“Fortune Cookies”
The asphalt smelled like it had just rained. It had that vaguely acidic, earthy smell it gets after it’s been spitting for a while. The sun was setting and I was walking down a street back to my dorm room. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something on the sidewalk. Most of my relatives are on the edge of the being hoarders: the types who’ll have New Yorkers from 1998 lying around in piles next to the sink. From them, I’ve inherited a rare genetic disorder that manifests itself in the compulsion to pick up pieces of junk from the street. Because of this, I bent down and saw what it was: a fortune cookie from the cheap Chinese place nearby, still in its wrapper. I tore the still-wet wrapper open, cracked the cookie and looked at the fortune while eating the pasty, mealy cracker. After learning that 7, 64, 3, and 26.53 were lucky and that “pumpkin” was incredibly hard to pronounce in Mandarin, I looked at the fortune.
“Five Seconds after Reading This, You Will Forget….”
I walked up to the entrance to my building. Before I could open the door, WHACK! it swung in my face. “Oh shit!” I heard as I rubbed my forehead, “I didn’t see you at all!” “s’ok, I think”, I said as I turned to look at her. Black hair, green eyes. She looked so familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I had seen her. “Are you sure you’re fine? Let me see.” I obliged and let down my arms as she came closer. As she came eye-to-eye, a glimmer of light caught my eye. It was her necklace, a golden peacock, reflecting the streetlight behind me. The peacock’s eyespots were inlaid and seemed to shimmer, like koi fish were swimming in them. As I looked at them, she seemed to say something, but I couldn’t make it out. Suddenly, she touched the center of my forehead and I closed my eyes and flinched back in pain. “Ooo that looks bad”, she said, “there’s a welt right on your forehead.” Right on my third eye. “It’s no problem, really,” I say as I move back, “but thanks for checking.” She smiled, “It was the least I could do, after hitting you right in the third eye. See you soon, Isaac.” She turned and walked away as I wondered how she knew my name.
Later that night, I was eating dinner at the dining hall. A friend sat down and we started talking. He told me about something he had seen on TV. It was a game show where they drove up to a random supermarket in middle America and announced that everyone had to STEP AWAY FROM THE CARTS. Then, the contestant had to match shoppers to their carts. Someone had finally managed to win the top prize: a free year of groceries. When the host asked them how they did it, the guy just told them that he closed his eyes and used his instincts. Surprised, I reached into my pocket to get the fortune to show it to him. There was something else in my pocket, something I hadn’t noticed. I took it out and gave the fortune to my friend. As he read it, I heard a soft “tik-tik-tik”. It was my fork, vibrating on the plate. The sound grew louder as he flipped the ticket over and saw the fortune. Grinning, he said something about inscrutabilities. As he reached to hand the fortune back, a series of mildly strange events occurred simultaneously. First, he nudged the salt shaker with his elbow, causing it to knock over. At this point, the fork suddenly stopped vibrating. The top of the shaker flew off, landing directly in my lap. The salt poured out. “Better throw some over your shoulder”, my friend told me. Not wanting to get bad luck, I grabbed a pinch and threw it behind me. Underneath the salt I had picked up was the thing from my pocket, a small piece of paper. Unfolding it, I saw that on it, written with small letters in green ink, was “sorry for hitting you, Isaac!”, an address and a time, 8pm, followed by a drawing of a peacock feather. My friend started laughing. After I gave him a look, he told me to flip over the card. It read:
“You will Spend the Next Two Hours Concentrating on Vague Recollections of Me.”
I said goodbye to my friend maybe ten minutes later, made myself a cup of mint tea and walked back to my room. It was a Saturday night and I felt like I hadn’t really done anything the whole day. I was supposedly working on an Anthropology paper in the library but I was really just fucking around. I walked into my suite, said hi to the other people in it, and went into my room. I light up a stick of incense and started drinking my tea, thinking about the strange developments of the past few hours. Why did she seem so familiar? Whoever she was, she wanted me to come to a party. This was troubling, as I don’t do great at parties. Mainly, I stand by the wall and slowly drink beers. Low self-confidence, introvert, etc. Still, she seemed interesting, for sure. As I pictured her, I came back to her eyes. Deep green, like the green of a peacock’s feather. They grew larger in my mind, morphing into flaming peacock feathers, calling me towards them. My right hand started drifting towards the bulge in my pants, as the feathers filled my mind. Shutting my eyes and focusing on them, I saw words etched in gold print on their spines:
“Focus on These and Let Your Mind Go Blank.”
An hour later, I walked to the address that was on the card. I had described her to my roommate, who was surprised I didn’t know her—“That’s …, you know ….” … was in my Ecology class—“She did that thing about riverine systems in the Taiga.” She did things with people I knew—“She wrote that thing about LeGuin for Emily’s thing.” We had gone to a thing at her house a couple of weeks ago—“Remember, you stole bread from the bridge there. I think you stayed there later than I did, what’d you end up doing?” She knew me, but I couldn’t remember her. Well, I remembered that I had seen her before, but I couldn’t remember how I had seen her. Or was it that I had forgotten to remember her? Anyways, I went out to the address on the card. It was off-campus, a house that she had with some people I vaguely knew. The ground had mostly dried by now and a breeze had picked up. Something blew at my feet. I picked it up: a plastic wrapper, with red writing. A fortune cookie wrapper!
A brief warning: I don’t exactly know how to accurately describe the remainder of the night’s actions. This is not because my memory of the night is hazy or non-existent (though, in full disclosure, I had smoked a joint or two by this point). The night, as it happened to me, is clear as can be. However, I have a fair amount of doubt that the night as it happened to me, in my mind, bares any semblance to a legible, readable story. I’ll try my best.
Returning to the story at hand, just after our hero has spotted the wrapper: After entering …’ house, I assumed my normal position (head on wall, beer in hand, body at acute angle) in the crowded living room. I was anxious: the two joints were hitting and I couldn’t see ... “Hey,” I hear. “Wha,” I say. I looked up. It was …, in a tight green, blue and gold dress. Dark hair, green eyes, gold peacock. Beautiful. I saw the same shimmer, this time from her eyes, like there were golden specks floating in the green sea. The deep green sea, deep…
“Anyways, so glad you came! Sorry about hitting you, how is it?” How’s wha,” I start, before flinching as her cool hand touched my forehead, ending with “ahh, still hurts a bit.” “Here, I’ll get you some ice,” she said, opening up the fridge. Now, this is the first mention of a fridge. This is not the fault of lazy writing on my part. Before I saw …, I had been at one end of a crowded living room. Now, we were alone, in the kitchen. “Here you go,” she said, handing me the ice, “now, what were you saying about seas?” “Wha,” I say, “uhh, sorry I’m a little spaced out, had two j’s earlier.” She smiled and moved closer to me, her eyes glinting, “oh, no problem, I’ll remind you. You were talking about my eyes and how deep you felt looking into them, how calm, how good it felt to look at them and listen to my voice.” That’s right! I was talking about that! “Go on,” she said, touching my hand, “I was enjoying it.”
“Listening to your voice and being with you, I let go of my schlemihlhood, my perpetual unease. I just listen.” “Just listen?,” she asks as her hand strokes my arm. “I listen and take in what you say, I mean, I’m listening but I’m also not. I just look into your eyes and zone out of the rest of the world.” She winks, says with a smile “Like the last few hours, right?” “I like you, your eyes, your voice, what I see in you, whatever you see in me,” I say as I put my arm on her back, my heart beating faster, “I trust you” She smiles again, leans towards me and I pull her in, closing my eyes, but still seeing hers.
After a good five minutes, … pulled back, then leaned into my ear. “Mmmm, thanks, Isaac,” she says, her hot breath on my neck, “but do you even know my name?” I blush deep red and start to stammer something, as she starts cracking up. “Don’t worry! I know you know it, you just need something to jog your memory. Here, this will help.” She reached behind me, opened up a cupboard and handed me a fortune cookie. “Just remember the joke about fortune cookies,” she says, stroking the back of my neck, “they only make sense when you add ‘in bed’ to them.” Taking the hint, I cracked open the cookie.
“You Will Remember My Name.”
“In bed?”
“In bed.” SNAP
I opened my eyes, and we were in my bed, naked. “Now,” she said, as her hand moved to my member, “do you remember my name.” I did. “Well,” she said, stroking, “what is it?”
“Jess” I say and kiss her.
“That’s right,” she says, moving me on top, “say it again.”
“Jess,” I say, biting her ear as I start to stroke.
“again,” she says.
“Jess, with the beautiful eyes, Jess, with the dark hair, Jess, who I shouldn’t have stolen bread from, Jess, whose fortunes always tell the truth, Je-fu-fu-fu-fu-JESS!”