“They don’t look scary,” he says, coming to stand by me. “That Chariot one’s cool. What do they mean?”

“Is your question about something you want? Something you’re trying to get?”

“Yes.”

“Makes sense.” I wonder what it is. He is such a mystery to me. And I wish he weren’t. “You have two Wands cards, and the Wands are all about passion, taking action on something. Fire energy. And the Chariot is interesting because it’s a water card, meaning a different energy. So, like, right now and in the past, you had all this fire energy, but now you need water. More emotion, more intuition. Feeling.”

I can’t look at him because I keep thinking about how Micah was my Temperance card, his water balancing my fire.

“Okay. Uh…”

His face is all scrunched up, and I laugh. “So, the Chariot is about perseverance. To not give up on this thing you want, even if it seems impossible. It’s all about creating a big change in your life. So whatever this thing you want is, you’re going to have to be all in because this card is kind of a bitch slap in the tarot.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s basically saying that you can get this thing you want, but you’ve got to, like, man up. That sounds like toxic masculinity or whatever, but just—be brave. Don’t give up.”

“Okay.” He smiles a little. “Worth it. So, what’s the deal with the other cards?”

“Well, the past—Ten of Wands—is a card about shit being hard. Like, in the picture you see this guy is carrying all these sticks, but his back is bent and they look heavy as fuck. His view of everything is blocked by the sticks, so he can’t really see the future. There’s something from your past you need to let go of. It’s weighing you down. Does that … ring a bell?”

He lets out a heavy sigh. “Yeah.”

I point to the Page of Wands, his present. “And, as you can see, if you let that shit go, you’ll be ready to take on the world. The Page is this character in the tarot who’s like, Let’s do this thing.”

“The picture makes me think of Gandalf holding his staff.”

“Uh…”

“Lord of the Rings. Told you, I read fantasy, you live it.”

“Oh, right. That old dude. He was a magician or something, right?”

“Not a magician—the magician. Arguably the best one ever, with Dumbledore as a possible exception.”

If he were Dad, I’d have to nerd alert that.

“Okay, so channel your inner Gandalf and make some magic happen.”

He’s quiet, arms crossed, his thinking face on as I gather the cards up.

“No one’s ever done something like this for me before,” he finally says. “Thanks. It helped. A lot.”