The Psychic

She gripped his fingers a bit harder, trying to pull the warmth from him to comfort herself and lower the goose bumps now forming along both of her arms. It was colder than she had expected, but not enough to ruin the evening. Her coat was not thick enough for the wind she was met with on their walk through the city. He stopped on the sidewalk before crossing the next street and took his big jacket off, quickly swinging it around her shoulders. “Oh, I don’t need your coat!” she said, shrugging it away. “Come on, take it!” He said, “How many years in New York will it take for you to realize you need an actual winter coat out here?” She looked at him impatiently, “You know I don’t have money to spend on something I’ll only wear for one season. I’m fine!” He backed down, “OK, OK” he said as he put his big coat back on. There was a break in traffic. He grabbed her hand and led her across the street.

About a hundred feet ahead loomed a neon sign hanging overhead the sidewalk – “Psychic Readings Inside” it read. “That’s new,” she said, “we’ve walked down here a million times, I’ve never seen a psychic shop. Let’s go in, it’ll be fun!” He thought for a moment how silly that seemed, to waste money on a psychic reading from some woman who had no idea what she was talking about, tricking people into thinking she had some supernatural gift. He looked at her face, though, and saw how her smile lit up at the prospect of trying something new. This childlike demeanor and optimistic spirit of hers was what made him fall in love with her in the first place, and he’d do anything to make her happy. “OK,” he said, “but just for fun! You know this stuff doesn’t mean anything.” She winked, “deal, just for fun! Let’s find out how much longer you’ll put up with me!” He laughed and shook his head, of course he’d never leave her. She knew that too.

She grabbed his hand and led him up three flights of narrow stairs to the psychic’s shop. They rang the bell, and through the glass door they saw a cheerful older woman dressed in nice black slacks and a chunky wool sweater. She looked rather professional, not like the fortune-tellers they’d imagined, staring into crystal balls and all that. She opened the door and let them in. “Hi angels, welcome, welcome! You’re here for a reading, yes? There’s no games here, no props or pretending, I will only tell you what I truly see in your futures, and not try to scare you into spending hundreds of dollars for me to erase some curse. I do this to heal and bring peace to my customers… you’re in good hands. Now come sit!” They were comfortable in her presence and feeling good about their spontaneous choice to actually try this psychic thing out!

They each took a seat on the psychic’s dark red upholstered chairs, with a table between them and her. The psychic now sat facing them, eyes closed, focusing. “So… how does this work?” he asked, “Do we ask you some questions, or what?” “Normally,” the psychic said, “you must ask for what you wish to know. In this case though, the message is strong and pushing through on its own!” The psychic looked at her and proclaimed excitedly, “You will soon come into $20,000! All at once! Pure spendable, liquid cash! Oh I see so much green!” Right then his phone rang with the babysitter’s urgent voice on the other end, she had a family emergency and had to leave the kids. They jumped up, thanked the psychic and left $20 on the table for her without a chance to ask more questions.

After they got home and relieved the babysitter, they sat down on their worn out couch while the children slept and finally had a chance to discuss that wild experience. He laughed, “What a riot that woman was! $20,000! Could you imagine, like it’s just gonna fall right out of the sky!” She cracked a smile, and gently laid her head on his chest. She knew he thought it was ridiculous, but a little part of her still hoped the reading would come true. That night she dreamt of the money, and woke up imagining all that it could do for her – a new heavy winter coat, and not just for her, but the kids too! She could go back to school, finish her college degree, fix up that old broken down car. She could be someone again.

The little piece of her that hoped the psychic was right about the money began to grow. Over the course of a couple weeks, her unfettered optimism morphed into a sort of chaotic delusion. Each night she prayed that the prophecy would come true, and then fell asleep to dreams of the cash. Each morning she rose more certain than the last that the $20,000 would be hers, and it was just a matter of time. He grew concerned for her, and thought perhaps it was time to address the state of her growing obsession. She could not focus at work, or on the children.

At all times she was thinking of the impending windfall, and when it might come to her. Even when she wasn’t, she was thinking of ways to remain patient, for she knew the money would come in due time. But this was very hard for her, as patience was a virtue she did not have. Soon, her friends and the rest of her family noticed the change in her too. She did not tell anyone else about the psychic’s prophecy, as she knew she would sound silly. But still she hoped, and prayed, and waited. She hoped and prayed and waited until the waiting became part of her identity. She now went to sleep early because she was so exhausted from the toll this anticipation was taking on her; so early that there was no longer the time or energy for them to go on their weekly walks together without the kids.

He missed their special time together, and longed for her hand in his. He longed to poke fun at her on the street corner for not splurging on a warmer coat and for her to find some ridiculous spontaneous activity for them to do along the way. He missed her childlike spirit and her innocent optimism. He missed that happy sparkle in her bright green eyes when the two of them used to joke around. For now all he saw in her eyes was the color of desperation, impatience, but mostly, an ugly greed. So one night, as he longed for his love to think of love again, he decided to take a walk alone. Just because she was choosing to suffer at home in her deluded, impatient waiting did not mean he couldn’t get out and be spontaneous on his own!

He grabbed his big coat, matching gloves and hat, laced up his snow boots, and headed out. He stopped on that same street corner where just a few weeks ago he had swiveled on his heels to try and give her his jacket. He thought of her independent smirk as she shrugged it off and carried on. Then he became angry; angry with that psychic who had ruined her peace. He stood there until he was irate, and decided to march down the sidewalk to that neon sign and right up those three flights of stairs to force that psychic to set things straight with his wife. He was so lost in his anger and in the memory of who she was, whom they had been, before the psychic’s promise of a coming $20,000, that he wasn’t paying much attention to the road as he stepped forward. As his right foot stepped off the sidewalk, a truck slid on the black ice right into him – he did not survive.

The doorbell rang. She was pulled from her slumber and dreams of wealth and comfort she hoped to soon enjoy. She begrudgingly rose out of bed, immediately annoyed realizing that her husband was not home. “What does he think he’s doing,” she thought, “staying out this late and now waking the kids with the bell!” She stomped down the stairs in a fit. She swung open the door. “Good, evening Ma’am,” said a strange voice. It was a police officer. The police told her that he was gone. He was really gone. She fell to the floor. A week passed. The phone rang. “Yes,” she said, “I can come in then.” She bundled up the kids in as many layers as they had, and began her trek through the snow. After about twenty minutes of walking in silence, she and the kids found the right building. She carried the kids up the three short steps and knocked on the door. Her oldest son asked, “What is Morris and Leaf LLP?” “It’s our lawyer’s office,” she explained to him, “we have to talk to some people to take care of all of daddy’s things.” An older man opened up the door and led them inside. She sat down quietly, holding back the tears. “Well, there’s no easy way to handle these things,” the lawyer said, “so I’ll just jump right in. There’s $20,000 left here for you and the kids. It’s all your husband had at the time he passed.”

She took the check. She ripped it up. She threw the shreds of ruined paper on the ground and stomped all over them. “Get rid of it!” She screamed, “I don’t want it!” The lawyer tried to calm her down. After a few minutes she was still crying, but coherent enough for him to tell her more. “There’s one more thing besides the money,” the lawyer said, “this little black book.” He handed it over to hear and explained, “your husband gave this to me years ago when we set up his will. It has been sealed for you and he asked that I keep it and give it to you upon his passing.” She very carefully outstretched her right hand to take the book from him. She examined it, turning it over many times in both her hands before opening it. The book was beautiful – a soft black leather cover with a custom engraving on the front that read “for my love.” She slowly opened it up and read his message to her:

“Maura, my love, you are my whole world. My only prayer is for the health and happiness of you and our kids; my only hope is to bring you joy and peace. I am so sorry to leave you. Please know I wish I could still be with you and the kids, but most importantly, know that there’s no rush to meet me here. I am happy to wait and I will be patient.”