The Awakening (15 page)

I cover my head for a second and groan. Then I peek at Mom. She's really concerned about me. "Mom, I've made friends. In fact, they're coming over and spending the night tomorrow, or rather, later today."

There's that Mom smile I love. "Oh, well, that's nice. Certainly. Just promise to tell me what's going on with you." She pats the bed and then gets up to leave. "I'm your mother, but I'm also your friend. You can trust me with anything."

My heartbeat accelerates even more and this time I know it's nothing to do with the paranormal. I need to come clean. Mom says she'll understand. My psychic intuition clearly tells me "trust your mother" and "tell the truth." I've always been forthright with her in the past, but I've never had to tell my very religious mother that I'm talking with spirits from beyond. Can she really handle it? The sheen of love radiating from her troubled eyes tells me that she can.

I sit up. "Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

I bite my bottom lip and glance down at the pendulum in my fist. "I can really tell you anything?"

"Always, Kendall."

"And you won't, like, fly off the handle and freak out?"

She takes a deep breath. "I'm going to freak out if you
don't
tell me what's going on."

Okay ... here we go.

"You're not going to believe this, but ... but..."

"But
what,
Kendall?"

"It's just that this whole sleep problem is because I'm having this, er, awakening of sorts."

"I don't understand, sweetie."

I sigh big-time. I don't want to do this. I don't want to do this. I don't want to do this. Can't I keep this secret just a little bit longer until I fully understand what's happening to me? Mom's concern is at an all-time peak, and I have to believe that she'll listen and let me work this out.

"I think I'm ... psychic."

She stares at me as if I've just committed the most heinous crime ever. The look of love is replaced with disbelief. "It's extremely late to play games, Kendall."

"I'm serious, Mom. I think I'm psychic."

"You're
what?
"

My trepidation and anxiety is replaced with nervous chatter. Everything spills out of me like water overflowing the edge of the bath. I can't stop myself.

"I know it's hard to believe," I explain. "I didn't understand it myself at first. I'm apparently going through this psychic awakening and that's why I can't sleep. I'm on pins and needles with every sound and light that I hear and see. I'm feeling all these things and I know what people are thinking and I get these physical pains that match theirs. Oh, and I met this woman who's also an intuitive and she's been helping me through this and teaching me how to concentrate and breathe and how to use this pendulum to talk to spirits." I hold up the pink quartz pendulum for good measure.

Mom blinks hard. Then does it again. "You t-t-talk to spirits?" she asks in a hoarse voice.

"Yeah, Mom. You're not going to believe this, but I see dead people."

After what feels like two decades of silence, Mom lurches forward and snatches the charm out of my hand. Incredulity crosses her features while sheer horror and shock reverb off her like invisible microwaves. I absorb it straight into my psychic energies and sense a blackness coating me. Uh-oh. This confession was not such a good idea.

So much for that motherly understanding.

As Grandma Ethel used to say when she was playing hearts and losing badly to her gang of geriatric girlfriends: I am totally up shit's creek without a paddle.

O
KAY
, I
SHOULD HAVE KEPT
The Sixth Sense
reference to myself.

"Yes, Father Ludwig," Mom says into the cordless. "I'll tell her. Bless you for your time so early this morning. Goodbye."

Mom places the phone back into its base as Dad walks into the living room, finishing up the Windsor knot in his tie. "Sarah, you didn't call Father Ludwig in Chicago and wake him at this hour, did you?"

"Of course I did, David." Her lips are flat. Like nothing I've ever seen. The woman is
très
upset with me. All I can do is sit quietly in the middle of the couch—where I'd been directed to perch after I finished getting ready for school—and await the parental verdict. Although, since Mom brought in our Episcopal priest from back home, there may be a more theological judgment coming my way.

Mom paces. I bite my bottom lip. Dad retreats to the kitchen for coffee.

"David, we have to talk about this
now.
"

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

Kaitlin tromps down the stairs and barges in. She rubs her eyes and assesses the players in the room. "Why is everyone up so early?"

"Go eat your cereal, Kaitlin," Mom directs, shooing my sister toward the kitchen.

"But Mom! Why is Kendall—"

"Do as I say, Kaitlin, or else
you'll
be in trouble too."

"Oh, man! She's in trouble? Cool!"

"Cereal. Now!"

Kaitlin doesn't even try to hide her wide-ass smile as she heads off to the kitchen. Dad returns with a steaming cup of java—I wish he'd just hand it over to me to help jolt me out of this unfortunate reality—and sits next to me on the couch. Calmly, he crosses his left leg over his knee and takes a sip from his WGN Weather mug. I know what's coming. I mean, I don't have to be psychic to see how this is going to play out.

"Sarah, sit down and let's talk this out."

"What's to talk about?" she nearly shrieks. "Our daughter was up in her room in the middle of the night practicing voodoo."

I can't help but laugh, which is so not the right reaction. "I was not practicing voodoo."

Mom plows her hands into her sleep-disturbed hair. "Look at her, David. She thinks it's funny."

My eyes connect with my dad's, begging him to believe me. "I don't, Dad. Seriously. She's making way too much out of this."

"She's your mother and she's concerned about you."

I bite my bottom lip so I won't burst into tears. Already did that enough during what was left of the nighttime, knowing what I'd face this morning.

"You're damn right, I'm concerned," Mom says emphatically. "Kendall, you're inviting evil spirits into this house, and I will not have it."

I sit forward on the couch and plant my hands next to me. I have to make them understand. Make Mom understand. "Mom, I'm not inviting any—" I stop the additional words from leaving my mouth.

Mom holds out my dowsing pendulum to show my dad. "Father Ludwig says this is used to contact spirits. It's a form of divination. Deuteronomy 18:10 says that none among you should use divination. And yet you sit in your bedroom under my roof and do that? You tell me, Kendall."

I reach for the pink quartz and nearly teeter off the couch when Mom yanks the pendant away from me and tucks it into the pocket of her bathrobe.

"It
is
used to communicate with spirits—" I admit.

"See?" Mom interrupts.

"I can't battle Bible quotes with you because you know more than I do," I say in my defense. Why would God give me this gift if I couldn't use it? "I just know what I'm doing is not a bad thing. We have a ghost here in this house and I was just trying to talk to her and find out what she wants."

Dad sets his cup on the coffee table, which is the only barrier between Mom and me. "Kendall, you're not actually buying into all of the ghost stories here in Radisson, are you? It's just a waste of time and energy. Don't get sucked into that vortex, kiddo."

How can I get them to believe me when I only just recently started believing myself? "I swear, Dad. We have a ghost. I've seen her and heard her. I was communicating with her last night and asking her questions about if she knew she was dead and how she died and other stuff."

Mom's hand flies to her mouth, and her eyes mist over with tears. "I don't understand. Any of this. Not at all. I've raised you to be a good Christian girl, Kendall. And you repay me by ... by ... by dabbling in the occult!"

Oh my God. She did
not
just go there!

I bolt up and run to her side. "Mom, it's not like that at all." Hot, gushy tears obscure my vision as I try to explain myself. I put my hesitation aside; I've got to make my parents understand. "I didn't conjure this up. I'm not in a cult or trying to worship Satan or anything. You've got to believe me.
This
is why I can't sleep. First it was too quiet, and then I started hearing a voice through the white-noise machine, and now, I'm just hearing the voice in my head."

This makes Mom cry even more. "I knew you needed medication. I'm taking you in to see Dr. Murphy today."

"Please don't! It's not anything mental at all! I'm telling you guys, I've come into an awakening. At least, that's what Loreen calls it."

"Who's Loreen? An imaginary friend?" Dad asks. His eyes shift from me to Mom and then back to me.

"
No,
" I say emphatically. "Loreen's the lady who owns Divining Woman in the Square. What do you mean, imaginary friend? I'm almost seventeen, Dad."

He sits back and fidgets with the rim of his glasses. "When you were a little girl, you had an imaginary friend."

"David ... don't."

"I so did not." This just doesn't seem like me. I never did anything you'd expect a little kid to do: I never sucked my thumb or wet my bed. I didn't play with Barbies or baby dolls, so I certainly wouldn't have had an imaginary friend. Would I?

"You did too," Dad continues. "Never knew her name, but you said she sang to you and taught you songs. Your Grandma Ethel always said it was just angels watching over you."

Awww ... that's really cute. Mom even has a wistful look on her face; however, it quickly morphs back into the concerned-parent scowl.

"I don't remember that," I say in my defense.

"After Kaitlin was born, you quit talking about your friend," Dad says. "So we never thought anything of it. It's normal enough for children to do that."

Right, because children have pure souls and they can see things that adults don't recognize. They accept unexplained things in their lives and are more sensitive to their sixth sense. At least, that's what I've read on all these websites that Celia and I have been trolling. Could I have been talking to spirits or ghosts way back then? Of course, the thought of me sitting in my room thinking someone named Tony was living in my head, a la Danny from
The Shining,
kind of creeps me out. Since my
Sixth Sense
reference didn't work on my parents, I highly doubt that telling them I "shine" would do much good either. They're not very cinematic.

I need for them to believe me, even if I don't quite understand this myself. "You guys, I'm telling you. I've developed psychic abilities."

"That's just absurd, Kendall," Mom snaps.

Kaitlin chooses that moment to butt in. "You've got what?"

Dad turns. "Kaitlin, this is between your sister and us."

My sister sticks her tongue out. "You're a freak, Kendall."

Dad points at the stairs. "Kaitlin, enough! Go get ready for school."

"Well, she
is
a freak," she mutters as she runs up the stairs.

"Just wait until
your
awakening," I scream out. "It's hereditary, you know."

My parents look at me like
they've
just seen a ghost. My mother has gone completely pale, and Dad's eyes are dilated.

"You're going for Communion this afternoon," Mom announces. "We haven't been to Christ the Redeemer Holy Episcopal Church yet, but Father Ludwig said he'd call the priest and do an introduction for us."

"Mom, this has nothing to do with religion. It has to do with my awakening." I feel like I'm practically begging here.

She leans closer to me. It's like she's aged ten years over-night because of her concern for me. I hate that I'm causing her pain and confusion. How does she think
I
feel?

"Who told you about this awakening you keep referring to?" she asks.

"Loreen. Loreen Woods. The lady at the store in the Square. I told you."

Dad pauses. "What kind of store is it? Divining Woman?"

I swallow hard and bite my bottom lip again. "It's uhhh, an, ummm ... New Age store." Then I jump to defend Loreen. "She's a psychic/sensitive/intuitive herself, so she understands what I'm going through." I try explaining everything Loreen and I talked about. Especially how my sensitivity is a gift. "It is, Mom. It's something special that God has given me." Although, at the present moment, it seems like a curse. "I'm not making this up and I don't need mind-altering medication. This is
real.
"

Dad pulls Mom aside and lowers his voice. I can hear him plainly, though, thanks to my sensitivity. "Sarah, I'm sure this is how she's coping with all the change. This move can't have been easy for her or Kaitlin. They're each adjusting in their own way. They need our love and support more than anything."

"I always provide that to my children," Mom says quickly but quietly. "I will
not
have some strange woman giving my child guidance on how to cultivate psychic abilities. It goes against everything I believe in. It goes against the Word of God. You go to work, David. Trust me to handle this."

I watch as Dad gives Mom a quick kiss and then winks at me. "We'll talk when I get home tonight, okay, Kendall?"

"Okay, Dad." Not like it's going to do any good. They think I've gone off the deep end. And I haven't even gotten around to telling them about my ghost hunting with Celia and Taylor. That's something I'm going to have to keep to myself for now. Mom would blow a gasket.

She won't look at me when she speaks. "Go get ready for school, Kendall."

"Yes, Mom," I say, not wanting to push her any further.

As I pass by her, she takes my elbow to stop me. "One more thing, Kendall."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I forbid you to see or talk to that Loreen Woods woman anymore. Is that understood? You're not to call her or go into her store or anything. You will stop all of your unusual behavior at this moment. Am I understood?"

My chest constricts, making it hard to take an adequate breath. Mom's words slice through me, bisecting my life into compartments labeled
normal
and
abnormal.
All I wanted was to fit in here in Radisson. So I have psychic abilities and I see ghosts. And I have friends that appreciate that. Aren't those good things? I guess not.