Star Signs

I don’t know his name, but we grew into a comfortable sort of friendship. They were guided encounters. Every six months, I ran into him in the city, always on a train platform. And every six months, he had something to share with me about my life. Always vague. The first two times I saw him, I ran, but by the third time I saw him, I gave in. “Excellent,” he sighed. “Finally.” I said nothing. “I need to know your birthday and the time you were born,” which OF COURSE he did. “And … your name,” he added. I never believed in astrology until astrology believed in me. That’s how most things in my life work. I trust in myself until the world says otherwise. I call it The Reality Check. Astrology was my Reality Check. He said he wanted to know my birth chart. I gave him my information and when I saw him again and again and again, he kept me abreast of my past and my future. I could sense when I would see him again, even though it was never in the same place twice. Something pure and even safe radiated off of him. I felt protected. Chicago is vast. Quiet is possible here, even downtown, even on busy, riotous avenues. But if he was near, I felt okay.

I trust in myself until the world says otherwise.

"Don't worry," he began. "You'll bounce back." "From what?" I asked. He didn't say. Later, I lost my job. I normally took the bus home, but after leaving my old office building for the last time, I wanted to see if he would be there. I walked up and down the platform and rode the train around the loop, peeking my head out at every stop. But I did not see him again, not until that summer. "I've been thinking about you," he said. "Thinking what?" I asked. He paused, then said, "It's not over, but you'll be okay." Like always, he was right.