Dorothy Allison - A Psychic Story

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by A Psychic Story (lit)


  Without telling anyone, the girls went to Chinatown in New York City. They still wore the white blouses and white skirts in which they had graduated. Arm in arm they walked nervously along congested and noisy Canal Street. Barechested men shouted from windows above the street. The girls were intimidated at seeing all the huge trucks and the factories found in this neighborhood.

  They didn't know exactly where they were heading, but they were hungry and wanted to try eating in a Chinese restaurant. But even more important, they wanted to have their fortunes told.

  The girls passed several restaurants before stopping at one. A smiling, round-faced man standing behind the window saw them trying to read the menu and waved them down the steps. He was kind and helped them order, though they never knew what they ate.

  Maria, one of Dorothy's friends, asked the Chinese man if he knew of any fortune-tellers. He smiled a row of bad teeth and pointed down the street. "Mrs. Wong," he said, "she sees everything."

  Mrs. Wong's small fortune-teller's sign stood in the window on a piece of faded green silk next to a rosary and a cross. The girls slowly walked into the dark room, and before their eyes adjusted, they heard the cheerful chirp of the fortune-teller. She was bright-eyed and small, the same height as the girls. She shook hands with each of them and bowed. Mrs. Wong led them through curtains into another room where they sat around a dimly lit table covered with green silk, like that in the window but less faded.

  The girls were scared, giggling and holding onto one another as though on a spook ride. Mrs. Wong gazed at each of them, never saying a thing but looking into their eyes.

  Without warning she reached for Dorothy's hand and held it out for everyone to see. All eyes were on Dorothy's palm as Mrs. Wong ran a long fingernail over the tiny channels. No one said a word; no one giggled.

  Mrs. Wong first said that Dorothy would have a long life. At fourteen that didn't mean too much to the girl. The fortune-teller then talked about problems she would have with members of her family and said that later in life she would stand alone. Dorothy had no idea what that could mean, so she wasn't disturbed.

  Then Mrs. Wong said that Dorothy would be married within two years. Maria, Rose, and Katherine all lunged forward as if they had received an electric shock. Everyone looked into Dorothy's hand for a glimpse of the man she would marry. As if that wasn't enough, the seer said that she would have a child within three years!

  Dorothy felt as though her heart had stopped. Married at sixteen, she thought to herself. That frightened her. Her father was dead, her mother grieving, and now she was to be shipped off with a husband. She felt lonely and abandoned. Having a child was not nearly as frightening as getting married: she had no idea where children came from.

  Dorothy wondered how Mrs. Wong had known. The man Dorothy was to marry a year and a half later lived across the street from her. He was a tough little Irishman named Richard McSorley. What the two lacked in height - neither stretched over five feet - they made up for in temperament.

  Two weeks after they met, Richard proposed marriage and Dorothy agreed, seeing the idea as an escape from the strictures of her own house, where the atmosphere had changed so much since her father's death. The young couple drove to Maryland for the marriage license, the longest trip Dorothy had ever taken. On the ride down she told Richard about Mrs. Wong's prediction coming true.

  "A fortune-teller!" he exclaimed. "You went to a fortune-teller? I suppose you believe in spooks, too?"

  His words hurt her. After that she was afraid to mention anything about the things she was seeing and in which she believed.

  Sixteen and married, seventeen and pregnant, and at eighteen, a mother of a strong boy. Suddenly she was an adult. Before she knew it, her entire life had changed, and so did the way people treated her. Even though she had only moved across the street and down the block, the world was a very different place for her. Her mother still ran a tight ship in her home, but Dorothy was no longer part of it. And by now she had realized that God came first in her mother's eyes; all her visionary powers were devoted to Him.

  During all the changes in Dorothy's life, she continued to have visions of her own. The fear and loneliness of her first vision had left her apprehensive and confused. Still too young to comprehend what had occurred, she took solace in the fact that Appolonia, too, saw things that others never saw.

  At eighteen Dorothy had not yet learned that she could control what she was seeing. Sometimes, sitting with a friend or neighbor on the front stoop, she would say things that surprised people. She was talking from an inner vision, which they couldn't share.

  One of Dorothy's closest bonds at the time was with her next-door neighbor, Nelly, a dark-haired Albanian woman who lived upstairs in the gray and white wooden house with her husband and three daughters. Her sister, Dodo, lived downstairs with her husband and two children. The two sisters had a habit of hanging out their windows and shouting messages to one another, impervious to the fact that all the neighbors could hear. It was during such an exchange that Dorothy had met them.

  One day Dorothy and Nelly were sitting on the steps breaking pea pods and tossing the little peas into a huge silver soup pot. Nelly was much older than Dorothy and served not only as a friend, but as a motherly adviser as well. Nelly would often talk to Dorothy about raising children, offering her own special brand of wisdom.

  On that day Nelly was worrying about the future of her daughter, Jeannine, who had a new boyfriend. She wondered if Jeannine would many a rich husband and have lots of children.

  When Dorothy told her that her daughter would marry not once, but twice, would have two children, and would be comfortable but never rich, Nelly looked at her in amazement.

  "She will marry twice?" the stunned mother repeated.

  "Twice," Dorothy nodded, watching the peas bounce into the pot.

  "How can this be?" Nelly wondered. "No daughter of mine can marry twice. It is not allowed." Nelly's voice was getting louder. "She will have to be happy with one husband, and I will tell her so."

  "What if her first husband dies?" Dorothy interjected. "Couldn't she marry twice, then?" Dorothy had suddenly received a mental picture that convinced her Jeannine's first husband would leave her a widow.

  "Oh, thank God," the mother exclaimed. "The family will be relieved to know she won't divorce."

  Despite Nelly's relief, Dorothy could sense she was trying to figure out how her friend could know all about her daughter's future.

  After a few minutes Nelly began again. "Dorothy, did you know that Mr. DeVito is sick? They put him in the hospital yesterday." "No, I didn't know that," she said. "Last week you told me he was going to be very sick. Remember? And I said you were crazy and better watch your tongue? How did you know he was going to be sick?" Nelly was hard in pursuit.

  "I didn't," Dorothy said honestly. "When I was buying fruit last week, I saw him talking to Mrs. Menuchi. Suddenly I saw him in a hospital bed. That's all I know."

  Nelly gave her a long, hard look. She didn't say a thing, but kept looking into Dorothy's eyes as if trying to see what her friend was seeing.

  "You saw him in a hospital bed, just like that?" Nelly cocked her head to one side and rested it on her hand. "No one asked you if he was going to be sick?"

  "No one asked me anything," Dorothy told her. "Have you ever seen me in bed like that?" Nelly demanded.

  Dorothy told her she had never seen her like that, and Nelly crossed herself and thanked God for her good health. It wasn't easy for Dorothy to accept people's reactions to her, especially when they had already been told by neighbors or relatives that she had certain abilities. Nelly and Dodo spread the word about her throughout the neighborhood, not without adding embellishments of their own. Many of the neighbors knew that Appolonia had special visionary talents and felt that Dorothy had been chosen by God to follow in her footsteps.

  Dorothy's extraordinary powers sometimes got the young woman into uncomfortable situations. One sunny spring day Do
rothy was walking down the avenue, pushing her son in his stroller. In the distance she saw Father de-Soto standing under a huge elm on the street. The tall, gaunt, young priest seemed to be resting.

  Dorothy, not really wanting to talk to the man, slowed down and edged closer into the shadows of the high hedges. Suddenly her foot sank into a hole and Sam's stroller overturned, making enough noise to alarm the priest, who came over to help her.

  Bending over the dark-haired tot, Father deSoto poked a finger at him. The child, already startled by the jolt to his stroller, bit the father's finger with unusual force.

  Dorothy was embarrassed but once the stroller was righted and the child soothed, she and the priest continued to walk along the busy avenue. Uncomfortable with the silence, Dorothy decided to tell the priest about one of her recent dreams.

  In her weekly confessionals Dorothy never spoke of the things she saw in her visions. She had long ago decided that the church knew enough about her from her mother and sisters. But today she decided to break her silence by telling the priest about a seemingly ordinary dream.

  "This isn't part of confession or anything," Dorothy started, "but I had this dream the other night that you were in." Dorothy figured priests were included in the dreams of many young girls, so she assumed there was nothing unusual about her dream.

  "We were all in church and you were just finishing the service when I saw a great big number on top of your head - the number eight. It just sort of floated there, and so did other numbers, while you talked about the church social and bingo night, which is tomorrow."

  The priest walked along silently for a moment, hands clasped behind him, trying to figure out what Dorothy's dream meant. Though he was in his thirties, Father deSoto looked old. He was thin and wore gold-rimmed glasses.

  Dorothy thought he was too serious-minded. The man was no fool, though. He knew that Appolonia was gifted with vision, which he believed gave her a special place with God. But Appolonia had never reported numbers appearing while bingo was being announced.

  "Are you coming tomorrow night?" Father deSoto asked.

  "Sure," Dorothy told him. "Richard and I wouldn't miss it for the world."

  He stopped and looked at her for a second. "Keep it in mind, this dream you have had. Maybe God has given you a hint." He turned and walked in the opposite direction.

  The following Sunday, Father deSoto made his way over to Dorothy after the service. He had been at the social and had watched the bingo winnings with interest.

  "God has given you a special message," he said.

  Dorothy knew he was aware of her winnings, so she could not fool him. She was sure one of her sisters would report them, if she didn't.

  "Yes, sir. Number eight did all right for me." She took a deep breath. "I would like to share my winnings with the church, Father," Dorothy said unhappily.

  "God will be very pleased with that," he said. "And anytime He gives you such messages, you may share them with me. I will help you with them."

  Help, indeed! Dorothy thought to herself. She had learned a valuable lesson from the priest: money was to be made and kept in silence.

  Appolonia was getting old, and her energy seemed to slacken daily. Everyone in the quiet, tree-lined neighborhood loved her. Her greatest joy was being with her grandchildren, for whom she always kept plenty of hard candy.

  One day when Dorothy visited Appolonia, she found her in bed. Her mother looked tired. In fact she was only holding her life together through the strength of her beliefs and her trust in people. In two weeks the flame of life would go out, and Appolonia knew it.

  "I see the face of God and I am ready," she said to Dorothy who sat quietly beside the bed. Appolonia reached out and took her daughter's hand.

  "You are strong, my daughter. You are blessed by God with special gifts. For years I have watched and listened." She paused for a moment, holding Dorothy's gaze. Their eyes were the same deep brown, revealing their Mediterranean ancestry.

  "Beware of your tongue," she warned sternly. "You will say things to people that they won't want to hear. Do not speak twice. If someone does not believe you the first time, do not say it again."

  Dorothy nodded her head as if she were in church. She knew her mother would die soon. She looked around the candlelit room which was full of her mother's life - her few possessions that tied her to Italy, to God, and to her family. She looked at the old photograph of her parents, showing a sturdy, proud, young couple; at the saints' statues and Bible; the yellowed lace curtains; and the ceramic animals on the dresser.

  These things, Dorothy thought, have only one owner, and she will soon be gone.

  "You will marry twice in your lifetime," Appolonia declared. "You will have several children. You will be comfortable, I know. You will stand alone." Her voice was timeless as she unconsciously echoed the predictions Dorothy had heard years earlier, in Chinatown.

  "My prayers have brought me special sight, and you too have it. Use it," she said with tears gently falling down her cheek, "as God would want. He gave it to you, and He alone can take it away."

  When Appolonia died two weeks later, the white crepe on the door again was a reminder to Dorothy of her father's death, her own vision, and all the things her mother had said to her. She never doubted what Appolonia had told her. Appolonia had believed in herself, and Dorothy felt deeply that self-belief was her most important strength.

  Oftentimes Dorothy wished she hadn't seen things, or hadn't reacted to visions before thinking what effect her words might have. Without being able to clearly recognize what was occurring, she would fall prey to sadness.

  Once, several years after Appolonia's death, Nelly and Dorothy attended the funeral of their friend Serrita's father. After the service at the cemetery several mourners stood around with Serrita and her two sisters, reminiscing about the time when their father had paraded them around on his broad shoulders when they were youngsters. Nelly and Dorothy walked the sisters back toward their house, Dorothy saying farewell to them when they arrived at her

  corner.

  Later that evening Dorothy went to Serrita's with freshly baked cakes in hand. As she approached the front steps, a picture of Serrita's husband, Jack, flashed before her. He had a devilish smile on his face. She didn't think much about it, though, and instead concentrated on the sadness of the occasion.

  Serrita came to the door and the two women embraced. Serrita seemed glad to see Dorothy, but very disturbed. With tears in her eyes, she took Dorothy's arm and led her out onto the porch.

  "Dorothy," she whispered, "I don't know how to tell you. Something terrible has happened and I don't want everyone to know."

  "What is it, Serrita?" Dorothy asked.

  The attractive woman looked around to be sure no one was listening. Dorothy knew that Jack had told his wife not to solicit advice from her. Many husbands disliked the things Dorothy told their wives, and warned them against her. Dorothy was hurt, but before she spoke, the same teasing image of Serrita's husband came to her again.

  "During the funeral, while my poor father was being buried, we were robbed," Serrita said. "My mother's jewelry was stolen." She cried into her hands. "The money I had saved ... it's gone, too. All of it. Oh God, it's too much for me."

  Dorothy held Serrita in her arms while she cried. She knew instantly who was responsible for the theft, but she couldn't say anything to the weeping woman. Dorothy was frightened.

  "Put this out of your mind for right now," Dorothy advised her. "We'll talk about it later. You have too much on your mind already."

  She agreed to drop the matter for the time being, but she felt Dorothy knew something about it. Dorothy pleaded ignorance but said she would give some thought to the incident in the following days.

  Two weeks later Dorothy was sitting on her front steps watching Sam feed pigeons, when Serrita walked up the sidewalk. Dorothy saw that she looked upset, so she sent Sam to Nelly's for more bread crumbs.

  As soon as Sam walked away,
Serrita began. "I think you know who stole my mother's jewelry."

  Dorothy looked her in the eye. "Do you really want to know?"

  "Yes," she demanded.

  "Jack. Your husband stole the money and jewelry."

  Serrita was shocked. She held her breath for a long time. The color of her complexion changed and tears rushed to her eyes.

  "You're lying, Dorothy. It's not true," she screamed.

  "If you don't want to believe me, then don't," Dorothy said defensively, holding back the sadness and confusion she was feeling. She felt grieved at her friend's reaction. "It's your choice," Dorothy told her.

  Serrita got up and walked away without looking back at Dorothy. Dorothy watched her walk under the trees and fade away in the shadows, and her own heart was sinking. But Dorothy never said a word to anyone about what had occurred. Though everyone knew about the robbery, no one knew who did it.

 

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