by SM Reine
My belly fluttered. Should I be worried here?
“Don’t worry,” she said.
I began to wonder if my thoughts were being broadcast in a cartoon bubble over my head.
“Cady, I know what you are going through.”
Oh, so that was it! Jinx must have had a sibling pass away or something and she wanted to comfort me like Bryan had. Made sense.
“So, did your sister die also?” I asked.
“Humph! Not hardly. She lives in Boca Raton and works as an investment banker. Not dead, but not much of a life either. No, I mean I know what is happening to you …emotionally.”
“That’s not hard to guess. My twin died. I feel like crap.”
Jinx shook her head. I could tell she was going somewhere with this, but hesitated to explain it to me. “No, it’s more than that. Tell me about school. How did you feel when you were around all of those other students?”
A flush spread across my face, and I darted my gaze out the window. I recalled the tornado of emotions. Could that be what she was referring to? If so, how did she know?
“Okay,” she sighed. “Let go about this a bit differently. I have this…talent…I guess. Have you ever heard of telepathy?”
“Like communicating through minds?” I snorted skeptically.
“Yeah! See, I can read people’s thoughts.”
Terrified at the idea that what this woman was saying might be true, I tensed up, wrinkling my brow.
“Whoa!” Jinx laughed, touching her fingers to her temples. “You’re a strong little thing! I can feel you trying to block me. I bet you don’t even know you’re doing it.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “No, that’s not possible. People can’t read minds!”
“Oh, no? How is it that I know about the torment you went through this week at school?”
“It was my first day back, of course it was going to be tormenting!” I yelled without meaning to. I jumped up to my feet.
The little dog was startled by my sudden movement. He hopped down from the table and waddled over next to her chair like a guard dog. Yeah, the curly hair flopping in his eyes was terrifying.
“Wait, Cady,” she said, reaching out to me. “Please sit. You promised to hear me out. I haven’t even gotten to the part about you.”
My knees locked in place. I didn’t want to sit.
“Look, I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, but I really can’t deal with crazy right now.” I slid my arms into the shoulder straps on my bag and headed for the door.
Jinx shot to her feet, but didn’t try to stop me from leaving. She just twisted her fingers together in frustration.
“Okay,” she said, “leave if you want. But I want you to think about something.”
I stopped in the doorway holding the screen door open, not turning around to face her.
“When your sister died, remember how you felt it? I mean really felt what was happening to her? Remember what you saw in that moment?” When I didn’t answer she continued. “Come back to see me when you’re ready to know what happened.”
I walked out quickly, allowing the screen door to slam shut behind me.
Chapter 17
The rhythm of my soles slapping the pavement in time to my breath had the power to relax me like nothing else. In the weeks since returning to school, I’d settled into a routine —school, work, jog, homework, bed.
The emotional storm of school wasn’t abating. If anything, it seemed to be getting worse. Sitting in class felt like being tugged in ten different directions. Twice I’d had teachers keep me after class, their looks of pity only slightly hidden under concern. Of course, I couldn’t tell them anything. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Mr. MacLeod, my physiology teacher even suggested I drop his class and try it again next year. I’d missed a ton of labs, and no matter how much I studied, I couldn’t concentrate enough to memorize all of the Latin terms. I finally gave in and stopped by my guidance counselor’s office to sign the drop forms. Of course it was too late for me to get into anything else, so I was assigned to a study hall for fifth period.
I rounded the corner of my street and slowed to a brisk walk. My breath sawed in and out of my chest through my mouth, and I used a cotton bandana tucked in the pocket of my jogging pants to wipe the sweat from my forehead. The autumn evening air caressed my damp skin, dotting my arms with goose bumps. From between the dwellings I could see Jinx’s house, lights blazing in every room as if she had guests. For weeks I’d been telling myself that the woman was a fake, a charlatan looking to pull something over on the poor grieving girl. But then I’d find myself wondering about the possibility that she was telling the truth. Other than the little bit I mentioned to the doctor in the hospital, I hadn’t told anyone about actually feeling Lony’s death, about seeing it through her eyes. There had to be a logical explanation for how Jinx knew all this, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what it was.
So I did the only thing I could do —I took to the Internet. For weeks I’d read everything I could find on the subject of telepathy. At first, I only found websites advertising psychics and fortune tellers who would answer your questions for a price. My only experience with psychics happened at the Dubuque County Fair a couple summers ago when Lony talked me into getting my tarot cards read. All the woman told me was that I needed to work hard in school in order to get ahead in life. Duh! I could tell better fortunes than that. I can’t remember Lony’s fortune, but I’m sure it mentioned nothing about her early death.
After weeding through the fakes and weirdoes, I came across websites that included scientific studies and testimonials about telepathic experiences. To my surprise, a fair number of scientists believed communicating with the mind was real. There was even a doctor down at the University of Iowa Hospital, Dr. Ulrika Helbo, who had done actual studies and written books on the subject. I spent part of an evening reading different papers and things that she had published in medical journals. She basically believed that humans were born with ten senses. In addition to the five physical senses of touch, sight, smell, hearing and taste, there are five senses of the soul —intuition, peace, foresight, trust, empathy. She claims telepathy is simply a manifestation of our sense of intuition.
In an article in The New England Journal of Medicine, Dr. Helbo sighted evidence that early humans used the power of the mind and energy to transmit information, much the same way our other senses work. But as humans evolved, they began relying more on the other five senses, allowing the others to go dormant, like an appendix or something. Interesting stuff, and she had a lot of documentation to back up her theories, but I was a believe-it-when-I-see-it kind of girl.
Standing on the sidewalk sweating, I gazed at Jinx’s house and wondered if I should just give her a chance to explain. After a moment of staring, I decided to try a little experiment. I balled up the damp bandana and stuffed it back in my pocket. I walked around to my back yard where I took a seat on a wicker patio chair. I knitted my brow and concentrated on her kitchen door. Jinx, can you hear me? This is Cady. I’m in the backyard. If you can hear me, I’m ready to talk.
A moment passed.
And then another.
Maybe I was out of her range. Or maybe she’s just a fake.
I was silently chastising myself for my stupidity when Jinx popped out her door, grinning so big even in the dimness I could see the full row of her teeth.
“Cady!” she called out waving. “Sorry, I was on the phone.”
Shock pinned me to my spot, preventing me from answering. She heard me. She really heard me!
Jinx waited patiently by the fence separating our yards while I processed. After a minute, I got up and walked toward her.
“Believe me now?” she asked without a hint of I-told-you-so in her voice.
I lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know.”
Jinx nodded. “Fair enough. Want to come over and talk?”
“Is now a good time? I mean, it looks like you
have company or something.”
She glanced back to her house to see what I was seeing. “Oh, no. I just have a bad habit of not turning lights off when I leave rooms. Not very green, I know!”
“Well, let me take a shower, then I’ll be over.”
Twenty minutes later, I was standing on my neighbor’s stoop with wet hair and a hollow feeling in my stomach from skipping supper.
“Come in,” Jinx said, with the door held open for me.
The living room was the same chaos of clutter that I’d seen before, but with the soft light emanating from the mismatched table lamps and a few candles, it was homier this time. The strong scent of sandalwood drifted up in wisps of smoke from an incense cone on the coffee table. From his bed, the dog lifted his head so he could peek at me from under his bangs.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks,” I replied, sitting down on the edge of the couch.
“Thank you for coming back,” she said with an understanding smile, before taking a seat across from me.
I pressed my lips together. I didn’t know how to start or even why I was there. I guess when people drop the bomb on you that they are psychic, it piques your curiosity.
“I’m not saying I believe you or anything,” I started, “but you must have had a reason for telling me about your…” I couldn’t say it. It was all too ridiculous.
“I know how this sounds to you,” Jinx said with a sigh. “I always have this problem when I tell people I’m a telepath. Most think I’m a fake, that I must be secretly Googling them in order to act like I can read their thoughts. But honestly, this isn’t a parlor trick. I wish I could escape it sometimes.”
“Well, like I said, I’m not saying I buy into this, but I want to hear more. Can you like…talk to me without speaking?”
“No, the connection only works one way. I can hear thoughts of others, but I can’t send messages back.”
“Convenient,” I replied. Her claim would be easy to prove if she could communicate something to me.
“No, actually it’s not convenient. It’s damn frustrating sometimes.”
She obviously didn’t pick up on my sarcasm.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.
Jinx unfolded her legs and leaned forward, focusing a serious gaze on me.
“I’m telling you this in order for you to understand how it is I know certain things about you.”
A chill ran through me. “So you can hear my thoughts even when I’m all the way over at my house?”
“I have about a three block range. Give or take depending on how strong the person is broadcasting.”
I pictured our neighborhood with its rows of houses. Three blocks in every direction would include not only houses, but a gas station, a Catholic church and the small strip mall on Asbury Road…even the high school athletic fields and parking lot.
“That’s a lot of people.”
She sighed and frowned. “I know. I can tune most of it out now, but the buzz is always there, like background noise. I have to actually pay attention to focus in on a particular voice. Some people transmit more clearly than others. Their emotional state also makes a difference. If a person is calm, their thoughts are quieter, but if they are upset or excited, the thoughts can be loud enough to wake me from a sound sleep.”
“So when Lony died…”
She nodded. “Yeah. Your household practically has its own channel now. Your brother is the worst.”
“Seriously? I would have thought that would be my mother.”
“No. Your mother is sad and having a hard time, but her thoughts are muddled with intoxicants. She sleeps a lot, and I don’t pick up on dreams too clearly. But your brother isn’t sleeping much at all. He’s really suffering deeply.”
I never would’ve guessed. Aaron always acted so aloof.
“What about me? I assume that’s what you wanted to talk to me about.”
Jinx took a deep breath in and out as if buying time to weigh her words. “You are also suffering, obviously, but you’re stronger than they are. You’re pulling through it well. You’re lucky that you have such nice friends to support you.”
I didn’t say anything. My mind ticked through the last few weeks wondering what things this woman might have eavesdropped on. I still didn’t really believe her. Psychics are fake, right? I decided to test her again to be sure. I plastered what I hoped would be a neutral expression on my face, relaxed, and then shouted with my thoughts, Stand up!
Jinx hopped to her feet, sending the little dog scurrying under the coffee table. “Like this?” she asked.
My jaw fell open. “Y-you heard me!”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course I did! You yelled at me! Can I sit again?”
I nodded.
“Any other experiments you want to try? Guess what number you’re thinking or something?”
I shook my head no.
“Okay, then.” She scooped the dog up and set him on her lap, threading her fingers through his tiny curls. “So, the reason I wanted to talk to you is because I noticed something going on with you that you are not aware of yet.”
“If I’m not aware of it, how would you know? I can’t be thinking of it.” I was trying to sound like a smart ass, but the shakiness in my voice betrayed me.
“You’re not thinking of it, but I recognize the signs and feel an obligation to tell you.”
“Okay…”
“During your sister’s accident, you know how you saw the whole thing through her eyes? How you felt like it had been happening to you?”
The blood drained from my face. I did not want to talk about this.
Jinx continued on. “And you know how when you go near your mother, you suddenly get depressed, even if a few minutes earlier you were just fine?”
I barely nodded. How could she know this stuff? There had to be another explanation.
“And at school, you feel a jumble of emotions...more than the usual teenage girl mood swings.”
She was right. The things I’d been feeling in the past few weeks hadn’t been normal. Maybe some of it could have been explained by Lony’s death, but when I added it all together, something wasn’t right.
“What’s happening to me?” I whispered.
Jinx set the dog aside and knelt in front of me, folding my hands in both of hers. “You’ve heard that twins have psychic connections, right?”
“Yeah. Lony and I used to dream the same dreams sometimes when we were little…”
“And you have probably heard about auras before too, right? The psychic energy field that surrounds us? Some people can see them. I can’t, but some can.”
I nodded.
“Well, when your sister died, your auras connected…they reached out to each other. I’ve heard of it happening before. That’s how you could feel what your sister experienced in those last moments.”
I let that explanation sink in. The doctors at the hospital wondered how I was able to experience physical shock when I should have only felt an emotional one.
Jinx continued, “After the accident, your aura was stretched. It didn’t go back to its normal shape around you.”
“My aura is broken? What does that mean?”
“It means that whenever people enter your aura range, you can feel their emotions.”
I considered all of the strange emotions I’d had that week. My mother made me depressed. Being around Bryan calmed me down. Being in a classroom filled with hormonal teenagers sent me in circles.
“So…so I’m psychic?”
“No, honey. You’re an empath.”
Chapter 18
“Empath…” I whispered, feeling the word on my tongue.
Jinx hopped up and retrieved a book from her stuffed shelf. “Let me show you.”
As she flipped to the table of contents and located the section she was searching for, I checked out the title of the book. The Guide to Modern Psychic Phenomena by C. C. Knight, PhD.
“Here we go,” she said as she moved to the couch next to me, so I could follow along as she read aloud. “‘An empath is someone who is sensitive to the psychic energy and vibrations of others. Because emotions are charged with life energy, the empath experiences the emotions as their own. When the emotions are positive, this can be beneficial to the receiver; however, when the emotions are negative, the receiver is in danger of depression, bouts of rage and exhaustion. Empaths have been known to turn to drugs or alcohol as coping mechanisms. Many admit to having thoughts of suicide.’”
“What!” I interrupted. “I’m going to want to kill myself over this?”
Jinx shushed me and continued reading.
“‘The best way for an empath to combat these negative symptoms is by first, recognizing the difference between genuine emotions and those that are imposed on them, and secondly, by surrounding themselves with positive people. Some empaths claim to be able to block the emotional energy of others, and even convert negative energy into positive and channel it back to the sender, thus improving the emotional health of the sender…’”
Jinx closed the book and gave me a pat on the knee. “Cady, I know a woman, Sophia Blackwell, who is also an empath. When I began noticing the symptoms in your thoughts, I called her for advice. She has learned how to develop and control her gift, and has given me some suggestions on how I might be able to help you do the same. Sophia would love to help you herself, but she is getting up there in age and lives out in Sedona, Arizona. Traveling here is not really an option for her now.”
I didn’t say anything for a long moment while I let it all sink in. It wasn’t that I doubted the existence of psychic energy, in theory. What I had trouble with was the idea that I had any psychic ability. While I basically had a healthy self-image, I never really thought there was anything special about me. I had no other real talents: I was cute, but not beautiful; smart, but not a genius; well liked, but not popular. I was as middle of the road as a teen girl can be. Why would God or fate or the cosmos or whatever decide to give this ability to me?
