“I'll answer that by asking you a question. Have you ever been to the moon?”
“Now that's a silly question,” Helen said. “You know I haven't been to the moon.”
“Of course,” Veronica said. “But what if you won a contest which included a trip to the moon and once you got up there, a strong feeling of déjà vu came over you whereby you could swear you've been there before. But of course, you know that couldn't have been possible because moon trips are expensive and not readily available to civilians anyway. Besides, you'd only won the one moon trip contest.”
Bennett said, “You have a lot of cases of people thinking they've been to the moon?”
“No, Uncle Den. That was just an extreme example of how we know that a memory's false. People have recollected things that just weren't possible.”
Bennett bit off a piece of toast. “What causes that?”
“Although we're not entirely sure, the growing consensus is that there seems to be a disconnection between a person's long term and short term memories. Short term memory helps a person get through their day to day. You remember where you parked your car. You remember where you work, where you live. Long term memories you don't necessarily need on a daily basis, but your brain stores them for when you do need them. You remember what year you graduated high school or college or you can remember a scene from your favorite episode of Andy Griffith. We believe déjà vu takes a current situation and tries to tie it to an old memory that just isn't there, thereby creating that sensation.”
“I see,” Helen said. “If you’re able to connect a current feeling of familiarity to an old memory of something that actually occurred, you wouldn't have the sensation in the first place.”
“Exactly,” Veronica said. “We make those types of connections every day. We see something familiar and we say that reminds me of such and such. Sometimes, we're able to make that connection almost immediately. And even when we can't initially make the connection, our brain lets us know that there is indeed a connection to be made and it'll eventually be found. When the brain knows that there is no connection to be found because the searched for memory doesn't exist, it responds with the déjà vu sensation.”
“So, a brain mystery is solved,” Bennett said.
“Well, not quite,” Veronica said. “Everyone doesn't buy the false memory theory.”
“No?” Bennett said. “What're they saying causes it.”
“Some scientists are exploring links between déjà vu and mental disorders like schizophrenia and anxiety. And of course, there are some theories that say it's related to past lives and reincarnations.”
“Mmm,” Bennett said. “I can see that.”
“You believe in past lives, Uncle Den?”
“I'm not saying that. But, I remember when I felt déjà vu. It definitely felt as if I had lived that experience before. It sure as heck didn't feel like a false memory. It felt very much real to me.”
“It did for me, too,” Helen said.
“So what do you think, Roni? Any chance the sensations are related to reincarnation?” Bennett asked.
“Funny you should ask that. My take on that is the same as my professor, Dr. Frost’s. My rational side tells me that it's highly unlikely. And probably could never be proven anyway. But the psychologist in me tells me that the apparent nonexistence of something doesn't mean that it isn't a real possibility. I guess that's why I was so excited about our déjà vu project. A part of me is seriously hoping to find a case which proves reincarnation or something. But so far, all our test subjects seem to support the false memory theory. Although for a time yesterday, I wasn't so sure.”
“Why? What happened yesterday?” Bennett asked.
“Our test subject had been experiencing daily déjà vu sensations which we had considered a godsend because we've had to recreate the sensations in our other subjects before we could study it. But yesterday, we were finally getting the chance to study a naturally occurring one.”
Bennett finished the last of his eggs. “How were you going to do that?”
“With the MRI scan. Since her sensations were happening daily, we figured we'd hook her up and just wait for one.”
“Did it work?” Bennett asked.
“It took almost two hours; but it worked better than we'd imagined it would. Not only did she have a déjà vu sensation, but she also threw in a vision for good measure.”
“A vision?” Bennett said. “What kind of vision?”
“She saw a terrorist attack, at least that's how she described it. She saw a big building explosion.”
Bennett straightened up in his chair and leaned toward Veronica. “She said it was a terrorist attack?”
“Take it easy, bro,” Helen said.
“Yeah, relax, Uncle Den,” Veronica said. “She wasn't having a psychic moment. What we were able to see in the MRI images was that she was having an epileptic seizure.”
“An epileptic seizure?” Helen repeated.
“Yes, we'd already known that epileptic seizures occur in the same temporal lobe area of the brain as the déjà vu sensations. In the past, some patients having a seizure would describe also having déjà vu-like sensations. So in the end, what we saw in her brain images wasn't really surprising. But it was still a bit of a disappointment. I was kind of hoping…I don't know. I guess I was hoping for a different reason for her sensations.”
“I'm sure she was, too. It was probably devastating news for her to learn that she has epilepsy,” Helen said.
“Well, we can't officially make that diagnosis. But she was able to call her family doctor and make an appointment to see him today, which was good, especially since today's Saturday. But, I believe she'll be okay.”
Bennett drained the last of his coffee. “Tell me a little more about her vision.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
On Sunday morning, before she'd left for church, Kallie's grandmother had taken the unnecessary liberty of pulling back the curtains in Kallie's room. Now a generous dose of sunlight sprayed evenly into the room, washing over Kallie and forcing her to pull the covers up over her head to block out the light. For a moment, she just lay there, listening to the sounds of the house. That was the thing about an old house, she thought. It never seemed to shut up. Its boards always creaked and moaned. Its pipes were forever humming whether water traversed through them or not. Even the slightest of winds would constantly whisper through windows that never seemed to shut completely.
She was thankful that her grandmother hadn't insisted that she attend church with her this morning. It was a minor miracle, particularly since Kallie wasn't in the mood for any hymn-singing, Bible-reading, witness-testifying, or whatever else the church usually grouped with the accompanying sermon, which mostly fell on deaf ears anyway. And she was especially not in the mood to be around a bunch of holier-than-thou people sending glorious shouts of praise upwardly on Sundays, after having no doubt spent most of the week breaking no fewer than half of the Ten Commandments. But she hadn't felt like driving back to campus this morning either. Although if her grandmother had lain down her usual Sunday church law, Kallie would have surely hit Hwy 74 with reckless abandon to get back to school, if for no other reason than to spite the old woman. But this morning her grandmother had mended her stringent church law, which meant either she was finally letting Kallie make her own choices about religion or, sadly, she was simply getting too old to fight. Kallie hoped it was the former. She loved her grandmother and hated disappointing her. But her church bored Kallie to tears.
As Kallie lay in her bed, she thought about yesterday's doctor visit. She'd been fortunate to be able to see Dr. Roberts so quickly. He was one of the few area doctors still committed to a six day workweek. After the MRI incident on Friday, Josh had asked for her doctor's name and number. After she'd given him the information, Josh made the call for her. He had even described to Dr. Roberts what was visible on the MRI scan. Afterwards, Dr. Roberts had insisted she come in ASAP and to bring the
MRI images along with her. On Saturday, after studying the images, Dr. Roberts confirmed what Josh and Veronica's non-medically trained eyes had already determined…epilepsy.
Officially, Dr. Roberts had described what she'd had on Friday as a simple partial seizure. He'd added that meant the seizure was localized. In her case, localization was in the temporal lobe area of the brain and was most likely the cause of her déjà vu sensations. He explained that the sense of déjà vu was a common symptom of seizures in that region of the brain, though he could offer no concrete reason behind her sudden outburst of seizures. He'd said that there were various potential causes. In some cases, heredity played a part, although he doubted that was the reason behind hers. There was also a possibility of brain injury, but the MRI scan showed no evidence of such an injury, and she herself had no recollection of having sustained one. Those two facts lessened the chance that brain injury was the culprit behind the seizures. “We don't always know the cause,” Roberts finally admitted. “Besides, right now I believe our main focus should be on treatment.”
He'd outlined the various treatments she could undergo. And he'd assured her that by no means were the seizures or epilepsy life threatening or even life inhibiting. She should and would be able to live as full a life as she'd wanted. His words had comforted her despite the fact that she hadn't believed a word of what he'd said or what the images apparently had shown.
What she'd felt the past few weeks hadn't felt like seizures. Even if what she had could technically be called seizures or epilepsy, she felt there was more to it than that. She wanted to say something to Dr. Roberts about how she felt, but she hadn't known exactly how to frame her thoughts. She'd known the doctor her whole life and next to her mother and grandmother, he had been the only other person to have seen her naked. But telling Dr. Roberts that she not only didn't believe his diagnosis, but had also in fact believed she'd somehow become psychic, was a baring—one of the soul—that she wasn't ready to commit to. It sounded nutty even to her.
Besides, the good doctor would have probably assumed that she was just in a state of denial anyway. Earlier in the semester, she did her psychology research paper on grief and loss. She learned that there were different stages to the acceptance of grief and loss. Denial was the first one. And honestly, if she'd thought for a moment that she actually had epilepsy, there would be no doubt that she'd be in denial. But this wasn't denial. The vision she'd had while in the MRI scanner felt real. And she couldn't forget about the incidents in Professor Jones' class and New Vibe Church. She'd known what was going to happen both times before those things had actually happened. No, this wasn't denial. This was an increasing certainty that what she was experiencing wasn't déjà vu, nor was it related to epilepsy or seizures. This was something else entirely. But what it was exactly, she hadn't the faintest idea.
* * *
Spearman Road was five turns off of Hwy 74. It was a lonely, isolated dirt road, stretching about a mile and a half long. There were only two houses on the road, one at the start of the road, and one at its end. Both of the dilapidated houses were no more than glorified sheds standing only by the grace of God. Madame Isabel's house, the larger of the two, was at the end of the road.
It had been five years since Kallie's first and only visit to the house. But she was able to find it again easily. She could never forget the way to the place where her mother's death had been foreseen. Her mother had believed in psychics and had taken fourteen-year-old Kallie with her to see Madame Isabel, who, according to Kallie's mother, was the most popular psychic in Robeson County.
Kallie hadn't known much about psychics; but she sensed that Madame Isabel was different. The old woman had claimed that she could only feel the futures of certain people. But she never knew who those people were until they were sitting directly in front of her. She offered no money back if fortunes didn't come to pass. But she wouldn't accept money in the first place if she didn't feel the person's future as they sat before her. Kallie had never before heard the term “feel” in relation to someone's future. Most people had been turned away because Madame Isabel could not feel their futures. Janie Hunt had not been turned away.
Her mother had sat across from Madame Isabel at the kitchen table. Kallie had sat in a raggedy old wicker chair that had been set off by itself in a corner of the kitchen. An apple pie recently pulled from the oven had been placed on the nearby windowsill to cool. The pleasing aroma of warmed apples and pie crust filled the kitchen, masking the news Janie Hunt was about to receive. There'd never been anything deathly about apple pie.
On the drive to Madame Isabel's house, Janie Hunt had told Kallie that Madame Isabel was only ten years older than herself, which would have made Madame Isabel forty years old at the time. But the woman sitting across from her mother looked closer to retirement age. Her hair was a white dusty-gray. Her face was lined and drawn as if she'd suffered from insomnia. She wore a pink housedress that had frayed edges. Dingy-white house slippers donned her feet, the heels of which looked ashy and coarse.
Madame Isabel shuffled a deck of cards while staring intently at Janie. She pulled three cards from the deck, placing them down side by side on the table in front of her mother. “Are you sure you want to continue?” she asked.
Janie nodded her head, mouthing an almost silent, “Yes.”
Madame Isabel turned over the first card. From where Kallie was sitting, she couldn't make out exactly what was on the card, but she could tell these weren't ordinary playing cards. She'd caught a glimpse of the cards as Madame Isabel shuffled them. They looked to have images of animals or something on their faces. Whatever the image on the first card was, it brought no reaction from Madame Isabel who'd simply glanced at it before placing it face down on the table. She moved to the next card, again looking at it with a blank stare before placing it face down on the table. She did the same thing with the third and final card. After all three cards were placed face down in front of her mother, Madame Isabel looked at her mother again, giving her one last opportunity to leave before finding out what the cards would reveal. Janie nodded her head slightly, indicating she was ready to know. Slowly, Madame Isabel proceeded to turn the cards over. After all three cards were face up, both Janie and Madame Isabel stared into each other's eyes briefly, before Janie looked away long enough to tell Kallie to leave the room and wait for her out on the front porch.
Kallie started to protest, but the look on Janie's face convinced her that she oughtn't. Reluctantly, she stood up and moved delicately past the table. On her way out to the front porch, she glimpsed the three cards on the table. They were all pictures of animals. But the pictures of a bird, fish, and frog had offered no clue as to what Madame Isabel would say as soon as Kallie was outside earshot.
Kallie stood now on the very porch she'd been exiled to five years ago. From the outside, Madame Isabel's house hadn't changed much. The exterior was off-white, old wood badly in need of a paint job. On one side of the porch, a beat up looking Chevy pickup was parked in the dirt driveway. On the other side was a tomato garden, nearly half the size of a surprisingly large front yard and unmolested by the mess of colorful leaves strewn about by the great oak standing watch in the center of the yard. I didn't know tomatoes harvested this late in the year, she thought absently. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the front door.
Madame Isabel opened the door after the second rap of knocks without beforehand inquiring who was at the door. Odd, it seemed to Kallie, because there was no peephole and she didn't notice anyone peeking out through either of the front windows at her. Yet, Madame Isabel stood before her seemingly unsurprised, and, in fact, expectant.
“Come in, child,” Madame Isabel said and stepped aside, allowing Kallie to enter. The older woman moved as if she'd aged tenfold since Kallie had last seen her. Kallie hoped to God that she herself wouldn't look so haggard when she turned forty-five. Madame Isabel acted as if every part of her body had an ailment. It looked like she was wearing the same housecoat
and slippers she'd worn five years before. She led Kallie into the kitchen and indicated the same chair that Janie Hunt had sat in before. Kallie sat down and Madame Isabel sat down, as she had done in the past instance, in the chair directly across from her. “You act as if you've been expecting me,” Kallie said. “Do you know why I'm here?”
Madame Isabel didn't immediately answer. She studied Kallie for a moment, looking at her as if she was a long lost relative. She closed her eyes briefly and then opened them again. This time, she smiled at Kallie. “Yes child. I know why you're here.”
Kallie looked solemnly into Madame Isabel's eyes. Vibrant brown pupils sat in clear white sclera. She took a deeper look at the woman's face. There was definitely tiredness in it, but no more than would be present on the face of any person whose sleep had suddenly been interrupted. The haggardness on the woman's face was only surface deep and she might actually be considered attractive with a little makeup and care. She swallowed. “You told my mother that she was dying?”
Madame Isabel didn't blink. “Supposedly when had I done that?”
“It was five years ago. I was here with her.”
“Did you hear me tell your mother she was dying?”
“No,” Kallie admitted. “She made me go sit on the front porch before you'd said anything. But twenty minutes later when she came out, she took me to get ice cream. My mother used to think ice cream was the ultimate painkiller. She took me to get ice cream before telling me about my father. She took me to get ice cream when my dog ran away, and again when my grandfather died. My mother was never the same after we'd visited here. So, that afternoon's ice cream trip could've only meant one thing. And that one thing had finally happened last year.”
“I'm sorry to hear about your mother.”
“You don't remember me, do you?”
Madame Isabel ignored the question. “I never told your mother that she was dying. She'd already been diagnosed with cancer when she came here. She never asked me if she was going to die or if she could beat the disease. She was resigned to her fate.”
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