erupted. “I doubt it. I still don’t understand why you believe me.”
She sighed, almost an apology. “You know I do and I don’t if I’m being honest. I believe you feel it and I’m rooting for you. I want them all to be true—obviously. It’s a gut feeling. Maybe similar to yours but not so pronounced.”
I nodded before remembering we were on the phone. “Thank you.”
“I’m serious, babe.”
I heard a gulp and an “ahh” before she announced to me and everyone in her general vicinity, “I love Bloody Marys.”
I snorted. “Noted.”
“But seriously,” she continued, “I have always been a great judge of character. Ask Nash! I used to go to court with him on occasion for law school observation. I called bullshit on every guilty son of a bitch in the room. Even the ones who had everyone snowed.”
I laughed. “I believe you. No need to take me to court.”
“Nice. I see what you did there. So, back to this preview of Mr. Hotpants,” she said before slurping loudly at what I assumed was the end of her drink. “Or was it Mr. No Pants?”
I hummed, remembering.
“Ohh,” she moaned, “it was sexy, wasn’t it?”
“It was amazing.” I blushed deeply despite being totally alone. “But I’m more aggravated by it than anything else.”
“Why, darrrlin’?” she drawled. She must have had a few of those drinks.
“These previews feel like sirens, crazy seductive and waiting to drown me.”
“You’re a goddamn poet. Did you know?”
She spoke with genuine admiration, but I scoffed anyway. “I’m serious. I want him now!”
“Oh, tell me you heard yourself. You want him now? I bet you do.”
“I hate you,” I said, trying to restrain my laughter. “I just want something to hold onto, Viv. A point of goddamn reference, or the ghost in my machine is going to break something up there.”
She erupted in laughter. I wasn’t sure if it was my stupid brain joke or if she was seriously drunk.
“Vivi.”
She sucked in a post crack-up breath and sighed.
“I wish there were an easy fix, babe, but that’s not how the mind works. Add in your ability and it’s anyone’s guess. Allow me to doctor you for one quick second,” she suggested with only a hint of question to her voice. “Get out of your head.”
“What?” I couldn’t help the surprised bend to my tone, which rose an octave above normal.
“Focus on someone else for a little while,” she said, sounding surprisingly sober. “Not that this would be fun, exactly, but Charlotte’s dad’s surgery is today.”
“Yeah. She called yesterday. We were supposed to go to lunch.”
“Okay, well maybe just being there for her will help take the focus away from your own crap. Not to compare, but rather to be of service to someone else. It can be grounding.”
I considered it, stretching my thoughts around it. She was right; I couldn’t stuff myself in a dark attic and expect to see the light outside. With little prompting, I agreed. I would be there for those who’d been there for me.
Within a couple of hours, I was sitting in a dully colored lounge on the third floor of Lenox Hill Hospital in the middle of Manhattan and staring at the floor. I was sure the nausea-inducing print on the carpeting could induce seizures.
Who decorates hospitals anyway, sociopaths?
Charlotte and Drew had both been surprised to see me and graciously welcomed me. She introduced me to her mom, Sofia, who was Vivi’s aunt, and her dad’s older brother, Fred. After idle chitchat, we settled in to wait for the news. Charlotte curled up next to Drew in one of those awkward waiting room chairs. He had his arm wrapped around her protectively as he stroked her hair.
I took up the seat directly across from her, desperately trying to stop the awkward fidgeting I’d taken to today. I occupied myself by memorizing all the aspects of the room until the rag mag on the table next to me snagged my eye. I scanned through it for a while, barely taking
She sighed, almost an apology. “You know I do and I don’t if I’m being honest. I believe you feel it and I’m rooting for you. I want them all to be true—obviously. It’s a gut feeling. Maybe similar to yours but not so pronounced.”
I nodded before remembering we were on the phone. “Thank you.”
“I’m serious, babe.”
I heard a gulp and an “ahh” before she announced to me and everyone in her general vicinity, “I love Bloody Marys.”
I snorted. “Noted.”
“But seriously,” she continued, “I have always been a great judge of character. Ask Nash! I used to go to court with him on occasion for law school observation. I called bullshit on every guilty son of a bitch in the room. Even the ones who had everyone snowed.”
I laughed. “I believe you. No need to take me to court.”
“Nice. I see what you did there. So, back to this preview of Mr. Hotpants,” she said before slurping loudly at what I assumed was the end of her drink. “Or was it Mr. No Pants?”
I hummed, remembering.
“Ohh,” she moaned, “it was sexy, wasn’t it?”
“It was amazing.” I blushed deeply despite being totally alone. “But I’m more aggravated by it than anything else.”
“Why, darrrlin’?” she drawled. She must have had a few of those drinks.
“These previews feel like sirens, crazy seductive and waiting to drown me.”
“You’re a goddamn poet. Did you know?”
She spoke with genuine admiration, but I scoffed anyway. “I’m serious. I want him now!”
“Oh, tell me you heard yourself. You want him now? I bet you do.”
“I hate you,” I said, trying to restrain my laughter. “I just want something to hold onto, Viv. A point of goddamn reference, or the ghost in my machine is going to break something up there.”
She erupted in laughter. I wasn’t sure if it was my stupid brain joke or if she was seriously drunk.
“Vivi.”
She sucked in a post crack-up breath and sighed.
“I wish there were an easy fix, babe, but that’s not how the mind works. Add in your ability and it’s anyone’s guess. Allow me to doctor you for one quick second,” she suggested with only a hint of question to her voice. “Get out of your head.”
“What?” I couldn’t help the surprised bend to my tone, which rose an octave above normal.
“Focus on someone else for a little while,” she said, sounding surprisingly sober. “Not that this would be fun, exactly, but Charlotte’s dad’s surgery is today.”
“Yeah. She called yesterday. We were supposed to go to lunch.”
“Okay, well maybe just being there for her will help take the focus away from your own crap. Not to compare, but rather to be of service to someone else. It can be grounding.”
I considered it, stretching my thoughts around it. She was right; I couldn’t stuff myself in a dark attic and expect to see the light outside. With little prompting, I agreed. I would be there for those who’d been there for me.
Within a couple of hours, I was sitting in a dully colored lounge on the third floor of Lenox Hill Hospital in the middle of Manhattan and staring at the floor. I was sure the nausea-inducing print on the carpeting could induce seizures.
Who decorates hospitals anyway, sociopaths?
Charlotte and Drew had both been surprised to see me and graciously welcomed me. She introduced me to her mom, Sofia, who was Vivi’s aunt, and her dad’s older brother, Fred. After idle chitchat, we settled in to wait for the news. Charlotte curled up next to Drew in one of those awkward waiting room chairs. He had his arm wrapped around her protectively as he stroked her hair.
I took up the seat directly across from her, desperately trying to stop the awkward fidgeting I’d taken to today. I occupied myself by memorizing all the aspects of the room until the rag mag on the table next to me snagged my eye. I scanned through it for a while, barely taking
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