Messenger Between Worlds

by Kristy Robinett

  I was finally called up (“Kristy … come on down”) to read. Nervous, but excited, as the director handed me the script, I stood in the center of the room, took a deep breath in and out, quickly closed my eyes, and wished for my spirit guides to be with me. Then I opened my eyes and went straight into character. I felt comfortable with my performance, but most of all I was proud that I took the chance. I was shaking so badly and trying not to show it, but after I was done, the audience actually stood up and clapped for me. I think I blushed five shades of red. Micaela also tried out for a singing part. Her overdramatic Leo ways have loved the stage since before she was even three years old.

  I was sitting next to a lady who asked me what part I really wanted, and I told her that I hadn’t acted in quite a while and wasn’t being picky. I just wanted to do something I loved and missed doing. She nodded. After reading a part for the third time, I sat down, and she lovingly patted me on the shoulder and said I was doing great. I asked her what she was trying out for since I hadn’t seen her being called up, and she said, “Oh no, dear, I’m the vice president on the board and helping choose the participants.” The next day, right as I went to punch out at work, my cell phone rang with the news from the director that I had indeed won myself the part of June Stanley and Micaela received a part in the chorus. My smile followed me home to pack boxes for the move that weekend. New beginnings were ahead of me and I couldn’t have been more excited.

  [contents]

  eighteen

  Reset Button

  Our new temporary home was a six-hundred-square-foot, two-bedroom duplex that had been built during the World War II era to help house soldiers when they came home. The entire house was about the same size as the bedroom of my previous home. It felt humiliating to move from the upper-class country home into what was called “Shack Town,” but I would take the worries of crack houses and guns over the abuse I had experienced any day. At any rate, it was only temporary until I found and closed on a home. In the meantime, I kept busy with play practice and activities with the kids, and I finally made that phone call to Josh, the owner of the local metaphysical center, and accepted a part-time position doing readings.

  The kids and I pulled up in front of the store at eight-thirty in the morning the Saturday after moving back to the old side of town. I let out a sigh of relief when I realized I wouldn’t need to parallel park. Since the road was virtually empty of vehicles, I pulled right into a spot.

  The bells jingled as the three of us made our way into the shop. Josh, who was standing at the front counter, broke into a wide smile as soon as he saw me and I instantly felt at ease.

  “I was worried you’d bail on me,” he said.

  “Me? Would I do a thing like that?” I offered an innocent look.

  “The kids can have a seat in the classroom. There’s a television and some comfy chairs and couches and I’ll show you the fun stuff.”

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, after all,” I whimpered pathetically.

  He patted my hand. “You’ll be fine.”

  He had more confidence in me than I had in myself.

  “So,” he asked, “you read tarot cards, right?”

  “No,” I said, beginning to panic. “I’m, I guess, what they refer to as a medium. I talk to the dead and they give me information.”

  “Hmm … ” Josh bit his bottom lip. At that time there weren’t any television shows on that described the differences between a psychic and medium, so I knew he was wondering how he could market me with clients. Grabbing a deck of tarot off the shelf, he handed them to me. “Fake it!”

  “Whhaaa … ?”

  “Not the reading,” he said. “Just fake that the information is coming from the cards. People get nervous with you looking at, er, through them.”

  I nodded, opened the cards, and shuffled. The deck was full of color and characters and they seemed to vibrate in my hands. I could do this. I hoped.

  After showing me the inventory of items, the price lists, and how to work the cash register, he led me to the booth where I’d be doing readings. I just prayed there wouldn’t be any customers.

  No such luck.

  Only a few minutes later, a petite lady in her mid-forties came in, her tan screaming that it was as fake as her personality would later prove to be. I hoped she just wanted to buy some stones, or tea, or maybe a book. Nope, she wanted a reading.

  I rang her up, after making only two mistakes. I had mad cash register skills from my years of working at Kmart as a teenager. I could scan, ring, and bag at an Olympic pace, but the nervousness of the impending reading was taking over. I led her to the back of the shop and had her sit down across from me. It was a barren little nook, but it held a lot of possibility—and it was mine. I couldn’t help but feel excited that I had my own office!

  After thirty minutes of hearing the customer whine about her love life or lack thereof, I escorted her out the door with her taped session and my makeshift business card. I was pretty proud of myself. The reading had gone well, though she really didn’t seem to want to hear what I had to say. It seemed, instead, she’d just wanted someone to talk to. While her spirit guides had come through loud and clear, she made no effort to listen, thus explaining her lack of a love life. Choosing alcoholics and addicts definitely was not what her guides had wanted for her, but she was so desparate to be loved, she was setting her sights so low that it ensured that would be all she would attract.

  I sat down in my chair and pondered the session and immediately felt awful for prejudging her. After all, take away the drugs and alcohol and we had a lot in common. We were both attracting losers, and we were both accepting whatever came along instead of valuing ourselves.

  Maybe this wouldn’t be bad so bad after all, I thought to myself. Doing readings, that is. I was put in this place for a reason, right?

  The past was awful, but it seemed to be granting me the opportunity to change my life and to evolve in a new direction. Happiness would slowly trickle in. When one door closes, another opens, as the saying goes, just like my father had preached to me every time I was having a tough time. This feeling of helping others, of connecting people to the Other Side, felt more powerful and reassuring. No, I hadn’t suddenly become all Pollyanna, and I wasn’t delusional. I was realistic. I knew that not everyone around me would want to open up, and that was understandable. For every person who didn’t believe in me or in this gift, there would be someone else who did and who needed guidance. What is a bittersweet ending without goodbyes and walking away from those things that hadn’t been working in my life anyway, I wondered? I had let life disable me. It was a painful truth. I had to say goodbye to people in my life who were keeping me from happiness and truth, and now it seemed that I was being regifted my gift. I didn’t feel quite so alone.

  The door chimes tinkled once again, snapping me out of deep thought. It was another woman, but this one’s energy was much different from the last. My stomach tightened up, and I felt like I was going to vomit right there on top of the incense. This one was going to be a doozy.

  “Can I help you?” I asked the woman with the mane of bleached blonde hair, all Sex and the City with her hot pink spiked heels and matching purse that I could have sworn I’d seen Paris Hilton don on reruns of The Simple Life. She wore a sassy little dress no longer than the T-shirt I wore, minus a bra. She certainly didn’t scream natural beauty as much as “I paid for this; is it working?” Perhaps I was picking up on her monthly Botox sessions when the first energy I read from her screamed oily snake. I didn’t trust her and neither did my guides.

  “I heard there was a new girl in town,” the stranger said with a condescending smile as she began pawing the merchandise.

  I clenched my jaw. A girl? Little Ms. Tawny Kitaen wannabe was calling me a girl?

  “I’m Kristy. Can I help you?”

  Maybe direct you across the street to Ta
rget, so you can buy some clothes that fit! And a bra to boot, I wanted to advise.

  She went about the shop, continuing to pick up various things here and there with her freshly manicured red nails. My mom used to warn me about women with red nail polish, and I don’t think she would have been too far off with this one. It was obvious she was just being nosy, not really interested in buying anything at all.

  “Can I offer you a reading?” I swore in my head and then asked forgiveness. Josh would pay me damned well for this one.

  “Oh, Josh is the only one that I ever allow to read for me,” she purred.

  I’m sure he was. Men are all the same. I sighed in frustration.

  She walked back over to the counter and looked at me. “Oh, what the heck. It might be fun.”

  As fun as another C-section, minus the bundled-up boun-

  cing baby I got in the end, I thought. Taking her money, and noticing the thick wallet, I couldn’t help but snicker to myself that I wouldn’t have been surprised if she paid me with all singles.

  I led her back to the office.

  “So what training have you had?” she asked, taking a seat across from me.

  “Training?”

  “Training as a medium or psychic, or whatever you are.”

  “I haven’t been trained. I was born this way,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

  She made a noise that sounded a bit like clucking in the back of her throat.

  “Well, I do want my money back if you suck.”

  “Of course,” I said with clenched teeth.

  “I love what you did with the space,” she said dryly, looking at the bare walls.

  “Thanks. It’s the new look that everybody is talking about in Manhattan,” I said with a smile, trying to look and sound convincing. “I call it ghost white.”

  The client made another clucking noise and began playing with her purse strap, reminding me of a kitten.

  “I need you to close your eyes, take a deep breath in, then release your breath and say your full name out loud.”

  She did as I instructed.

  I took a cleansing breath myself, praying that pure light surrounded me.

  My guides flashed images of several men. I mentally begged them not to show me any sexual escapades. “The first thing that the guides are showing me is that you are stringing along several guys at one time.”

  “Duh, look at me. If you were a man, I’m sure you would want this, too.”

  I so wanted to vomit on her.

  “The first man that they show has the energy of a husband. Or ex-husband. He has ethics and truly had good intentions.”

  She nodded.

  “Then they show another man, which I find odd because I feel a similar energy between him and the first. Wait a minute.” I tuned in to the message that I was getting, cocking my head like a dog would, trying to hear clearly. “Are they brothers? No, wait a minute. Are they cousins?”

  Her face turned white. “How did you know?” she whispered.

  Instead of answering, I continued on as her response validated that I was on the right track. “They show a badge around him. Probably a cop. And then … ” I stopped again and looked at her from across the small round table. “You do get around now, don’t you?”

  She looked nervous.

  “Now they show another man. He’s older than the others, but I also get a relationship to the other men.” Was she getting it on with the entire family? I felt like I was going to need a shower when this was all over. “This one feels dangerous. They show a gun around him also, but I don’t believe it has anything to do with serving or protecting to uphold the law.”

  “Now you’re just freaking me out. Josh must have told you this stuff.”

  “No, Josh didn’t tell me anything, I’m a medium, remember?” I was having fun now. Yeah, it was at her expense, but I was starting to feel confident. “Did you want me to continue?”

  She hesitated for a moment before answering. “Yes.” Then gathering her cockiness, she added, “You owe me my full thirty minutes!”

  The time couldn’t pass quickly enough.

  “They show that you want to get back with your ex, but that he won’t have anything to do with it, but you are going to try nonetheless. I don’t see it happening. I see another man coming your way soon. Someone who’s not even remotely related to the other three. A man much more matched to you.”

  “Ooooo … What’s his name?” She leaned forward, her blue eyes large with excitement. I felt as though I were looking in the eyes of a black widow getting ready to eat her prey.

  Sometimes my guides show me names or initials, but I wasn’t getting anything. Not even a letter. I did, however, have a description and at that moment I could have kissed my guides.

  “Sorry, I don’t have a name, but I can tell you what he looks like.”

  And so the reading continued on without a hitch and thankfully she didn’t request her money back. I felt relieved when she finally left, but then just when I thought I could relax, another client came in. One after another they chimed through the doors. It seemed that I was Sideshow Bob, as the rumor mill had spread that there was a new reader in town. Whatever the case, I was making money, and that was good.

  [contents]

  nineteen

  Undercover Psychic

  I felt a bit like I was living a double life. I was working in human resources for a fairly traditional and conservative school district, and if they found out that I was working a second job as a medium, I would be forced to choose one or the other. I couldn’t tell my parents or the kids’ father. He would have my head. So, the kids were sworn to secrecy, and I went on working at the metaphysical center every Thursday evening when the ex had the kids and every Saturday morning with the kids in tow. My life was becoming chaotic, but the busyness was enlightening and welcome. I had also decided to drop my name back into the dating pool, but not to find a longtime companion. Who knew if it was a nudge from my guides or self-mutilation?

  In my very first reading, Josh had told me that a few months after the divorce I would meet a man whose first name would begin with the letter “R.” He said that the man would have kids, be divorced for some time, and was my soul mate, but to be honest, even though I was dating, I was exhausted and starting to get a bit cynical about relationships. I really needed a break, but a few weeks after my psychic appointment, I was asked to go on a blind date.

  His name was Chuck and since there wasn’t an R in his first name, I thought I was safe. I was embarrassed to tell my mom and dad that I was dating. After the past fiascos, I knew they would disapprove, so instead I asked if they could watch the kids for an hour while I ran errands for the play. They agreed, and I met up with my mystery man at a local restaurant.

  We had previously emailed one another our photos, and I told him what I would be wearing—black pants and a sweater, and he said he would have on jeans and a polo shirt. I can’t say that it was love at first sight. Actually, the moment that I saw him it was apparent that he wasn’t my type at all and this would probably be our first and last date. He looked a bit like he hadn’t stepped out of the 1970s. He was ten years older than me, and looked it, with longish dark brown hair mixed with salt and pepper. I offered him a hug, and although he hugged back, he scowled at me for not wearing what I told him I would be wearing. He was right. It was a warm November, and at the last minute I changed into jeans and a shirt. Instead of being insulted, I laughed at his honesty and wit. We were seated, and before ordering, the jitters of a first date were instantly eliminated and we fell into easy conversation that was comfortable and also felt safe. I hadn’t felt safe in years, if I really ever had.

  “So what do you do for a living?” Chuck asked me as he stirred his Diet Pepsi with his straw.

  I had made a promise to myself to stop disguising who I was. Well, that was ha
lf true. I was still keeping secrets from my family. “I work in human resources for Northville Public Schools, but I am a spirit medium.”

  I checked his expression. He slightly raised his left eyebrow. “And what does being a spirit medium entail?”

  “I see, hear, and communicate with those who’ve crossed over, along with guides and angels,” I said with a newfound strength.

  “Fascinating. My mom has always been into astrology and that stuff, too.”

  I nodded. Before I could ask him more, the waitress came with our food.

  “Can you pass the ketchup?” Chuck asked me, fixing his burger as I dumped dressing on my salad.

  I laughed at the nonchalant attitude. After all, how many dates confessed that they talked to the dead? I went on to tell him of the session that I had with Josh.

  “Well, you must not be the one,” I joked. “He said that my soul mate’s name starts with the letter R.”

  I looked up from my salad to see that he had turned ghost white.

  “Does it count that my entire family calls me Robbi and not Chuck?”

  Ding, ding, ding.

  It was my turn to pale. I decided right then to never offer names to my clients.

  Without my realizing it, two hours passed and I had to rush to get back to my parents’ house. I knew they would be chomping at the bit. I felt a tad bit like Cinderella at midnight and, as I sped to my car, Chuck stopped me. He opened his car door and pulled out a dozen flowers, a CD, and a stuffed animal and handed them to me.

  “You told me your birthday was last week, so this is a bit late, but I thought you might like.” He blushed as he piled my arms full of gifts.

  I rarely ever got gifts from either husband, and I was grateful. The date had been exhilarating and I was smitten, but played it cool. I gave him another hug.

  “Hey, where’s my kiss?’ he flirted, and kissed me on the lips.