Red Dress

by Bridget Finklaire

  Katy stepped into a large, tiled hallway as Lavinia opened her arms, embracing her as if she were a close friend.

  “Coffee?”

  “Do you have tea?”

  “Earl Grey or English Breakfast?”

  “Earl Grey please!”

  “Come on through. Make yourself comfortable. I won’t be long. The kettle’s almost boiled.”

  Katy sank into a wicker conservatory chair overflowing with plump, leaf-motif cushions. This must be her consulting room, she thought, taking in the light, airy space with its white shelves and glass coffee table. Cream walls were the perfect foil for heavy green foliage and floral displays – cheese plants, rubber plants, ferns, an exotic looking red flower, a miniature powder-pink rose and a variegated purple orchid in full bloom. There was a small aquarium on one side, with bright, neon fish darting about among fronds of weed. The French windows opposite opened onto a huge lawn which stretched towards a copse of mature trees beyond.

  “Earl Grey,” said Lavinia, bustling in with a smile and setting a tray down on the coffee table. She poured into old-fashioned cups, complete with saucers, from an ornate gilt-edged teapot. “Sugar?”

  “No thanks, just as it comes.”

  “These are the bottles,” she said, sipping at her tea and motioning towards a huge white bookcase. She flicked a switch at the side and its glass shelves lit up, illuminating 108 bottles sitting in neat, serried rows. Katy stared at the display, mouth open, an uneasy feeling rising inside. Richard was going to laugh like a drain, if he ever found out!

  Lavinia picked up a clipboard and a slim, gold, ballpoint. “Let’s get the nitty-gritties out of the way. Full name?”

  “Actually, I’ve recently changed it back to my maiden name – Katherine Alison Fralinski.”

  “Ah! That’s why you’re here,” said Lavinia, softly raising her eyebrows. “You need to ground the vibration of your new name.”

  “But I had it before...”

  “Not purposefully, as part of your path!” Her head bobbed up from the page as she looked at Katy. “I can tell you’re spiritual through and through, you’re like a stick of Brighton Rock!” She was waving the pen at her.

  “You’ve been sent here, Katherine!”

  Katy uncrossed her legs and sat forward, shifting in her seat, absent-mindedly checking her handbag while Lavinia waxed lyrical about Aura Soma and spirit guides, Archangels and chakras.

  “What you need to do now, Katy, is take a look at all the bottles and choose four,” said Lavinia, motioning with her pen towards the shelf. “Choose the ones that you’re drawn to – the ones that speak to you. It’s not about guessing what they mean or going for your favorite colors.”

  Katy furrowed her brow and stared at the shelves.

  “Just allow yourself to be guided,” said Lavinia, a kind smile lighting up her face.

  Trying to ignore the doubts that were creeping in and the voice that was telling her it was nonsense – was it Richard’s or Father’s? – Katy stood up. She’d come a long way, and not just the distance from London! Shanti had been proud of her accepting angels as things that really existed, seeing extraordinary healings as part of everyday life, reading authors who professed to be having conversations with God. She’d baulked at Shanti’s insistence that there were people who’d lived past lives on other planets, but that was Shanti. She’d believe anything. What about this? Bottles of colored oil and water which were going to help her if she chose the right ones. Was it for real, or was she just being gullible?

  “It’s okay!” said Lavinia, breaking the silence, “I can sense you’re torn. That’s what happens when you change your name. You’re pulled two ways!”

  Katy was indeed torn; part of her was excited and intrigued, while the other wanted to laugh and dismiss the whole silly charade. She was normally decisive, sure of herself, in control of her own mind, but recently she’d been flustered, baffled and doubtful. “I feel a bit overwhelmed!” said Katy, her heart beating, her mouth becoming dry. Sipping at her Earl Grey and collecting her thoughts, she spoke deliberately. “I usually pick things straight away, but...”

  “I know. It’s okay. Take your time, my dear.”

  Katy took a long, slow breath and ran her gaze along the shelves of colored jewels, her eyes darting from side to side. Getting things right had been her hallmark, but she didn’t know what ‘right’ looked like at the moment. Clenching her hands slightly and holding her breath, she started second-guessing. I can’t afford to get this wrong, she thought, stepping towards the shelves and opening her palm to sense the bottles.

  “Don’t touch them!”

  “Oh! Sorry!” Katy could feel her cheeks burning as she backed off. Her eyes widening, her mind trying not to think of what the hues might mean, she ran her palm a distance away from the shelf, trying to sense the energy, and at last picking out seven bottles. She could whittle it down later.

  “Is that the order you chose them in?”

  “Oh,” Katy’s eyebrows shot up as she took a step back. “I didn’t realize that was important.” Come on, Katy, she told herself, how difficult can it be to pick out four colors in order of preference! It’s not rocket science and your life doesn’t depend on it. Just do it.

  “It’s a huge undertaking,” said Lavinia, taking off her spectacles and letting them dangle on a gold chain around her neck.

  “Choosing four bottles?”

  “No dear! Changing your name!” The frames were resting on her salmon, cashmere sweater as she spoke. “Your name is your vibration and it takes a lot of grounding.”

  “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “It’s got to come through you, like a signal coming through a radio. It’s going to alter the course of your life!”

  “Oh!” Katy had a dream-like sense that none of this was actually happening.

  “In the beginning was the Word, you see?”

  Katy shot her a puzzled look.

  “Words are vibrations and they carry codes, sounds, colors, shapes and energies – do you get the enormity of it? This name is going to reset you, recode you – put you on a new path.”

  Katy hadn’t thought of it that way. Clearly, she hadn’t thought it through at all. “I can’t even choose four bottles in the right order!” she said, fumbling with her left earring. Lavinia carefully lifted each of the seven bottles by the cap, bringing them forward to the front of the shelf where they stood proud of the others.

  “Now. Stand back. Breathe. Go intuitively – the very first thing that pops into your head before you start overthinking.”

  Katy stared at the seven bottles, trying to clear her head of conflicting chatter, swallowing her embarrassment, and wishing she knew what to do. Lavinia must think she was stupid. She stepped forward to push one of the bottles back.

  “No!” shrieked Lavinia. “Don’t touch! Lift them by the cap, or you’ll imprint your energy.”

  Noticing Katy’s worried expression as she whipped her hand back, she added, “Sorry to shout, dear, just so important!”

  Katy carefully lifted one of the bottles by the lid, watching the oily layer moving over the watery one, dividing the bottle horizontally, no matter at what angle it was tilted. There was something satisfying and captivating about it. Most of the bottles had two distinct hues but some, she noticed, had the same top and bottom, the oily layer looking richer. Which was she supposed to choose, and in what order? For God’s sake, it was only a bottle of colored water! It couldn’t be that important, could it? Somehow it was. Carefully placing the bottle back in line with the others, she’d made her first decision. She let go of the breath she’d been holding. But what if she’d made a mistake?

  “It’s okay. Take your time!” said Lavinia, clasping her hands loosely together, her brightly varnished nails settling among her gold, jeweled rings.

  It was a slow and painful process, like being stuck in a supermarket queue with a trainee cashier. Katy chewed her bottom lip, closed her eyes, and op
ened them again. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she eventually turned around to face the garden, then spun back, her eyes catching a lime green and magenta bottle. She lifted it by the cap, setting it back in line with its neighbors, before changing her mind and snatching it back. Lavinia intervened, taking all six bottles in her manicured fingers and placing them on a small white table to the left. Katy watched, as she absent-mindedly turned her bracelet around and around. “I’m sorry! I’m not usually like this! I’m wasting your time, perhaps...”

  “Not at all!” said Lavinia, a warmth exuding from her pale-grey eyes as they wrinkled at the corners.

  Katy gave a feeble smile. “Take that one away, the black and jade.”

  Five bottles remained on the table.

  “Two of these are similar. They both make pale olive if you shake them, see?” She demonstrated. “We’ll take that as one bottle. You’re going to work with them both at the same time. Now, which was the first that caught your eye?”

  Katy struggled to place them in order while Lavinia slid her glasses back onto her face and peered at the bottles in front of her. At last, they were in order.

  A torrent of information poured forth from Lavinia. “Hang on! I need to write this down,” said Katy, reaching inside her bag for a small notebook and pen.

  Lavinia told Katy the name of each bottle, its number, what the number meant, what the bottle was going to do, why she’d chosen it, what it said about Katy, how to apply each one and when to apply it. Then she elaborated on which Angel or Master she’d be working with, which chakra it would be healing, which order they must go in and why. It was a stream of consciousness which Lavinia said had ‘come through her from her guides’. Katy was struggling to get it all down and forgot to be skeptical. It was a mesmerizing monologue and she did her best to nod in the right places. Lavinia finally stopped and took off her glasses, letting them hang over her pale-pink bosom.

  “Take them all and start with the two green ones – in fact, put them on right now and then again at bedtime.”

  “Do I keep going till it’s all gone or do I rotate them?”

  “One at a time. Don’t go onto the second until you’ve completed the first. You might need another bottle if you’re not quite finished!”

  “How will I know when I’ve finished?”

  “Oh, you’ll know! You might even finish before the bottle’s empty!”

  “What do you mean when you say ‘finish’?”

  “The bottle will have done its job.”

  Great, thought Katy, her mind searching for something more solid. How would she know when it had done its job?

  Lavinia picked up on her thoughts “Your intuition will tell you. Move on when you intuitively know the bottle’s done. Now, let’s pack these up for you. That’ll be £250, please, dear.”

  Blimey, I hope it works, thought Katy, counting out the cash from her purse.

  “Oh! I almost forgot – you need to take an SRT course, Spiritual Response Therapy, they’re telling me it’ll help you clear the blockages!”

  “They?”

  “My guides!”

  “What blockages?”

  “They didn’t say, but I can recommend a brilliant teacher! She’s in Brighton – Jane Joyheart – she heads up the UK and I’ve worked with her before.”

  I wonder what she changed her name from, thought Katy, probably something perfectly ordinary, like Smith.

  By the time she’d arrived home, Katy was craving the color green. Out went the uniform of black, navy and cream, and in came a dark olive jacket she hadn’t worn in ages.

  That evening she spent an hour going through her wardrobe, retrieving anything olive, sage or forest – and digging out an old pea-green yoga top she’d bought in the sale and never worn. It had always been a shade too green, but now it was perfect. Taking off the olive jacket, she replaced it with a bottle-green hoodie over the pea-green yoga vest.

  “Just checking emails and I’ll be with you,” she called to Richard, who was laughing at something on the television.

  Upstairs in the office, she opened the laptop and stole another look at the enquiry form from last week. She ought to have replied by now, but something had stopped her. She deliberated again. A note from Shanti caught her attention instead.

  Hi Katy

  How’s the name change going? Just been chatting with a customer about an amazing training. Thought of you immediately! You’d love it! SRT. There’s a woman in Brighton who teaches basic and advanced – Joyheart – Look her up!

  I’m off to Richmond Park next Sunday if you want to join me?

  Love

  Shanti xx

  There wasn’t much point in hanging around for a third mention. Katy tapped ‘SRT Brighton Joyheart’ into the search bar. It came up immediately: Jane Joyheart, SRT, Spiritual Response Therapy – Teacher, Consultant and Practitioner. The website was green, she noticed as she wrote the phone number into her diary.

  Hi Shanti

  All going okay with the name. I’ll call Jane Joyheart tomorrow. Found her number online. Can’t make Richmond Park – spending time with Richard. You know how he is! Enjoy!

  Love

  Katy xx

  Richard’s voice was booming up the stairs. “Where are you, Kit?”

  “Coming!” She hurriedly closed the laptop before skipping down three flights of stairs.

  “Blimey – what are you wearing?”

  “I’m working with this Aura Soma stuff and I feel compelled to wear green.”

  Richard screwed up his nose.

  “I’m sure it’ll pass,” she added.

  “I bloody hope so!”

  Katy was restless. Richard had been asleep for hours as she dipped in and out, her mind jumbled, the bedding twisted as she struggled to find repose. At around 3 am, she rolled onto her back, opened her eyes, and stared up at the ceiling.

  “You’ll get there!”

  “Shhh!”

  “Richard can’t hear, remember?”

  “I can’t sleep.”

  “Your mind’s ticking over, thinking about the day, the Aura Soma, the SRT.”

  “How do you—”

  “I wanted to talk to you, but you didn’t meditate tonight.”

  “Decided to spend time with Richard.”

  “Guilt?”

  Katy grimaced. “I feel bad. I’ve been away on a lot of courses recently.”

  “They’re old enough to look after themselves you know, Katy.”

  “They might not see it that way.”

  “And what about Richard? Is he not their father?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Isn’t it time you gave to yourself as well as others?”

  “But they’re my family.”

  “And you’ve been there for them.”

  Katy sighed, pulling her hands from beneath the duvet to expose her arms to the cool night air.

  “May I speak with you?”

  “You might as well – I’m wide awake!”

  “Have you ever noticed how one person might struggle with health while another has problems at work and yet another finds relationships the big challenge?”

  “Yes! I see it all the time at work! It depends on what’s buried in the subconscious.”

  “And you’re able to help them understand what they’re blind to?”

  “What’s hidden in the shadow, yes. But it’s always easier to see the solution to somebody else’s problem.”

  “That’s true. But as a therapist, you could observe your own problems and patterns, couldn’t you?”

  “By seeing them mirrored in other people?”

  “Projection is perception. What you see in your clients, you can heal in yourself.”

  Katy stretched her hands out, then clasped them behind her head. “What I’m projecting from inside of me, is mirrored back by the outside. Classic psychotherapy. What’s hidden in my subconscious is there for me to see in my client, or anyone else for that matter.�
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  “Or in the environment. You project out, and the world reflects back. What you see is not reality, but a projection of your version of reality – your perception – of what ‘reality’ is to you.”

  “Some people will see a mouse as a sweet little creature, while others will be terrified of it. It depends on their perception – what they’re projecting from their past experiences, which are buried in the psyche. We’re all looking at life through the lens of our experiences.”

  “Absolutely. And you can get an inkling of what’s buried if you observe what your reactions are. That’s mindfulness, detachment. Watch and don’t act automatically.”

  She lifted herself onto her elbows. “Ah! I see what you mean! If I’m triggered or have a strong reaction to something, it’s telling me about my hidden self?”

  “Good Lord in Heaven above, you’re getting it!”

  “And if I dig a bit deeper, unpack what’s behind the reaction, I’ll be able to see it for what it is.”

  “And once it’s revealed, you can examine it, understand it, look at it in a different light.”

  “Just like therapy, but I’d be both the therapist and the client.”

  “It’s just a matter of noticing what upsets or angers you, then digging beneath to see what’s really causing it.”

  “Rather than what I think has caused it,” she said, lying back on the pillow again.

  “Precisely. But you can only do that if you step back from the emotion. It’s catching the moment between cause and effect, between the trigger and the reaction.”

  Richard turned over in his sleep, letting out a small fart as he went. Katy froze for a moment, watching him carefully in the darkness.

  “He can’t hear us,” the Voice reminded her.

  “Oh yes.”

  “The thing you criticize the most in others, is the thing that tells you more about yourself!”

  “Another effect of the mirror.”

  “And if you can heal it, then next time you’ll have a different reaction! The mouse will be a cute pet.”

  “Which means you’re creating a different reality?”

  “By Adonai, you’re there. You’re already doing it for your clients, and you have the skills to do it for yourself.”