The Card Reader

Tara woke up without an alarm for the first time in what felt like forever.

The realization alone made her smile before she even opened her eyes. No buzzing phone. No rushing to throw on scrubs. No mentally preparing herself for a twelve-hour shift that would stretch into sixteen or even twenty four. Just silence, warmth, and the faint smell of coffee drifting in from the kitchen.

She stretched lazily, rolling onto her side and burying her face into the pillow for a few more seconds. Her body still ached, but it was the dull ache of exhaustion that came after survival, not during it. Today, she was off. Completely off.

When she finally dragged herself out of bed and padded toward the kitchen, she found Melody already up, dressed casually in a loose sweater and leggings, standing at the counter with a mug in her hand.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Melody said, grinning.

Tara squinted at her. “Why are you awake before me?”

Melody shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. My brain won't shut up.”

Tara poured herself coffee and leaned against the counter. “That happens when your life suddenly flips upside down.”

Melody laughed softly. “Tell me about it.”

They stood there for a moment, sipping coffee in comfortable silence. Outside, the world was already awake. Cars passed. Somewhere down the street, Christmas music floated faintly from the television. Christmas songs just have a way of lighting up the mood of anyone, even the grumpiest person.

“So,” Tara said eventually, “about the pastry shop.”

Melody stiffened slightly, then relaxed. “Yeah?”

“I think… yesterday was exciting,” Tara continued carefully. “But today? Today doesn’t need to be about big decisions. You don’t need to rush into anything.”

Melody exhaled, grateful. “Thank you. That’s exactly how I feel. One day at a time.”

Tara smiled. “Good. Because I was thinking we could do something normal. Something fun.”

“Like what?”

“Holiday window shopping,” Tara said. “No pressure, I have the whole day to do anything, just vibes.”

Melody’s eyes lit up. “And baby shopping for Cynthia’s baby.”

Tara groaned dramatically. “I knew it.”

“I’m already so excited.” Melody smiled, taking a sip from her mug. 

Tara chuckled. “I think your excitement is rubbing off on me.”

By late morning, they were in Tara’s car, music playing softly as they drove through town, singing along, dear senor Santa clause by Jim Reeves. Christmas decorations lined the streets, garlands, lights, oversized bows tied around lampposts. The air was warm, strangely so for the season, but no one seemed to mind.

They parked near a shopping district and wandered on foot, stopping to admire window displays filled with ornaments, fake snow, and mannequins dressed in festive outfits. They were going to shop for a tree together.

“Oh my God,” Melody gasped, stopping abruptly in front of a store window. “Look at that tiny red coat.”

Tara glanced. “That baby does not need a coat that costs more than my groceries.”

“But look at it,” Melody insisted. “It has buttons.”

“They’re decorative buttons,” Tara countered. “Babies don’t care about aesthetics.”

Melody laughed and dragged her inside anyway.

The next few hours passed in a blur of laughter, playful arguments, and shopping bags. Melody squealed over tiny socks and soft blankets, holding them up like priceless treasures.

“This one,” she said, pressing a plush bunny against her chest. “She needs this.”

Tara raised an eyebrow. “You’ve said that about six things already.”

“And I meant it every time.”

They laughed, weaving through stores, occasionally stopping to sit and people watch. Melody talked about Cynthia, about how surreal it felt that someone they’d gone to high school with was now a mother.

“It makes everything feel… real,” Melody admitted. “Like time actually moved. I feel so old right now.”

Tara nodded. “It did. We just didn’t notice, personally I've never felt this young.”

Eventually, their hands were full, and their stomachs started reminding them that coffee wasn’t a meal.

“I need something hot,” Melody said. “Even though it’s weirdly warm.”

“Hot chocolate?” Tara suggested.

“Yes. With whipped cream.”

They headed toward a small café but just before reaching it, Melody slowed down.

“Tara.”

“No.”

“Tara.”

“I already know what you’re about to say.”

Melody pointed toward a small crowd gathered around a table on the sidewalk. A woman sat behind it, draped in flowing scarves, cards spread neatly before her.

“Oh my God, let’s go,” Tara said immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“Please,” Melody begged. “Just for fun.”

“I don’t believe in that stuff.”

“I know. Neither do I. That’s why it’ll be fun.”

Tara laughed incredulously. “You’re impossible.”

“Five minutes,” Melody pleaded. “I’ll buy the hot chocolate.”

Tara sighed. “You’re bribing me with dairy, of course you'd buy the chocolate.”

“Is that a yes?”

“…Fine.”

The card reader looked up as they approached, her eyes sharp but calm. “Pick a card,” she said simply. “Five dollars.”

Tara went first, shaking her head as she handed over the money. She picked a card without looking.

The woman studied it, then looked up at Tara.

“You have something beautiful coming toward you,” she said.

Tara crossed her arms. “Everyone has something beautiful coming.”

“But you,” the woman continued, unfazed, “you’re going to try to ruin it.”

Tara blinked.

“You’ll try to shut it out,” the card reader went on. “You’ll convince yourself you don’t deserve it. But the universe has already decided. It will happen anyway.”

For a moment, Tara forgot to scoff.

She laughed it off quickly. “Well, that’s dramatic.”

But something about the words lingered.

Melody stepped forward next, still smiling, still relaxed. She picked her card. The woman’s expression changed. She stared at Melody longer than necessary, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Your Christmas miracle is very close,” she said slowly.

Melody tilted her head. “Okay.”

“Your life has already changed,” the woman continued. “And it will change again. But before that… you will be tested.”

Melody’s smile faded just a little.

“You’re entering one of the hardest phases of your life,” the card reader said. “This will be the beginning of something new. Painful but necessary.”

Melody laughed awkwardly. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Most truths don’t,” the woman replied.

Tara immediately stepped in. “Alright, that’s enough doom for today.”

She grabbed Melody’s hand and pulled her away, whispering, “She’s just saying things to sound mysterious.”

Melody nodded, shaking it off. “Yeah. Definitely.”

They got their drinks and headed back to the car, laughing again, replaying the encounter in exaggerated voices.

“That lady really said I was going to ruin something beautiful,” Tara joked. “Like I have the energy.”

Melody laughed. “She told me my life was about to fall apart.”

“Rude.”

“Extremely.”

They drove home with the windows down, music playing, the sun setting just enough to tint the sky gold. Picked up their Christmas tree, and headed home.

When they pulled into the driveway, Melody glanced at Tara. “Today was… really nice.”

Tara smiled. “Yeah. It was.”

Inside, the apartment felt warmer, fuller, not just because of the shopping bags, but because of the quiet joy they carried with them. They couldn't wait to unbox some new shoes and clothes they got and pack Baby Melody's gifts.