sleeping sister, who would pick her up on the other side. On plane. Her fingers hover over the keyboard, considering adding something warmer. But she changes her mind, locks the phone, and puts her head against the plastic cocoon of the fuselage. Anna graduates from college this weekend, which makes this stupid early morning flight her fault. A moment later, movement in the aisle indicates company.

A middle-aged woman in a luminous green dress and floral-patterned heels has just hefted her duffel bag into the overhead compartment. She looks at Sonia as she sits down. Sonia blinks back, deadpan and tired. The eye contact lasts a fraction of a second too long. Sonia wishes she had headphones.

“We’re wearing the same mask,” the stranger says, lowering herself into 14B.

“It’s the best mask,” Sonia says from behind her N95.

“It is the best mask,” she agrees solemnly.

Sonia shifts over a few centimeters to let the newcomer fasten her seatbelt and get situated. Obligatory interactions complete, Sonia returns to her ruminations.

Last night, she and Anna had a weird call. Walking back to her car after her shift at the restaurant, apron still in hand, feet aching, Sonia squeezes the phone between her cheek and shoulder, waiting for her sister to pick up.

“Hi Sonia, what’s up?” They go over her arrival time, the graduation party, and coordinating with their parents. Anna asks if Sonia can bring nicer shoes.

Sonia tells Anna about the backpacking trip she just got back from and the ones she’s planning. “I’ll send you pictures. There’s so much incredible nature out here, Anna, you have to come visit.”

“Yes, let’s talk about it when you’re here. But I’ll probably be too busy this summer applying for jobs,” Anna says. In a few days, she’ll have her computer science degree in hand. Sonia kicks off her work shoes and puts in her earbuds while Anna monologues about recent interviews, starting salaries, and the different recruiters she’s talking to. A few minutes later, she says, “...but yeah, I would love to visit sometime.” The way she always does.

“Well, it’ll be good to see you tomorrow, it’s been too long.”

“Are you still working for that restaurant?” The question is innocent. Sonia isn’t sure if she detects or projects a note of derision.

“Yeah,” she says. The phone is hot in her hand. “It’s ok, it's a nice crowd here.”

“That’s cool, it’s important to have friends.” Sonia can't read her tone. Suddenly, talking on the phone feels like a lot of effort.

“Yeah. Well, I have to go. Excited to see you tomorrow.” Sonia says flatly and hangs up while Anna is still speaking.

The sound of fluttering jolts her back to the plane. The woman in the seat next to her is shuffling a deck of tarot cards. Illustrations flash in and out of the deck, which gets cut, shuffled, and cut again. She pulls a card, stares at it, then dives into her bag to produce a notebook. She opens a new page and starts writing. Sonia squints surreptitiously, but can’t quite make out the handwriting.

“Hi there.” A smiling flight attendant puts her hand on the headrest in front of them. “I love your tarot cards, but I’m going to need you to put the tray up. We’re about to take off.”

The woman in green obliges, thanking her. Sonia blinks. All of a sudden, the women are laughing together. Sonia isn’t sure how. “Do you want me to give you a reading?” the woman in green is saying, “I’d be so happy to.”

“Maybe later,” the stewardess says, winking before continuing down the aisle.

Sonia watches her neighbor secure the tarot deck with a hair tie. She uncrosses her legs self-consciously, wishing she hadn’t come across so grumpy at first. Cold air from the AC spills into her lap.

“Sorry for eavesdropping,” she blurts, hoping she sounds warm, “but it’s awesome that you’re doing tarot on a plane at five in the morning.” The woman starts, but takes the icebreaker in stride.

“Thank you,” she laughs, “It’s a morning routine for me. I didn’t have any time before the flight of course. Do you practice too?”

“No, I’ve never tried. I just like the idea of it. I have friends who do it, and astrology and that stuff, but, I don’t know, seems like a lot to learn.”

The woman nods sympathetically. “It’s a lot to take in, but it gets easier. I’m Livia, what’s your name?”

“Sonia.” She looks at the notebook the woman is putting back into her bag, “Were… the omens good today?”

Livia closes off momentarily, looking down at her lap. “They’re consistent,” she says, but doesn’t elaborate. Maybe it’s rude to ask a stranger about their fortune.

Sonia pushes on. “I like the idea that we can diffuse some of the uncertainty in life,” she says. “I’m jealous of people with magic in their lives like that. It’s never felt accessible to me.”

“Do you know other people like that?” Livia asks, seeming interested.

“One of my friends, my boyfriend’s mom,” Sonia says, “She’s very spiritual. She believes in ghosts, guardian angels, attachments—things like that—so sincerely that I can’t help but believe her too. She swears she’s seen and felt things. I’ve never experienced anything like that though, so, I don’t know. But I try to be open to it.” Livia listens unblinkingly, Sonia feels like she’s being assessed and that she wants to pass.

“It took me a long time to really get it,” Livia says, “but I’ve always had a connection. Not everyone does.”

“What do you mean?”

Livia hesitates. “Well, ever since I was a child, I felt this… presence, just out of reach. I’m not sure how to describe it. Like, an energy source out of my peripheral vision. Most people don’t have one.”

“I used to have an imaginary friend I would talk to as a kid,” Sonia says. “Is it like that?”

“Maybe,” Livia says. She leans in conspiratorially, “I always felt something there, but it wasn’t until a few years ago, around when I turned 40, that I started… Well…” she hesitates.

“What?” Sonia asks, fully invested.

“Talking to them,” she says. “But I’m glad I did, it’s been so helpful for my practice.” She pats where the tarot cards sat in her bag.

Before Sonia can follow up, the flight attendant is next to them again, pulling the beverage cart in front of her. She greets them familiarly, chatting amiably while she pours seltzers.

“I was serious about that reading, you know,” Livia reminds her, accepting a drink.

“When I’ve got some downtime, I’ll be back,” she says reassuringly and turns to the next row.

“Do you often do readings for strangers?” Sonia asks.

“Not really, not usually for free, and I don’t do readings for just anyone. But something is telling me that it’s a good idea,” Livia’s eyes flit towards some empty space up and to the right. Instinctively, Sonia follows her gaze, but of course sees nothing.

“Is it the energy?” Sonia asks excitedly. She must sound like a wide-eyed child, but she’s unable to look away from this woman, so warm and strange.

“It’s not quite ‘energy’,” Livia explains patiently, “They’re my friend. They’re a benevolent being that’s always sort of hung around. Anyway, they wanting me to do tarot readings right now.”

“Are they like an angel?”

“That could be one word for it, but it’s not a religious thing.”

“In the same way that something isn’t 'magic' if we can prove it exists in real life? Religion can reflect reality, I think,” Sonia says.

“Yes. Although I don’t know if my friend is part of any tradition,” Livia says, “They’re just part of my lived experience.”

“Maybe there isn’t a word for it yet,” Sonia says, trying to be helpful. She can’t quite fathom what it feels like to be this person, but wishes she could. How wonderful it must feel to be connected to something bigger like that.

“Do you know what love is?” Livia asks suddenly.

To anyone else, Sonia would at least say ‘probably.’ But to this stranger, it feels easier to say, “I don’t know, what is it?”

“It’s not something that comes from inside us,” Livia touches her chest. “It’s an infinite field throughout the whole universe. We can tap into it and connect to each other through it.”

Sonia imagines an invisible mesh layer, like a physics textbook’s illustration of gravity, stretching across the solar system. “Cool,” she says.

“Which is just to say,” Livia adds, “That’s how I reach my friend.”

“Got it,” says Sonia, as though she understands.

Presently, the flight attendant returns, true to her word. Sonia turns toward the ever-shifting cloudscape out the window to give them privacy, both ears on the conversation.

“Before we start, may I invite in my special friend of love and light to look at your life?” Livia asks, retrieving the deck of cards from her bag. “I can do it without them, but it won’t be as good.”

The stewardess laughs, nonplussed, “Sure, whatever you want.”

“Well, it’s about what you want.”

“Yes, you can invite them in,” she says.

“What’s your name?”

“Katherine.”

With a hand on the deck, Livia says, “I’m inviting my special friend of love and light to join Katherine and I for this reading.” Sonia imagines something whooshing into the cabin from another dimension.

Livia shuffles the deck, explaining. “I do the Fool’s Spread, which reflects the Hero’s Journey. You’re the Fool, the Fool is the Hero. We find you…” she fans out the cards, “...here.” Despite herself, Sonia turns to look. The Fool depicts a bright figure on a cliff with a flower in his hand.

“The Fool isn’t about foolishness. It’s the soul at the start of a journey. A willingness to trust the road ahead, even if you can’t see every turn. He represents innocence, courage, and beginnings.” Livia says and places a card on either side of him. “Now we look at his journey: The card before shows where you’ve come from. The one after, guidance for the path ahead.”

She points at the preceding card, depicting a cloaked figure walking away from neatly stacked chalices. “The Eight of Cups refers to leaving something behind. Maybe with a sense that it didn’t nourish you anymore. The cups were fine, but they weren’t enough. So there was waiting, distance, a pause before the next thing.”

Katherine leans closer to the tray table. “Interesting…” she says, “and this one?”

Livia slides her finger to the card on the right. “The Magician. See how he raises one hand to the sky and points the other at the ground? He is about making things real; channeling what’s above into what’s below. He has all the tools he needs already—the sword, wand, cup, coin. You don’t have to wait for something outside yourself to grant permission. What you walked away from,” she taps the Eight of Cups, “made space for you to create something.”

Sonia smiles, enjoying sharing this nice moment above the clouds. It all seems pretty vague.

But Katherine isn’t smiling. Gone is the warmth she previously radiated; evaporated into the thin air. “Well,” she says carefully, “thank you for that.”

“It’s a good reading,” Livia says hesitantly. “It means you’re being invited to try again. To trust that the timing’s right this time.”

“Sure,” Katherine says, her voice clipped. She straightens, smoothing her uniform vest with quick fingers. “Thank you,” she repeats, this time more firmly, and takes off down the aisle without another word.

Livia looks worried. “Did I say something wrong?”

Sonia closes her mouth, which had dropped open when Katherine turned heel. “It seems like you said something right. What triggered her?”

“I don’t know,” Livia says sheepishly, “My friend picks the cards. I just read them.”

Sonia had been wanting to ask, now it felt a bit reckless, but—“Would you do one for me?”

Livia looks over her shoulder where the stewardess had disappeared in the back of the plane. “Are you sure?”

“Please?”

The woman peers at her over the N95. “Ok, but don’t shoot the messenger!” she says. Illustrations strobe over each other as she shuffles the deck. She swings the loose cards onto the tray with a crack—and their edges align against the surface.

“May I invite my special friend of love and light into our space for this reading?” Livia asks solemnly.

Feeling nervous, Sonia says, “Yes.”

Livia looks off into space again, “Will you look at my friend Sonia and help me do a reading for her?” Sonia feels vulnerable and sends out a private prayer of goodwill.

Livia flips the deck to reveal the bottom card: The Devil.

Sonia shivers. “Aw man...”

Livia laughs, “Don’t worry, he’s not going to hurt you. Just something to watch out for!”

Sonia watches with bated breath as Livia fans through the deck, plucks a group of three cards, and lays them on the tray table.

“So, I’m doing the Fool’s spread; the Hero’s Journey—” Livia starts to explain.

“I got it, I was listening,” Sonia interrupts.

“Well then,” Livia indicates the first card. “Five of Pentacles says where you’re coming from.” Sonia tilts her head to examine the drawing. Two men, apparently in bad shape, hobble past a stained glass window with five stars on it.

“It speaks to hardship. Maybe financial stress, isolation, or rejection. You may be needing resources or support.” Livia stops to glance at Sonia, whose breath is hot under her mask.

“It’s ok, you can keep going,” Sonia says, trying to remain steady. For some reason, she doesn’t want Livia to know she’s right. She wants to move on, pointing at the second card. “Seven of Wands?”

Livia looks relieved. “It just says where you’re coming from,” she says again. “It’s not saying who you are inside. Does that make sense?”

Sonia keeps her eyes on the cards as something catches in her throat. “Yeah, no, it does. Seven of Wands?”

But Livia’s finger lingers on The Fool. “This is you. Look.” Sonia obeys, looking closer this time. A youth in a colorful tunic walks the edge of a mountain, holding a wildflower in one hand and a bindle in the other, looking up towards heaven as he steps into the unknown.

“I love the mountains,” Sonia whispers.

“It’s you!” Livia says happily, “Now, Seven of Wands is the guidance.” The man on the card is standing on a cliff, brandishing a staff in both hands. He appears to be fending off six other staffs rising up from below. The assailants aren’t pictured, out of frame.

“The message is simple but difficult: hold your position and trust yourself,” Livia says earnestly. “Others may question you, compete with you, or pull at your energy. You may feel outnumbered. But this card insists that your ground is worth defending.”

Sonia nods silently, blinking back moist heat. “Cool,” she says lamely. She doesn’t want to get into her resentments; it seems like she doesn't need to.

“So altogether, the cards are saying, you’re feeling less than, but you need to stand your ground.” She taps The Fool again, “You’re not out in the cold, you’re at the beginning. Your path is real, even if it doesn’t look like someone else’s. And it’s worth defending when others question it. Don’t measure yourself against them—hold your ground. That’s the work.”

“That last part about people questioning my choices was very specific.”

“I hope it’s helpful,” Livia says, sweeping up the cards. “I don’t know what your life is like.”

She and Sonia look up at the empty air between them, catch each other searching for the invisible being, and laugh.