Periscope

Chapter 2: Pineapple Upside-Down Cake

It was another slow, sweltering Thursday when Vivian heard the bell above the shop door ring. From her round wooden table, she could see a short man studying her choice of decor with a slight frown. He picked up a miniature owl figurine, then picked up a trumpet, before putting both down. His coarse hands, she could tell from where she sat, ran over one of the many wind chimes she had delicately, like a musician would.

"May I help you, sir?" she called to him. He jumped and knocked over an old cuckoo clock, barely catching it before it hit the floor. He smiled sheepishly and set the clock gently on the shelf where it had been.

"It says on the sign that you're a medium?" He was British, and he was unsure. He looked like a boy from a soap opera, the one everyone would fall for, the one who would be a teen idol; but there was something idiosyncratic about him that didn't quite fit in with the soap opera lead's wet dream - maybe it was the mop top hair.

There something familiar about him. Funnily enough, to her at least, it took her a moment to put her finger on it.

"You're in a band, aren't you? The Monkees, right?" she asked.

"You got all that from just looking at me?" He was impressed and stepped closer, running a hand along the dusty shelves. He frowned at the dust coating his fingers. "You really are psychic."

Vivian giggled. "No, I've been to one of your shows. You're very good."

"Hmmm, well, tell that to the producers we've played for." he said, sitting across from her.

"Long way from home, aren't you, Davy?"

Davy furrowed his eyebrows. "Oh, um, yes, miss."

"Manchester?" Vivian said, shuffling her Tarot cards with slightly shaky hands. It was a way of keeping her busy as she was trying to quit smoking. She smiled. "You're here because of your mother."

"How did you know all that?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow. "How do you know my name?"

She laughed. "Do you believe I'm psychic or not?"

"Oh, alright then, I believe you." he sighed in defeat. "There's no use in arguing with someone who can predict my future. You know what I'm going to say, don't you?"

"I don't know that much." Vivian amended. "You're giving me too much credit. I know the general things, the easy to read things."

"You're not a con artist, are you?" Davy questioned, eying her suspiciously. She sighed. This boy was absolutely impossible.

"If it weren't for the fact that I knew you were a Capricorn, I would assume you're a Gemini - you keep jumping to different conclusions!" she said, shaking her head. "Give me your hand."

He frowned; she sighed once more, but sadly - his frown made him look like a child, like one that needed to be protected. "Why?" he demanded, hard doubt written on his features.

"If you want to know the truth, give me your hand." she said patiently, holding out hers for him to take. He glanced at her hands cautiously, then reluctantly gave her his. She smiled and grasped his tightly.

"So the truth, Miss?"

"And nothing but." Vivian promised. She closed her eyes and saw inklings of his memories flashing through her mind, only droplets here and there, but clear enough. There were some golden ones - they shined through, mainly of him and three other boys. Horses raced through her vision, and she could smell the hay in a barn and the sweat of a young boy - she felt the freedom. There were dark ones, stained with black and misfortune - they sent a shiver down her spine. He appeared to be tired and damaged; heartbroken, still on the road to being mended. She opened her eyes and stared deeply into his; she expected him to shift uncomfortably, but he only stared back with as much feeling as she was.

"Your mother died when you were fourteen." His eyes widened, then began to water. Her grip grew tighter in comfort. "You lost all interest in school, in family, so you became an apprentice jockey. You left after a certain period and moved to the United States. For a while, you were struggling to make it by until you found the Monkees."

"Still am struggling." he corrected, looking down. "But I'd rather struggle with friends than on my own."

An oblique force tugged her conscious, wrapping her thoughts into a crazed gift of new knowledge. It was strong, pulling her like the moon shifting the tides; she closed her eyes once more to get a better look at a gray hand entering her line of sight, taking her by the brain and squeezing life into it - the vitality of a spirit. "Pineapple upside-down cake," Vivian abruptly said, eyes shooting open to stare into his.

"W-what?" he stuttered, brown eyes wide, his face turning a shade whiter. "What did you say?"

"That means something to you, doesn't it?" she asked, leaning closer. "It's your mother, isn't it?"

Davy yanked his hands away from hers and stood up, backing away. "It was her favorite dessert - our favorite dessert. It was a treat - when we had the money, she made it. Was she trying to give me a sign?"

Vivian stood up and placed her Tarot cards on a shelf. "It means she wants you to know she's always watching over you. She misses you, Davy."

He appeared to be dazed, stunned, and so he only nodded at her, stumbling toward the door, almost knocking down her trumpet. She knew he was frightened, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything, so she watched him walk to the door. Just as he was about to leave, however, he turned around, mouth open to say something.

But she knew what he wanted. "My name's Vivian," she grinned. "Vivian Evelina."

"How did you -" he stopped, then laughed lightly. "Oh, never mind."

She had never heard such a wonderful sound in all her life. As she tidied up, she knew she shouldn't fret - he would return. It was too close to home for him now not to. He was finally getting the answers he wanted.

***Wow! I'm actually updating! Thank you all who have read this story. I deeply appreciate it. One day I'll go back and edit and flesh it out, but this is what it is for now. I hope you're enjoying it!***