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?
“Are you okay?” Jinx asked.
I nodded. “I’m just absorbing.”
“I understand. I went through the same thing when my telepathic gift started to manifest. I was thirteen at the time. At least you have someone like me to help you.” Her mouth twisted into a troubled frown.
“Is that why you’re being so nice to me? Because you went through it alone?”
“That’s one of the reasons,” she replied, setting the heavy book down on top of a pile of fashion magazines. “I also couldn’t sit back and watch you deal with everyone else’s grief on top of your own. That’s way too much for one girl to handle.”
I recalled my mother holed up in her bed and how crippling it was on me to go near her.
“What was it like for you? I mean when you started reading minds. Did you think you were going crazy?”
A shadow covered her eyes and I felt a slight ripple of emotion emanate off of her. Now that I knew the wave of sadness wasn’t coming from me, I could almost track the source back to Jinx. It made me wonder if I would be able to trace emotions to specific people in crowds.
From the expression on her face, I figured her story must be difficult to think about. What felt like a cool breeze blowing from Jinx’s direction tickled my arms, but when I looked down, the light hairs didn’t so much as tremble. The wind wasn’t physical. My belly tensed with a sadness that I didn’t understand. After a long time, she began to speak in a voice, barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t think I was crazy, but everyone else did. My mother passed away when I was only three…breast cancer…so I lived with my father and step-mother.”
She tugged on the tight springs of her hair as she spoke. “I figure it must have been puberty which brought my abilities out. That happens to some people. Sometimes, the opposite happens. A child will be psychically sensitive and then begin repressing it in puberty. Anyway, that’s when I really began to notice it with me. It came on gradually. You know, I’d think someone said my name when no one did. I’d answer a question that hadn’t been asked aloud. It really freaked people out. The kids at school started to distance themselves from me. My step-mother, who never cared for me to begin with, would complain to my father, saying he had to do something with me and that I gave her the creeps. When I tried to explain to them what I was experiencing, Millicent —that’s my step-mother —convinced my father that I needed psychiatric care.”
My stomach began to tighten with anger. This time I could sort of tell that it wasn’t coming from me. Jinx closed her eyes for a moment. The ripples of frustration evaporated, replaced by a soft calm. She continued.
“I spent my high school years in and out of mental institutions.” Her shoulders shook from an involuntary shudder. “I had to get a GED, because sitting in a classroom was too difficult for me. I wasn’t as good at blocking thought feeds as I am now, and that made it hard to concentrate on the teachers.”
Flashes of that emotional tornado from earlier popped into my head. Would I have to go through that every day until I graduated? What about college?
Jinx continued, “It was when I was staying in a group home in Oklahoma that I met another girl, Bridget, who also was a telepath and, like me, whose parents sent her away. The difference was Bridget’s abilities were far more advanced than mine. She helped me by teaching me blocking techniques and how to focus on specific thought feeds. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”
“What happened to her… to Bridget?” I asked.
“She’s married to an insurance agent and has three kids. They live in Atlanta or Macon or someplace like that. But in order for Bridget to live a normal life, she has almost completely given up her abilities. She’s been blocking everything for so many years now she can’t take the blocks off any more. Only rarely will a word or a phrase break through, and only from someone who is an extremely strong broadcaster.”
I brightened. “That’s great! You mean I can learn to block this out completely? You have to teach me! When do we get started?”
Jinx frowned and the crease between her brows deepened like a swollen river. “Cady, be careful to weigh all of your options before you decide to do something like that. Our abilities are gifts, and your gift is a part of you. Never be quick to give up a piece of yourself.”
“Right,” I said with a shrug. “I get to be the psychic equivalent of an emotional dumping ground and will probably end up as a suicidal alcoholic. Nope. The sooner I can block this stuff the better.”
She didn’t look very happy, but seemed resigned to let it go for now. Instead, she picked up one of
those long candle lighters and began flicking it, watching the tiny licks of flame.
“So, what happened after you gained control over your abilities?” I asked. “Did your parents let you come home?”
“No,” she replied with a sigh. “You see, my father is very…prominent. Back in the early eighties, he built a large technology company from the ground up and it was very successful. By the time I was eighteen, he and Millicent and their kids were like this big happy family where I just didn’t fit anymore. Besides, Father was starting to get interested in politics. The last thing a politician needs is a crazy daughter running around ruining his image.”
“So, what did you do then?”
Jinx inhaled deeply through her nose and let it out with a whoosh through her mouth blowing out the weak tongue of flame. She dropped the lighter back down on the end table. “Honestly? He bought me off.”
“What do you mean?”
“My father set me up with a large trust fund under the condition that I disappear.”
“Are you serious?”
She shrugged with one shoulder. “It’s not like we were close anyway. He worked constantly when I was growing up, and I never saw him. Millicent couldn’t stand me and didn’t want me around her kids. I figured I would just go off and start my own life, so I moved to Dubuque. The end.”
I thought about my own parents and what it would be like without them. Sure, things were strained in my family now, but no matter what happens I know they love me. Whether they would believe that I’m an empath or not is another story. My mother is intensely skeptical about all things that can’t be proven scientifically. My father might be more receptive, but it’s hard to say.
“So, you just, like, live off your trust fund? Or do you work?” I asked.
“I never touch that money if I don’t have to,” she said with a tone that implied that money was tainted. “I live off of my gifts. I’m a life consultant.”
“A what?”
“A life consultant, a therapist. I got my degree in counseling through an online program and now I meet with people who are having problems and give them advice.”
Arcadia's Gift (Arcadia Trilogy) Page 11
