by Olivia Myers
I back away from the table like it’s a wild animal ready to strike. Is that why I can’t hear Evan? He’s psychic?
“I can see I made a bad choice here. I should have approached you differently.” Evan stands carefully like he’s afraid he’ll spook me. “Just, if you want to find out more, come see Phil at the store. He’ll know how to find me.”
My mouth is so dry I can’t speak. I just watch as Evan disappears into the student store. By the time my senses come back to me he’s gone. I rush after, but can’t find him. Finally I sit down on a chair by the dressing room and close my eyes.
I can’t be pregnant. If I was, I’d hear the baby, I reassure myself. Still, two months with no period and all this vomiting? Plus I’m hungry all the time and I’m starting to gain weight…
***
“The test was positive,” the girl says. She’s a med student and she’s got an actual doctor over her shoulder, scowling at me. It doesn’t take a psychic to know what she thinks of me.
“I’m. I’m. I’m.”
“Pregnant,” the young one offers with a smile.
My hand automatically goes to my belly. “Something’s wrong,” I say. “You have to do tests. I need to know what’s wrong with my baby.”
The girl looks alarmed, but the older lady sighs deeply. “It’s okay Miss Collins. Cassandra is it? It’s normal to feel shocked.”
“You don’t understand. I should be able to hear it.”
The wannabe doctor stares like I’m a nutcase. The older one says, “Very well, let’s do an ultrasound so you can see that everything’s normal.”
I wait on the table while they wheel in the equipment and spread the cold gel over my stomach. “Sometimes it’s too early and we need to do a vaginal, but… oh. There it is.” She turns the monitor toward me and I see a pulsing image on the dark screen. At first it just looks like a bunch of white static, but then she points out my uterus and I see it inside. A tiny lima bean shape with an even tinier beating heart and the smallest limbs I’ve ever seen.
My hand covers my mouth and tears spring to my eyes.
“It looks perfectly normal. Heartbeat is steady and just right for this point in your pregnancy. I recommend you see an OB as soon as possible. If you can’t afford it, of course you can come back here as long as you’re still part of the University.”
“But… I know there’s something wrong. It must be his brain,” I insist.
The doctor looks at me with more sympathy this time, but that only makes this worse. “I’m sure it’s fine. But you should see a specialist if you can afford it. I can’t tell the gender yet either by the way.”
“It’s a boy. Evan said it was.” I roll my head to the side, mentally and physically exhausted. I’m starting to feel nauseous again too.
“Is Evan the father?” she asks, cleaning off the gel with a tissue.
“No. He’s a psychic.”
She clucks her tongue at me and rolls the machine away. “For heaven’s sake. I know they’re supposed to exist, but please. If you were a psychic, how could you not know you’re pregnant?”
“I sit up, pulling down my shirt. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I’m psychic and I can’t hear the baby.”
Now I get the glare of doom from the doctor and a clear message, albeit not out loud. What a waste of time! This girl is a nutcase. I hope she doesn’t do drugs or something. That poor baby. Maybe I should report this to someone.
“I’m kidding,” I say quickly. “It was a joke, but you look like you took me seriously. Listen, thank you for the help. I do feel better. I’m going to go make an appointment with my Ob-Gyn right now.”
She nods, accepting this, and leaves the room.
Clutching my stomach, I drop off the table and head outside, through the maze of people waiting for their turn at the clinic and then through the neatly trimmed sidewalks and large brick buildings. Bikes whiz by throngs of people laughing or heading to classes. All of their voices mix in my head like a big ball of white noise.
Why can’t I hear you?
I need to find Evan. I’ve never actually met another psychic, at least one that knew what I was or told me. He seemed to know what was happening. He even spoke with the baby so he’ll know what’s wrong with him.
The question is, how do I find him? He said something about a store and a guy named Felix. No. Wait. It was Phil. I think. Crap. There must be a million stores in and around the area, not to mention a million and one Phils.
The way I figure it, I have about seven months to find the right one.
***
Superhero Watch isn’t nearly as fun when distracted by the idea of a tiny person inside of me. It’s tough to concentrate on other thoughts when I can’t stop thinking about all the fetuses I’ve spoken to over the years. I love their thoughts. Tiny glimpses of what they see and hear. So why can’t I talk to my own child?
I can’t seem to keep my hand off my stomach either, like I’m supporting him since I can’t communicate any other way. How do non-psychic people do it? Six weeks I’ve searched for Evan and I’ve about given up. But tonight I figure I’ll walk down Main and check out some more stores just outside of the campus area. It’s always crowded on Friday night and I’m bound to run into some drunk asshole that means someone harm.
Maybe saving someone will take my mind off my baby and make me feel better about my abilities at the same time.
I grab a cup of decaf just to hold on to something as I stalk the sidewalks, picking up snippets of internal monologues.
What if he finds out I’m cheating?
I wonder if she’ll notice the zit.
I can’t wait to tell Phil about the occult book I found.
Phil. Book. Something about that draws my attention and I try to focus in on the last thought I picked up. It’s a girl, probably a freshman since she looks young and is wearing the latest in high school fashion – floppy winter boots and short shorts. She has long black hair with a purple ombre at the bottom. Sure enough she’s carrying an ancient-looking book under one tan arm. I watch as she steps into a small door at an angle to the street. I glance up at the sign overhead and see it’s called Phantom Phil’s Quirky Books and Doodads. Okay.
I think back to my conversation with Evan and remember he said something about Phil and bookstore. He also mentioned Main Street…
…Hot ass. Gotta get me some of that tonight. She looks like she squeals when cornered. Squirming and squealing…
Ew. I glance over and see an average looking guy in a jean jacket staring at the door of the same bookstore. He licks his lips as he inches forward. I squint at him and focus on reading more, no matter how disgusting.
Pictures instead of words this time. The girl with the purple umbrae in the alley behind the store. Naked. He has her pinned to the wall and she’s begging him to stop, weakly struggling against him like some bad porn movie. When he enters her and her pleas change to begging for “more,” I run back to the same alley and vomit up my lunch.
Guy’s going down.
I peer around the corner and see him finally enter the store. I wait a minute before following. When I step inside, I find myself inside of a musty two-story filled from floor to ceiling with shelves of books, haphazardly set up like a giant maze. One winding stairway juts through the center, but the top floor is hidden behind a veil of black beads, over which hangs a sign with a chalk eye that reads: OCCULT.
The beads are still swinging lightly.
It has to be Ombre. So I head toward the stairs, keeping my eyes set on the part that rises above the maze of shelves. I figure that’s the easiest way to find the right path. But when I take a sharp left to avoid a dead-end, I nearly smack right into an old man who reminds me of Morgan Freeman, freckles and all.
“Hello there.” He greets me with a huge grin like he’s been expecting me to smack into him or something. “May I help you?”
“Phil?” I guess.
He tilts his tiny nametag to re
ad it like he’s checking to be sure. “Well, now, it does seem to be my name. And you are?”
“Cassie,” I say distractedly. I peer over his shoulder at the steps and see the creeper at the bottom, staring upward.
“He won’t do anything in the shop, don’t worry.” Phil’s grin gets even bigger and he gestures behind him at the stairs.
I crinkle my brow at him. “Wait. What?”
I almost forgot why I’d been interested in the store in the first place.
Phil laughs suddenly as though someone just told him a joke.
“Um, so you’re psychic?” I ask, still watching as the guy slowly stalks up the steps.
“She is clever! Don’t you worry, you have a great mom.” Phil succeeds in gaining my attention back. “I thought I should speak out loud. Seemed rude to converse with your child without your approval.”
My mouth hangs open. There are so many things I have to ask! But…
“I promise he won’t hurt her. Evan is up there. Even if he did try something, which he won’t, he’d be stopped.” Phil’s grin drops away and he turns serious.
“How did you read my intentions if psychics can’t hear each other?” Of all the questions to start with, this seems both relevant and reasonable. “Wait. Did you say Evan’s up there?” My heart races a little as I once again look up to find swaying beads.
“Indeed I did. And I didn’t hear you, I read you. Body language can be just as telling as thoughts after a while. We have much to discuss, Cassie. We’ve been waiting for you for some time now.”
“Who is ‘we’? Do you mean you and Evan? What do you want with me?”
“Well, sure, Evan and I are part of The Inner Eye, but thankfully we have many more members than the two of us. Let me get you some hot cocoa. It’ll taste a whole lot better than that awful coffee you’ve been avoiding.”
I gape at Phil. He really is good at reading me. But should I trust him? And how can I just let that man go when I saw the awful things he wanted to do to that girl?
“Vicki should be down in a sec. Follow me.”
I don’t ask who Vicki is. I have a feeling I know. I just follow Phil dumbly to a worn armchair near the entrance. He rounds a chipped glass counter, tinkers for a minute, then reappears with a mug of steaming liquid, which he sets on a stack of books just the right height for a coffee table. “Marshmallows. Hope that’s okay. Can’t tell if you’d prefer whipped cream, but my fridge is out at the moment anyhow.”
“Thank you,” I say, accepting the mug. It’s tough not to love his smile.
Above us the beads tremble and Ombre – Vicki – bounces down the stairs, waving at Phil with one hand and clutching a stack of books in the other.
“Thank you, dear. Go on ahead with those. Perfect trade.”
“I must owe you something,” Vicki says, cocking her head. He’s so sweet.
“Nonsense,” Phil insists, returning her smile as the guy stalks down the steps from behind and disappears into the labyrinth of shelving. He’s slippery. I don’t even think Phil’s seen him.
“Well, thanks. I’ll let you know if I find anything else.” Vicki glances over at me. “He’s got the best collection of psychic phenomena I’ve ever seen! I love that stuff. Well, see ya!”
Vicki darts out the door and out from the shelves comes the guy in the jean jacket. He moves like a serpent, slick, low, and shadowlike toward the door. The picture in his head comes through so vividly I almost choke again.
I’m about to leap up. I don’t have any idea what I might do, but I have to do something. But then Phil steps smoothly in front of him, startling him out of his sick fantasy. I wrinkle my nose when I see the lump pressed inside the guy’s tight jeans.
“Can I help you, son?” Phil asks.
“Just looking. Gotta go. Excuse me.” The guy tries to step around Phil, but Phil grabs his arm and closes his eyes.
I’m about to jump up again, for fear the guy’s going to beat up the helpless old man. But in moments I realize he’s frozen, staring at the door.
“Watch his mind, Cassie. You can do this too with proper training.” Phil winks at me and I wonder how I can help but see the horrible image frozen in the guy’s mind. Pressed behind Vicki’s warm, naked body. Blood running between her legs as she screams in ecstasy. Ugh.
But as I ready myself to try to break away, the image slowly shifts. The blood runs back inside of Vicki. The scene rewinds until she’s back in her clothes. Then the whole thing starts over again. I watch as he grabs her arm, spinning her around. Surprised. I’m ready to watch him punch her again, but instead she blocks him, drops the books, and pulls a series of badass ninja moves, knocking him back into the brick wall, where she’d been in his first vision. Blood runs out of his nose this time as he staggers to his feet while she stands, taller than I remembered, with hands on hips, glaring.
He runs at her again, but she sidesteps, grabs his shoulder, and spins him around to knee him in the nuts.
In real life, the man sinks to his knees, clutching himself. That’s when I see the blood spurting from his nose. I gasp.
The vision is gone and he scrambles to his feet, eyes darting around the store like he’s not sure how he got here. He runs out the door.
“What did you do to him? What if he’s still trying to catch her?” I ask, excited, scared, and a little dizzy from the whole experience.
Phil smiles easily again. “Drink your cocoa before it gets cold. I’ll explain everything in due time. But I assure you he won’t be attacking Vicki or any other innocent girls any time soon. He’ll be bested by them in his head from now on.”
He waits patiently as it sinks in. Then I take a sip of the warm, chocolaty liquid. It’s amazing. The marshmallows are melty and sweet.
“So you said Evan is upstairs?” I ask, cradling the cup.
He nods. “The man you seek is upstairs. Take a look around while you’re there. I do have quite a non-fiction collection on psychic phenomena, as the lady said.”
I make my way back through the shelves to the staircase and take one step at a time, staring at the beads as my pulse speeds up. What do I say when I find him? I should just go down and ask Phil about the baby. He spoke to him.
But something pushes me forward and I slip through the veil to the other side. I’m greeted by the scent of incense. The lighting has a red hue and there are black leather sofas in the center of the area, surrounded by a backwards U of shelves. There’s a giant pentagram on one side of the U, with a chalk eye like the one downstairs on the other.
In one of the plush leather seats is a familiar figure, handsome and focused just like I remember. He’s thumbing through a book and I can hear his thoughts loud and clear.
This report is ridiculous. There’s no such thing as this crap, but I need an A and I thought it’d be an easy elective.
He glances up before I can make myself scarce and there’s nowhere to hide so I wave. “Hi, Tristan. Remember me?”
His face blanks for a moment, then he jumps to his feet, startled. He drops the book on the couch. Immediately pictures flash through his mind. Pictures of me, naked, on top of him in the car. Pure pleasure, and then devastating disappointment when I left him on the sidewalk.
I’m filled with shame. I had no idea I could have hurt his feelings. Now what do I say?
“Um, listen, I’m sorry I left like that. I just thought you wouldn’t… I mean that you didn’t…” I snap my mouth closed, afraid I’ll work my foot inside deeper.
My own memories of our time flood through me. Mine are fuzzier than his but I still feel the tingle below my belt and I shift uneasily on my feet.
“It’s okay, Cassandra. You didn’t owe me anything. Hey – it was definitely an unforgettable evening.”
He blushes in the red light, and it’s adorable. I picture the baby boy inside of me blushing like that and nearly pass out with the realization that his father is standing in front of me.
Shit. What if he wants to be part of
the kid’s life? No way. I mean I don’t even know him!
“Seriously, you look like you swallowed a wasp or something. Was it that horrible?” He clears his throat and crosses his legs.
“No! It was amazing. I…ugh, this is awkward.” I flop down onto the other end of the couch and take a deep breath.
I’ve never been used by a girl before. What does that make me? he wonders.
I bury my face in my hands, listening to his thoughts race. He really does think I’m attractive, but he reminds himself that I’m a slut and not the person his friend Rick described to him.
I can’t deal with this right now.
“Listen,” I say, just to interrupt his derailing thought train. “I wasn’t really myself that night. I was trying to kind of drown out some stuff in my life. I’m sorry. You really are a great guy. I mean you seem like a great guy and I shouldn’t have done what I did to you.”
This is only getting harder. I wish someone would rescue me.
From behind one of the dark shelves in the corner steps Evan. Sandy hair mussed up just like I remember it. He’s got on tight jeans and a green t-shirt that reads: Mind Your Own Business.
I stand up so suddenly I feel dizzy. All those weeks of searching and there he is. But why now?
He winks and strides right past me toward Tristan. “Hey, man. I couldn’t find anything else on mind reading that you can use for your report. At least not anything that your professor would take as a reliable source.”
Tristan stands and glances at me before thanking Evan.
“And you were looking for something on Knights in Shining Armor, right?” Evan points at me.
I’d wished to be rescued right before he popped out. But he’s not supposed to be able to read me! That’s not fair. Wait. Does that also mean he read all that about my one night stand with Tristan? I feel the heat build in my neck and face.
“I guess I should let you go,” Tristan says, interrupting by stepping close to me. I inhale the scent of his musk and feel lightheaded. “I don’t suppose you’d consider giving me your phone number. So we can maybe get to know each other and at least talk about—” He glances at Evan, whose eyes are trained on him, unblinking. “Things.”