Becoming Indigo

by Tara Taylor

  “What am I going to talk about for an hour?”

  “Believe me, the time will fly by. Call me when you’re done. Oh, and, Indie, don’t forget to protect yourself before you begin.”

  “I already did. This morning in the shower.”

  “Good girl. Okay, call me after.”

  I hung up the phone, and my body started shaking. I couldn’t do this. I had to tell the client that Annabelle was sick. I looked at the book. Catherine. The woman’s name was Catherine. Beside her name was first time. At least she wasn’t a regular with Annabelle. I wrung my hands. And I paced behind the counter. Back and forth. Little steps. Back and forth.

  I couldn’t do this!

  Sure you can. My ego voice spoke, and she shocked me a little. Then I remembered what Annabelle said. Sometimes she was helpful.

  I went to the card section in the store. What if I took a new deck and paid Annabelle back? At least the cards would give me something to try to read off. I was just about to grab a package when the bell tinkled, and the door opened, and in walked my first client.

  Don’t use the cards.

  “Hello,” I said. “Welcome to Annabelle’s Angels.” Oh, crap, I sounded like a dork, like a perky cruise-ship lady.

  “I’m here for a reading,” said the woman.

  I tried to smile, I really did. “You must be Catherine.”

  She nodded and wrung her hands together, obviously nervous.

  You’re going to be okay, Indie. You can do this.

  “Isaiah,” I murmured under my breath, wanting him near me, beside me the entire time. I needed him today.

  “What?” The woman frowned at me.

  I looked right into her eyes, and something washed over me—my entire body brightened, if that makes any sense. For a few seconds, I stood still and thought of a white ice cream cone swirling down over me, covering me in white light, protecting me.

  Once I was covered in white, it was as if another light went on inside me, and I could see ahead, way down the road. I didn’t need to be afraid.

  I walked to the door, turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED, and smiled at the woman. “Shall we go to the back?”

  I led her to the pink room and had her sit on one of the fluffy chairs. I positioned myself across from her. I’d never sat in Annabelle’s chair before, on this side of the table.

  “Are you Annabelle?” she asked, confused.

  I shook my head. “Annabelle is sick today. My name is Indigo. I will do your reading, but if you’re not satisfied, I can book you an appointment with Annabelle, and there will be no charge for today.”

  “Okay.” Catherine’s voice sounded like a little bird chirping.

  As if I’d done this a million times, I slowly reached across the table. “Give me your hands.”

  She placed her hands in mine, and I closed my eyes. When my lids covered my sight, they felt light, like a colorful afghan blanket on a bed. I inhaled through my nose and exhaled through my mouth and let myself slide down my tunnel. I don’t know if I smiled, but I think I might have, because the sliding felt so natural and fun. When I got to the bottom, all around me was white. I concentrated on the blank page in front of me and her hands, the feelings I was getting from them, the vibrational energy that went from her to me.

  Then it happened.

  I saw a pair of boobs. Big boobs.

  Boobs?

  Yes, boobs.

  My eyes popped open, and I stared at Catherine, having no idea what to say. She sat across from me, and she looked at me as if she wanted me to say something. I heard Annabelle’s voice in my head: “Say the first thing you see. Don’t edit. Don’t ever edit.”

  But I couldn’t say what I saw!

  This was crazy.

  Say the first thing.

  You can do this.

  Suddenly, I knew that at this moment, my intuition was guiding me and my ego was pushing me forward.

  “Okay,” I said to Catherine. “This is really weird but … I’m seeing a pair of boobs.”

  And just like that, Catherine nodded as if this was okay. Then she said very softly, “I’m thinking of getting a boob job.”

  “Don’t,” I blurted out. “He’s not worth it. It won’t make you happy or him happy. If you want to do it for you, that’s okay. But don’t do it for him.”

  Words spewed out of my mouth like verbal diarrhea. I knew nothing about this woman, yet here I was talking to her as if I did.

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she turned away from me. “My boyfriend doesn’t like me the way I am. He keeps saying he’ll leave me if I don’t get a boob job.”

  I breathed. In and out. I had to help her. But I couldn’t let her emotions run mine. My heart rate slowed, and once again I was calm and centered. I squeezed her hands. “He’s not worth it. You are beautiful the way you are.”

  I closed my eyes again and let myself slide. Vision after vision appeared, and I talked nonstop. Letting her energy enter my body, I could see her walking down a long road. I could see what was ahead of her and what to avoid and what to embrace.

  When I looked at the clock after what felt like five minutes, I realized we had been in the room for more than an hour. I gave her hands one last squeeze and pulled away. “Are you going to be okay?” I asked.

  She tilted her head and gave me a little smile. “Thank you,” she said. “You have no idea how you have helped me.” Her smile expanded to cover her entire face. “I am going to be okay. And I don’t need big boobs to do that.”

  I laughed. “I had no idea what to do with that vision.”

  She pulled out her checkbook. “How much do I owe you?”

  I didn’t charge her as much as Annabelle charged her clients, but still, when I had the check in my hand I was shocked and felt so incredibly grateful because I had helped someone. And I’d done a good job. Could it be possible … could I do this as a living? I walked Catherine to the door and flipped the sign back to OPEN.

  Then I called Annabelle.

  “How did it go?”

  “Good, I think.” I proceeded to tell her about the boobs vision, and she laughed.

  Then she said, “I’m happy to hear about all of this, but if you are going to start reading for people, you will need to cut your cords with them as soon as you finish the reading. It is important to let everything you have seen about them go. You don’t want to remember anything.”

  “Okay…”

  “It is okay you told me today, but going forward, don’t ever tell anyone anything—even me. The information you receive should remain confidential. Right now, wherever you are standing, I want you to envision a bunch of cords. They can be ropes or even computer wires. Just some type of cords.”

  I closed my eyes and saw cords of wool. Weird. I wasn’t a knitter.

  “Now snip them,” said Annabelle.

  In my mind I cut all the cords.

  “Now shut the light off. And let your mind go dark.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and saw myself actually flicking a light switch to the off position, creating a dark room.

  “You okay?” Annabelle asked.

  “Yes.” I opened my eyes, and my world was light again. “I’m good.”

  It was really weird, because I honestly felt that all the words that had tumbled out of my mouth less than an hour ago were in some foreign language and that I would never be able to decode them.

  “Let’s move on to real life,” said Annabelle. “Real life keeps you grounded on earth. And let’s face it, that’s where we live. I need you to order more of those rose quartz crystals today.”

  The reading was over, and I was back in the store with my schedule and cash register.

  Had I really just gone somewhere in the universe, on a journey not of this earth, and returned just like that?

  When the door tinkled at noon and Paul walked in with two Starbucks cups, I knew I was definitely back on earth. He gave me one of his quirky smiles. “In the neighborhood,” he said. “I got you
a green tea.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Thought you might need it,” he said.

  I eyed him, slightly taken aback by his comment. No one knew about my reading this morning. I hadn’t told a soul.

  “Why would I need it?” I asked.

  “You … don’t know?”

  “Know what?” Now he had my interest piqued.

  He blew air out of his lips, making them vibrate so he sounded like a horse. Then he took the tea out of my hands, placing it on the counter. “I don’t want you holding this yet. John Smith was arrested this morning.”

  “What?” I swear my breath almost stopped.

  “Cocaine possession,” said Paul. “I heard he’s getting charged with dealing.”

  “He’ll go to prison.”

  Paul nodded. “If he’s convicted. But rumor is that he was caught red-handed. It was a bust. A big bust. They hauled him off in cuffs.”

  My legs were shaking so much that I had to sit on the stool.

  “Do you think you’ll go see him in jail?” Paul asked.

  I glanced at him. “Why would you ask that?”

  Paul shrugged before he lifted his coffee to his lips and took a small sip. “You’re just the kind of person who would. That’s all. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  I put my fingers to my temples, lowered my head, and closed my eyes. John. Why would you do something like this? All his plans to go to England were gone. He was going to prison instead. I felt a warm hand on my back. Without opening my eyes, I reached up and touched Paul’s hand.

  “Indie,” he said quietly as he squeezed my fingers. “I have to tell you this so you don’t hear it from someone else. Dennis ratted John out.”

  “Dennis? Dennis Neufeld?”

  “Yeah. They were all selling for the same guy. They got the main guy and three guys working under him, including John and Dennis.”

  I heard John’s words in my head. Why did you go in the woods with someone like him?

  He knew what Dennis was like, yet he blamed me. In that moment, I knew exactly what I needed to do. “I need a second,” I said to Paul. “Don’t go, okay?”

  I went to the back room, sat down on the fluffy pink chair, and closed my eyes. Then I created a picture in my mind of thick, twisted ropes, the kind sailors used to anchor boats. I snipped them, little by little, until there was not one thread left hanging. After they were severed completely, I hit the light switch and allowed my mind to go dark, pitch-black, and I stayed in that dark for a few moments.

  When my body felt light, I popped open my eyes, stood, and walked back to the front of the store. Of course, Paul was still waiting.

  “Are you okay?” he asked with such genuine concern.

  Instead of answering his question, I asked, “How about a movie tonight?” I took his hand in mine and smiled. “We could treat each other.”

  Over the next few months, I did readings in the back pink room, for all the new clients who phoned in, because Annabelle insisted they go with me. She wanted me to develop my own list of clients. Clients. The word sounded so grown-up, but I have to admit I liked the sound. It made me giddy—almost as if I were doing something with my life.

  Something good.

  Two weeks before I was to leave for Scotland, I finished a reading and walked my client Mary to the door.

  “Thank you so much, Indie.” Mary gave me a big hug.

  “You’re welcome. Any time.”

  She smiled at me. “You’ve made a difference in my life.”

  “I’m glad I could help.”

  “Annabelle’s lucky to have you.”

  “I’m lucky to have her, too,” I replied, smiling. And I was lucky. That I knew.

  Mary left, and when I turned, Annabelle was gazing at me with a contented look on her face. “You want to go for something to eat? I’m starving.”

  “Sure,” I replied.

  Annabelle and I went to a funky tapas restaurant, and the waiter brought us menus and two glasses of water with lemon.

  “I’m really proud of you,” she said, playing with the lemon in her drink.

  “Thanks.” I picked up my drink and had a sip.

  Casually, she glanced at me over the rim of her glass. “You fought it, girl, but you’ve come around. You still have a lot to learn, but you are definitely on the right path.”

  “I’m reading those books you gave me.” I paused, but just for a second. “Especially the one on past lives.”

  “Ahh, yes, past lives. A past-life spirit will make you feel as if you’re looking into a mirror.”

  “Because … we were them once. Right?”

  She winked. “You’re a quick learner.”

  I smiled. “This might be the first time I’ve heard that.”

  “You are,” she stated. “You need your own store, you know.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I leaned back and shook my head. “I’m not ready for that yet.”

  “You will be one day.” She twirled her fork, and I figured she wanted a cigarette. “How’s Paul?”

  “Good. We’re taking it slow but making progress.”

  She eyed me. “You’re going to miss him when you’re away, you know.”

  Now it was my turn to do something with my hands, and I swirled the lemon in my water glass. “I know,” I whispered. “I don’t want to, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t ever want to feel dependent again.”

  Annabelle put her hand on mine. “Indie, it’s okay to love. And if that means you might miss him, it doesn’t make you dependent. And it doesn’t mean you can’t have fun on your trip.”

  I looked directly into her beautiful brown eyes, and she held my gaze. “What about you?” I asked. “Is there anyone special in your life?” Annabelle never talked about her love life, and her eyes often showed such pain.

  “Not right now.” She pulled away from me, picked up a menu, and scanned it. “I don’t have time. But soon I’m going to connect with an old loved one.” She scrunched her face at me. “So … any questions on your readings? I’m here to help.”

  I spun my glass around. Lately I had been thinking about death and how to handle it if it came up in a reading. I wanted to be prepared. “Do you see death in your readings?” I blurted out.

  She shrugged. “I usually just get a feeling of sooner or later,” she said. “But never any specifics.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you seeing death?”

  I shook my head. “No. Not really. Sometimes when I’m reading someone, I get a feeling, but it’s so unclear that I don’t say anything.”

  “It’s better not to say anything. I don’t think that’s up to us.”

  “Do you … do you know when you’re going to die?”

  She looked down at her nails, playing with the paint on them for a few moments. When she looked up she said, “I think I’m going sooner rather than later.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Ten, fifteen, twenty years.” She took a sip of her drink. She smiled at me and reached across the table. “Let’s channel now and find out.”

  “In here?” In horror, I glanced around the restaurant.

  “Sure. I don’t care what people think of me.” She took my hands, held them tightly, and closed her eyes. I closed mine too, just because.

  Within a few seconds, she said, “You’re going to live into your eighties.” She paused. “I’m going earlier than that.”

  “Excuse me, ladies,” said the waiter.

  We opened our eyes and looked at each other.

  “Time to order,” said Annabelle.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I’m going to miss you guys,” said Sarah.

  Two suitcases sat open on the floor of the living room, and Natalie and I were double checking the contents to make sure we had everything we needed for our trip.

  “Group hug.” Natalie jumped up, and the three of us hugged and danced in a circle until klutzy me stumbled on
an open suitcase.

  “Ouch.”

  Natalie and Sarah laughed, and we toppled to the sofa.

  When we had quieted down, Sarah glanced from Natalie to me, then back to Natalie. “I’ve been thinking,” she said quietly, a little too quietly for Sarah. She had something important to say.

  “I’m moving back home.” Her words came out in a rush. “I’ve got to save money for school next year.”

  Natalie looked at Sarah wide-eyed. “Okay,” she said, “that is just plain weird, because I was thinking the exact same thing.” She shut her suitcase before she said, “I want to spend time with my grandmother before I go to Queen’s in the fall.”

  My heart sank to my big toe, the one I had just painted bright red for the trip. Why hadn’t I seen this coming? I was the one who was supposed to see and hear things. Deep inside, if I was to admit it to myself, I had seen the signs—I had just tried to make them not come true. Sure, I had a job and the readings were great but … something was missing. This roommate breakup was going to make me move on, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that. At least not right now!

  Sarah fixed her gaze on me. “I think we should hand in our month notice now and try to be out of here the first of May. Do you want new roommates, Indie? We can always put ads out to get new people to come live with you. Or maybe you have some friends who might want to take over our rooms.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure something out.” I held up two sweaters. “Which one?”

  “Definitely blue,” said Sarah.

  I tossed the blue oversize one in my luggage as the doorbell rang. I jumped up and raced to the door.

  “I think someone’s in love,” Natalie called out to me.

  I opened the front door and wrapped my arms around Paul. He grinned. “Are you packing?” he asked. “How many bags? Four?”

  “Ha ha. Just one.”

  “One?” He followed me into the living room and stared at my open bag stuffed full of clothes.

  “You’re not even close to being ready.” He laughed and flopped on our beanbag chair, putting his hands behind his head. “I’ve got the best view in the house to watch you cram ten pairs of shoes in one bag.”

  I threw the blue sweater at him.