Courtney’s Rain Shower Courtney T. Amakonze

Courtney Harvey is a recent graduate of King with a double major in English/Writing and Psychology. Her inspiration for “Psyche” came from the major arcana of the tarot, as it relates a complete journey of the psyche. In the future, she hopes to continue to use the tarot model to write a collection of short stories.

PSYCHE

The Fool “It’s time for me to leave.” Esther’s mother pressed her lips together and raised her eyebrows at her daughter. She scanned Esther up and down, noting the overstuffed backpack over her shoulders, the small luggage she clutched with her right hand, and the tote bag over her left shoulder that she held in place. She sighed and shook her head. “You naïve little girl. You’re not ready for what’s out there; you aren’t capable without your father, me, and the rest of your family. We’re all you have.” “You may be all I have now,” Esther squeezed her things tighter, her palms sweaty as her fingernails dug into them, “but I can’t live here anymore.” “You’re delusional, girl.” Esther could almost taste the bitterness in her mother’s words as if they were her own. “And as soon as you walk out that door, you’re not my daughter.” Esther clung to her belongings and walked to the door, her concentration preoccupied with keeping her breath steady and her face expressionless—she couldn’t let the fear in her every movement be anything more than subtle. She opened the door with her left hand and stepped out into the sunlight, turning back to look inside. She stuck her hand in her pocket and produced a key from it, tossing it on the floor. The sound of it colliding against the hardwood floor rang in Esther’s ears. “I’ll find a new mother.” Esther only momentarily saw her mother’s face twist further into anger, for she closed the door, clutched her small suitcase to her chest, then ran.

The Magician Esther wasn’t sure how far she ran before she stopped, but she was sure that she was exhausted and had no idea where to go. Her throat was dry, and she felt sticky with sweat. She took long, deep breaths as she racked her brain in an attempt to remember where they told her to meet them. Oh, God, what if I’ve gone too far? I don’t know how to get anywhere. She squeezed her eyes shut and took another deep breath, allowing herself to relax as she exhaled. I’ll find them. Even if I have to wander all across this city, I will find them. So, she wandered. She started farther down the road, taking in all the things around her. For the first time, she felt as though she had a choice; she could do or be anything she wanted. She was no longer held back by the ideology she was born into. She was free. The High Priestess Esther stopped to rest at a bench. She sat down and allowed herself to relax, setting her tote bag and luggage on the ground beside her. She watched the cars and people pass by, wondering what their lives may be like and where they were going.

It feels like I’m in a completely new world. The word stranger never really meant much to me before, but now… Now I can really see what it means. Her speculations were interrupted by a fleeting invasive thought: What if they find me? Esther felt her throat closing up and tears rushing to her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut, her eyelids acting as a dam to prevent the oncoming flood. Esther took a moment to focus on her breathing before opening her eyes again, a new sense of calmness washing over her. The Empress “Esther, sweetie, there you are.” Esther was caught off guard by the voice, and she jumped ever so slightly as she turned to it, finding that it belonged to Mrs. Carrington. Relief washed over her, and she knew then that she had at least escaped for the day. Though tomorrow may not end the same way. “Mrs. Carrington.” Esther tucked the thought away, standing up. “I got a little lost.” “Oh, that’s not a problem at all, sweetie.” Mrs. Carrington placed a comforting hand on Esther’s shoulder as she bent down to pick up one of Esther’s bags. “Come along, now—Ken’s waiting in the car.” As the older woman pulled the tote bag over her shoulder, Esther readjusted her backpack and lifted her luggage with ease. Though she had not known the woman long—she’d only interacted with her one or two times—Esther was certain that she liked her, and, even more importantly, she was certain she could trust her. There was something about the energy that radiated from Mrs. Carrington that made anyone around her feel safe and cared for, almost as if she were a mother to everyone. Esther silently hoped that this radiance would last; she didn’t know what she would do if it were to fade.

The Emperor Mr. Carrington stood beside his open car door, holding onto it to keep himself steady, but he didn’t hesitate to assist as soon as he saw his wife coming. He popped open the trunk and took the tote bag from her, sticking it in the trunk. He did the same when Esther approached, stowing away both her suitcase and her backpack. “We were glad you called us,” he said when they had all settled into the car. Esther wasn’t quite sure what to say—part of her wasn’t sure all of this was real yet—so she responded with a smile and a polite “thank you.” Esther could immediately tell that she was safe around this man. Not only did she trust him simply for his relation to Mrs. Carrington, but she could also see just how careful he was. She could see that as he drove, staying attentive and focused, and she could tell that the two of them had not struggled financially. The interior of the car was spotless, as was the exterior. If she had to guess, Esther would’ve thought that the car had been purchased just the day before. When they pulled into the driveway, Esther could see that their home was similarly impeccable. If this is the foundation I am to build upon, I am beyond happy. A strong sense of security and stability radiated from Mr. Carrington. Esther supposed that it went quite well with Mrs. Carrington’s air of kindness and compassion. The Hierophant “Remember, Esther, we’re here to help you.” Mrs. Carrington’s voice soothed her, yet Esther still felt jittery nonetheless. She tried to calm the shaking of her legs, but she found that

she had next to no control over them at the moment. She hoped if she needed to hit the brakes, she would find the strength, but there was nothing else she could make them do. “You’re doing really well. Just try to breathe,” Mr. Carrington said from the backseat, and Esther did as he said, drawing in her breath slowly before letting it all flow back out. It helped a little, but not as much as she would have liked it to. “Alright, turn here and try to go back around to where we started,” Mrs. Carrington said, placing a gentle hand on Esther’s shoulder. Esther followed Mrs. Carrington’s instructions, turning the wheel to the right, her arms stiff as she did so. She could hear Mr. Carrington murmuring, “Relax, relax,” in the backseat, and his steady voice did help to calm Esther’s nerves. Esther brought the car all the way around the curve, going back to her starting place, then, firmly pressing her foot to the brake, stopped. Mr. and Mrs. Carrington both unbuckled and got out of the car. After taking a few breaths, Esther got out as well, taking a look around the abandoned parking lot. “Great job, Esther. This was a good start. We’ll come back here tomorrow to work more on your driving,” Mrs. Carrington encouraged, a smile resting on her face. It’ll get easier, Esther thought, smiling back at Mrs. Carrington. It’ll get better.

The Lovers A knock sounded at Esther’s door while she studied, and she found Mrs. Carrington behind it. “Aaron is here,” Mrs. Carrington smiled, nodding to Esther before she turned back to the kitchen. Esther knew there was no pressure for her to follow—Mr. and Mrs. Carrington both understood how busy she was—but she felt compelled to do so anyway. Her work would be there when she got back. Aaron stood in the kitchen holding his bags and looking around the room. Esther thought she could see a glimmer of fright in his eyes. “Aaron, this is Esther. She’s been a guest with us for the past month and a half.” Mrs. Carrington gestured at Esther as she spoke. “Hi, Aaron,” Esther greeted with a small wave. “Hi.” Aaron’s voice came out as little more than a breath. “Allow me to take these to your room,” Mr. Carrington said, taking Aaron’s bags from him. For a moment, Aaron looked as though he would refuse the offer, but he relaxed, instead following Mr. Carrington with his eyes. “Please, take a seat,” Mrs. Carrington insisted, gesturing at a chair as she sat down herself. Esther followed suit as well. Aaron did as Mrs. Carrington said, sitting at the exact seat she had pointed out. “Mr. and Mrs. Carrington are wonderful, and I can tell you from first-hand experience that they will do everything they can to help you,” Esther said, hoping her words would comfort Aaron in some way. For a moment, she thought she could see that spark of hope in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said, a smile crossing his face. The Chariot The surface of it was shinier than Esther anticipated. The whiteness when the light hit it, the way the watermark glimmered on the surface—she couldn’t have pictured it before she held it in her hand. “Congratulations, Esther,” Mrs. Carrington said, pulling Esther in for a hug.

“Thank you,” Esther responded. “I never could have done it without you.” Esther’s eyes found Mr. Carrington’s smiling face, and she returned it with a smile of her own. “You worked really hard,” Mr. Carrington said. “You earned this.” “I still remember the first driving lesson we were giving you,” Mrs. Carrington pulled back from the hug, leaving her hands on Esther’s shoulders. “You were so nervous—look how far you’ve come! You now have the freedom of the open road!” Esther could only smile in response. Her mind was still stuck on the realness of it, the reality of the triumph. At twenty-three years old, she never thought she would’ve been able to master driving, especially with the heavy aversion her parents had against her acquiring the skill. All according to what they preached was right or wrong for a young lady—

Justice

“Does this mean you’ll be leaving us now?” Aaron stood in the doorway of Esther’s room, and she jumped when he spoke, turning to face him. “What?” Esther asked. “You can drive now. Are you going to leave? Accept that ‘freedom of the open road’?” Aaron’s eyes were fixed on the floor as he leaned against the doorjamb, his hands stuffed neatly in his pockets. Esther had not quite considered the possibility. Somehow, she always imagined herself as stagnant—stuck wherever her caregivers placed her. Even with new freedoms thrust upon her, she never truly felt that freedom in her mind. She could go. She truly had the ability to leave whenever she wished, now that she had her driver’s license. She could pick up a job, save some money, buy a car of her very own, and get the hell out. She could go anywhere in the country, get an apartment, find a new job, and start life all over again. She could do anything she wanted, be anyone she wanted, and she could live a life her family never would’ve given her. Yet, she still felt as though she couldn’t, as though she were stuck where she stood, unable to truly make decisions for herself. She may have escaped physically, but she knew that her family and her old community still had a tight grip on her, and they weren’t slackening anytime soon. “No,” Esther said, her voice soft. “No, I won’t be leaving.” The Hermit Esther lay in her bed, eyes wide open, but seeing little in the darkness of her room. Tiny rays of light trickled in through the cracks of her curtains, illuminating the room just enough for Esther to see the contours of the furniture and the few decorations scattered about. Her body felt fatigued, her eyelids heavy, yet her mind ran amok, preventing her from relaxing. Esther sat up in her bed, leaning against the headboard and looking around. Her eyes scanned over all the dark shapes, falling upon the bookshelf. She tried to count the books she could see… one, two, three… seven, eight, nine… fifteen, sixteen, seventeen… more books than she’d ever seen in her life. Well, that wasn’t quite true. She had seen more books than that, but they were all the same. Behind her eyes she could see it clearly: the room filled with people, all holding up their Bibles, marking away at the passages they were told were important, jotting down every word their leader spoke, internalizing every last breath. Esther stood up, and she walked over to the bookshelf. For a moment—a trick of the light? a trick of the mind?—the books all appeared to be those Bibles of her memory, but the illusion faded away with a blink. Esther looked closer at the spines, seeing just how much each book varied from the ones beside it. Even in the subtle moonlight, she could see how distinct the

colors on the covers were. She touched the spines, dragging her finger down the row of books just to see how they felt. Esther pulled one book from the rows, examining its cover. The vibrant purples, blues, and reds caught her attention, and she stroked the cover before fanning through the pages. She discovered on the back the summary, squinting in the low light to read it. Esther crawled back into bed, the book clutched in her hands. She turned on the lamp on her bedside table, and she opened to the first page. Wheel of Fortune Esther liked the way sunlight hit the pages of a book more than how man-made light did. Esther closed her book, taking a moment to reflect on its ending as she looked once more at the cover. Gathering her thoughts, she leaned over to the table, setting the book down and replacing it with the next. “You’re really getting through those books.” Esther looked up to see Aaron standing by her. For a moment, he appeared hesitant before he sat down in the seat beside her. “I suppose that’s true,” Esther responded with a smile. She did now hold in her hands what would soon be her seventh book read in just two weeks. “I get the feeling you were never allowed to read much,” Aaron said. “Just the Bible.” “I was exposed to a little more than that, but not much more. Just stuff meant to instill the fear of God in me.” Esther looked down at the book she held, then over to the one she’d just finished. If my mother saw that I’d even touched these, she’d want to wash my hands with bleach. And who knows what He would want to do. “You never talk much about your past.” Aaron cut in on Esther’s thoughts. Esther looked up at him, her eyes lingering for a moment. “I suppose I don’t.” “Do you want to?” “I…” Esther trailed off, receding into her mind as a conglomeration of experiences rose to the surface, all fighting for dominance. Esther forced her way through the crowd of thoughts, returning to the moment. “I was the third of seven siblings.” Aaron nodded in Esther’s pause. “I was second of five.” “The eldest was a sister, then a brother. Under me were two boys and two girls. I think my mother was in the early stages of another pregnancy when I left.” “Have you been able to talk to any of them since then?” Esther paused, thinking back through the past year. “No.” “Do you want to?” “No.” Aaron remained silent, and Esther could tell he wanted to ask why. “They all think they’re doing God’s work.” Esther pulled back, fixing her eyes on the ground. “They think that shunning me for leaving is the right thing to do. My sisters think that letting themselves be used is what God wants for them. My brothers practically live in a paradise on Earth. My parents… my parents don’t really care what happens to us. They think what those men do to my sisters is what God wants; they think what my brothers do to other girls is what God wants. They think that anything He says is right… But He isn’t God.” Aaron pulled Esther into a hug, and she suddenly noticed the wetness falling down her cheeks and dripping from her chin. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Aaron whispered as he held her.

Strength Esther released her breath, feeling her muscles relax as she did so. “Just allow yourself to relax,” the instructor’s voice slid over her, just noticeable enough for her to obey. “Do not let your emotions control you or your body.” Esther could feel the areas of tension in her body—she could feel the areas of tension in her mind. “You are in control of how you feel and how you let other people’s actions affect you.” Esther tried to soften the edges of her mind, but no matter how much she tried to ease it, the sharper it became. “Your mind is your temple.” The darkness of her past assaulted the purity of this moment. “And you can decorate it however your please.” Esther breathed in golden light, flooding her mind with purity to flush out the ruin. “You are in control.” The darkness was banished. “You are the master of your emotions.” The Hanged Man “How was meditation for you?” Aaron’s question was innocent, but Esther could feel his concern. “It went well,” Esther responded, a small smile appearing on her lips. “Alright,” he said, looking down. “I, uh… I was a little late, and you just looked a little tense, is all. Looked like you had a lot to process. Let go of, maybe.” Esther was silent for a moment. That darkness. She looked up at Aaron as the thought crossed her mind, and he appeared to understand without her explaining. “I think there is something I need to let go of.” Esther stood up, looking straight toward the door. “I have to go.” Esther went inside, straight upstairs to her room. She shut the door and felt her way over to her desk to flick on the lamp. She grabbed the first notebook her eyes found, also grabbing the pen off her desk. She stood there for a moment, staring at the notebook in her hands, seemingly unable to move. A few deep breaths coursed through her. She looked over at her bed, then walked hesitantly to it, sitting down. She ran a hand through her hair, tossing it out of her face, her eyes fixed on the notebook. Esther crossed her legs and set the notebook on her lap; she allowed her fingers to dance across the cover and feel the edges. She didn’t notice how her breath sped up as she pulled open the cover, revealing the clean, lined page. The pen clicked. The day after my fifth birthday was the first time I was raped. He told my parents that the children needed to join in for the festivities, and my parents—along with all the other parents of the cult—

Esther’s breath catches up to her. The word—the word that her family has cast off and disregarded—she finally said it. Death

There’s some sort of freedom in allowing the word “cult” to roll off her tongue, as if by finally saying the word aloud, Esther can fully understand her former circumstances enough to comprehend her experiences and move past them. The power that comes with her newfound

ability to label it as a cult, her family as members of a cult, herself as a former cult member—that power grasps ahold of her mind and slowly chips away at the blockage within her—she is free of her former mindset, of the walls surrounding her heart, of the lock that kept her shut tight. She can change.

Temperance Esther is careful not to use the word “cult” around Aaron—he’s not ready for that yet. But around Mr. and Mrs. Carrington, the word slips off her tongue as if it had never been a mystery. “Whatever helps you to heal, honey, you do just that,” Mrs. Carrington had said upon noticing how Esther was becoming more comfortable with the term, and Esther followed suit. She spent time every day writing about her childhood experiences, exploring how they shaped her, and speculating on the many roads her life could take because of those deep-rooted memories.

I can make the conscious decision to put my past behind me, but it is never really gone. It will always be within me. Will my life take the road I hope for, or will I let my unconscious fears control me?

The Devil And that was what it all came down to: the balance between her healing and the control of the cult. It would never release her, so she needed to determine how to slacken its unrelenting grip. The pain was a shield—it was a safety net she had difficulty fully releasing. “Dependence is…” Esther trailed off, her thoughts catching in her throat as she struggled to find the right words. “Take your time,” Mr. Carrington’s voice was steady, calm; Esther could feel his honesty in his voice. “It’s a refusal to release—to let go of—something that is harmful to your life, but you might not know how harmful it really is—maybe even thinking that it helps to rely on that thing.”

Mr. Carrington nodded. He took a lengthy pause, sipping his tea and looking at Esther in a way that made her feel as though he was looking into her—past the outer layers of her personhood and into her soul—delving into her unconscious. “Do you feel like you’re dependent on something?” Mr. Carrington’s voice was caring and unaccusatory; he simply wanted to know how Esther felt. “Yes.” “Would you like to share?” Esther was quiet for a moment, rolling the word around in her mind. Dependence. What was it that she was dependent on? “My past.” Mr. Carrington nodded his head slowly, remaining silent, allowing her to continue at her leisure. “My past is a wall that protects me.” “Are you going to break it down?” The Tower Esther took a sledgehammer to the wall around her heart, and it hurt like hell.

The Star Esther sat on the porch, the only lights coming from the dim, flickering porchlight and the stars that sprinkled the night sky. Something about those twinkling lights soothed her, and she could feel her whole body relaxing as if infused with a contagious, pure energy—it spread throughout her soul, and she knew she could spread it to others, too. Aaron stepped out onto the porch to join her, taking a seat beside her without saying a word. He simply looked at her for a moment before gazing up at the stars with her. “You’ve become brighter, you know,” Aaron said. “Kind of like these stars; it’s like something in you has taken a change of course.” “I’ve found peace of mind. Acceptance.” Esther’s voice was strong, but gentle. There was no force in it, but there was no fear and hesitance either—it simply was. “How did you do it?” “I reached a point of self-awareness; I had to understand what had happened to understand who I was and who I am and who I will be.” Esther turned away from the stars and looked over at Aaron. “I’m not done yet, but I’m getting there. And you will too.” The Moon Esther sat at her desk, the only light coming from her lamp and the moonlight that crept through the blinds. What if none of this is enough? What if I am stuck in a state of knowing, but unable to really use what I know? How do I know that I’ll be able to overcome my trauma? Can I ever truly move on?

Esther set her pen down beside her journal, staring at the words on the page. How could she be sure? I won’t be sure, Esther thought, a sigh escaping her mouth as it crossed her mind. But despite that, I can keep going. Awareness is important, and using my self-knowledge is important… But communication is what really matters. Helping others understand who I am and why, explaining to them that I am trying to get past my automatic responses—the right people will understand. Esther looked up from her journal, focusing her eyes on the lamp. She reached forward and turned the knob, cutting off the light. She stood up and walked over to the door, and she flicked the main light on, flooding the room with light. The Sun Esther stepped outside the store, the sun’s rays dancing on her skin as she emerged into the daylight. She wasn’t sure why, but she paused a moment, looking up into the sky, holding up a hand to guard her eyes from the brightness. The warmth of the sunlight nourished her spirit, healing her. It felt as though all her doubts had been washed away, and she was filled with the life force of the universe, which would serve to power her through any trials ahead. Judgement Esther’s shaky hands danced across the keyboard. There was so much she had to say, and her hands struggled to keep up with the pace her brain formulated thoughts. She typed for pages upon pages—she was unsure how much she had written by the end of it—and she printed it out. She didn’t take the time to look over it; she wanted to put the letters away in envelopes as

quickly as possible before she lost hope in sending them. She did, however, briefly glance at the beginning of her letter to her mother: Hello, Mother, I’m not sure if this letter will be received well, but I have quite a lot to say, and I would appreciate if you took the time to read this letter and give the other ones to my father and my siblings. I do not blame myself anymore for my childhood; I don’t even blame you. I forgive you for doing what you thought was right, but, in reality, it was far from right. I write this because I want to try to understand why and to get some closure. Esther folded the letter and stuffed it in an envelope. She did the same with the others, writing her old home address on the front along with a return address—she hoped she would get an answer—and she stuck a stamp in the corner. She mailed the letters immediately. The World Somewhere in the back of her mind, Esther knew this scene was the mirror image of when she left her family and the cult—but it wasn’t. She stood with a suitcase and a bag on either side of her, an overstuffed backpack over her shoulders, and three loving people around her. “We’re so proud of you, Esther,” Mrs. Carrington said around a tissue. “Oh, come here, baby.” Mrs. Carrington pulled Esther into a hug, and Esther held her as tight as she could manage. “Thank you, Mrs. Carrington. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.” “Let us know if you need anything at all. We’ll always be here for you,” Mr. Carrington said from his seat at the table, smiling up at her. “Thank you, Mr. Carrington. I’ll definitely keep in touch.” “I’m happy for you,” Aaron said, his voice soft above Mrs. Carrington’s sniffles. “Thank you, Aaron,” Esther smiled. “I know you’ll get to this point, too. You’ll get here when you’re ready.” Aaron smiled. “Thank you, Esther. Hope to see you around.” Esther took one final glance around the room; these faces, these rooms, this house—this had become her family, the life she should’ve had as a child. “Thank you all,” Esther said, feeling joyous tears welling up behind her eyes. “I wouldn’t have gotten to this point without everything you did for me. I promise I’ll keep in touch, and I promise I will never forget.” Mrs. Carrington sat down beside her husband, a smile forming through her teary eyes. Mr. Carrington placed a hand on her shoulder, and Aaron leaned back against the wall. Esther turned and picked up her bag and suitcase. She walked over to the door, opened it, and turned back to look at her family. “Goodbye.” “Goodbye, stay safe out there,” Mr. Carrington said. “Goodbye, honey, take care,” Mrs. Carrington said after she blew her nose into a tissue. “Bye, Esther,” Aaron said, raising a hand to wave at her. Esther smiled at them and turned back to the outside world. She stepped out, the breeze hitting her face and the sunlight kissing her skin. She closed the door behind her, clutched her bag to her chest, and walked to her car.