January patted the envelope in the passenger's seat, which she had checked meticulously over the past week, making sure everything was in order. She had taken the year off to work in Texas before applying to grad school for teaching, and was finally done with her application, heading off to the post office to send it in. Dick had asked her where she applied, and she responded, off-handedly, "oh, you know, a bunch of places." She hadn't mentioned, since that night over coffee at The Lily Pad, that she hadn't applied anywhere in Texas.

January put the necklace around her neck, then made sure the clasp was tight. Until she could figure out its origin, she wanted it in a safe place. Pausing a moment to breathe in the lily scent from the air freshener Dick had bought her, January couldn't help but realize that nothing had been quite normal since she had left the house. At least she had gotten her wish; she wasn't waiting for something to happen anymore. The leather interior of the car was scalding January's legs, even through her jeans, so she turned the car on and put the air conditioner on full blast. Before she left the parking lot she considered where she should go next. Home seemed to be the most reasonable option, considering how the day had been going, but there was one more place she needed to stop first.

The last time Dick had slipped something in her purse, it had been a small pistol with a note attached to it, saying to get rid of it down at the Piano Town Dump. Dick was so silly. He had the funniest sense of humor sometimes.She had slyly made her way down there and managed to get every single finger print off of it without anyone taking the least bit of notice. Dick was so proud. That was just his way of getting some action into the relationship, January thought. Maybe that was the reason the other women chose not to trust him, but she enjoyed the adrenaline rush that came with the fear of somehow getting caught for lord knew what. And besides, he made her feel like she was something. Sometimes she felt that way, at least. Other times she felt completely invisible. Like she didnt even exist.
Maybe he was trying to make up this time with the necklace. Or maybe it was stolen.
She fished through her purse looking for one of his characteristic notes, just to make sure, but after emptying out every pen, lotion, feminine product and stray penny, no note could be found. 'How strange,' she thought. 'I wonder where it could have come from...'

The object felt cold in her fingers, tickled. As she lifted it out of her bag she could hear its faint jingle as it grazed against all her other belongings, all the things she actually owned. I don't own this though, January thought, her eyes fixed on the old necklace resting in her palm. She knew it was old by the way the silver refused to shine in the sunlight. There were signs of rust in little patches, as if part of the necklace was a burning orange, and not silver. Maybe it wasn't even supposed to be silver, she thought. Maybe it was just another one of Dick's quirky gifts. January didn't know what to think of it if it was. It was no lily, that was for sure.

Getting back into the car, January had a nagging feeling that she was forgetting something. She checked her bag and felt her pockets to make sure she had everything: keys, cell phone, book, wallet. She often misplaced things and was known to be forgetful, Dick of course reminded her all the time. Digging through her bag, she tried to jog her memory of what she brought out with her in the first place. But just then, her fingers curled around something she hadn't brought with her, something she had never seen before and had no recollection of owning.

The woman walked away, leaving January to continue reading. Though anxious to return to the story, the woman's silly words were running through her head. January couldn't concentrate on the possible death of the turtle because she was becoming increasingly frightened that perhaps the woman was right. And she couldn't really risk the devastation of her entire future, could she?

January looked around, and knew only one thing for certain. Happiness was not going to present itself in The Lily Pad's sad excuse of a coffee shop. So she stuck a napkin in her book to mark her place, then left.

"Oh," January exclaimed. Not knowing what to do or say, as she had never seen this woman in her life, she asked, "Can I help you with something?"
"The real question, my dear, is can I be of help to you?"
January was not impressed. She was tired, upset, forlorn-- in a word, thoroughly delilified. She had no intention of wasting her time talking to a wannabe new-age fairy godmother.
"No thanks. Doing just fine," she said offhandedly and looked back down at her book. Ms.Davis and the English teacher were having an engaging argument that might or might not lead to the death of their long lost pet turtle. And January hated to have her climaxes interrupted.
"You will never find happiness in that book my child, nor with the man you cling to. Happiness will present itself to you in one way in the next twenty four hours. And if you miss it, you will be doomed to devastation for the rest of your life."
January laughed, "I thought people like you were supposed to give out three wishes, not death sentences."
"I'm having a bad day," the woman said.