The Awakening (7 page)

"What kind of connection?" Do I really want the answer?

Loreen lets out a pent-up sigh. "A connection between our souls. Perhaps we knew each other in a previous life? I'm not sure. All I know is that I am supposed to guide you."

Hello, Shirley MacLaine, get Larry King on the phone! Someone's stealing your act.

This is a farce. Some sort of new reality TV show that Bravo's filming here in the sticks of Georgia. Will Heidi Klum pop out from behind the rack of tarot cards? This woman's not for real.

"I think you have me confused with someone else." I move toward the door, thinking that now that my dizziness has passed, I can make it home without a visit to the necessary (as my grandma used to call it). Home, where I'm going to lock myself in a closet until all this weird shit stops happening to me. Or until it's time to go off to college. "I don't need your bathroom after all. Thanks anyway."

"Wait, Kendall. We must talk."

"Why?"

"You see, I'm a psychic healer and sensitive," she says. I suppose her T-shirt isn't a joke then. "I have to say, there is a tremendous amount of energy surrounding you."

"Thank you?" I ask more than say.

"Something brought you in here to me today, Kendall," Loreen says. "I've seen you in my dreams and had advance knowledge of you in my card readings. You've been experiencing some, shall we say, strange things?"

It's like I've been doused in the face with a glass of (sweet) iced tea. (No such thing as unsweet tea here.) I gulp down the unease lodged in my throat and say, "Yeah, how did you know?"

Loreen takes a seat on an old Victorian couch with burgundy cushions. She pats next to her. "You're what, sixteen?"

"I'll be seventeen in December." I sit down next to her.

"Capricorn?"

I smile. "December twenty-second."

"Ahh ... on the cusp. You were born on the winter solstice." She reaches for my hand. "You're a very special girl, Kendall. And you're only discovering your powers."

Powers? Like a superhero or something? I mean, who wouldn't want Wonder Woman's curves and bosiasms—
I sure would!
—but I don't think I possess any special powers. "I don't understand—"

"I shouldn't refer to it that way," Loreen scolds herself. "What I meant is, you're just discovering your
abilities
.The gift that you were born with. Your sixth sense. You're a sensitive, Kendall. I can feel it. Your aura is strong and your energies are pulsating out of control."

Could this be what's causing my headaches? That is, if I were to believe her mumbo jumbo.

Loreen bites her bottom lip and scowls at me, as if she knows what I'm thinking. "Your mother is a sensitive?"

I try not to snicker. "No, she's an Episcopalian."

Loreen ignores my attempt at humor and studies me. "Hmm. I could be reading that wrong, but I swear, it feels like you've inherited your sensitivity."

"Not unless Mom's holding out on me." I doubt it, though. My mom's as religiously conservative as they come. She wouldn't even let me read
Harry Potter
because she said it was a "training manual" for witchcraft. Whatever! Hello, it's fiction. While I can see Mom clutching the Book of Common Prayer, I can hardly visualize her hunched over a crystal ball hosting a'séance to communicate with the dead. "So you really think
I'm
sensitive?"

A nod from Loreen. "You've only started to open yourself up, and you don't know how to control your gift. The least little thing can set you off with an emotional outburst—anger, nerves, trepidation, fear—anything, especially when you're surrounded by paranormal activity."

I stand up. "What is it with everyone in Radisson being obsessed with ghosts and spirits and shit? Don't you people have a movie theater or HBO?"

"Paranormal elements are very in vogue right now," she says, laughing.

Hand on hip, I retort, "What? Ghosts are the new black?"

"You could say that. We're in an age of awareness and awakening like no other time in our society. A lot of paranormal experts"—she uses finger quotes around the word
experts—
"think there's a thinning of the dimensions surrounding us. It's almost like we're in a new age of enlightenment! I mean, who doesn't have a ghost or angel tale?"

I didn't, until recently.

Loreen adds, "Well, it's not considered taboo anymore."

Needing some distance, I walk over to the bookshelf to review titles:
Awakening Your Psychic Powers; You Are Psychic: The Art of Clairvoyant Reading and Healing;
and
Psychic Development for Beginners.
Are you kidding me? They might as well be titled
Psychics for Dummies.
That would be me, if I were to buy into this.

I'm too confused by all of this information and the physical things that are happening to me. But I'll admit to having a curiosity about this sensitivity Loreen seems to think that I have. "Maybe I should get one of these books. Which one do you recommend?"

Loreen waves her hand, shooing me away. "You don't need anything like that."

Wow, she totally sucks as a saleswoman. How does she pay her rent each month if she doesn't move the merchandise? I bet she's just reeling me in to try and get me to buy something more expensive. Like a chi machine. Marjorie's mom has one, but then, she's a little imbalanced to begin with. She's originally from Los Angeles.

"Come sit back down," Loreen instructs with the warmest smile.

I obey, because I
am
interested. Like, why is this occurring now?

"This awakening is occurring because you're in an incredible hotbed of paranormal activities here in Radisson," Loreen pipes up, answering my unspoken questions and echoing my father's words from earlier. Do they print that phrase in the brochures that the tourism bureau hands out and then make the citizens regurgitate the words ad nauseam? For Christ's sake! "How ... what...?" Man, I've got to be careful with what I think!

"This is an old town, Kendall, full of history and death and battle and scars from the Civil War. There are a lot of energies around that see your shining light of understanding and they're standing up and shouting, 'I'm here!' at you. Your awakening is coinciding with your move and being surrounded by such rich history."

Okay. Hold the phone. Now I ask my questions out loud. "Why wasn't I having all this weird stuff happening to me when I was in Chicago? We
are
the home of Al Capone and his mass-murdering gang of goons, not to mention the infamous Resurrection Mary and all the other ghosts of Archer Avenue."

Marjorie and I got ditched in Resurrection Cemetery on Archer Avenue this one time back in junior high when we were riding around with kids our parents wouldn't have liked for us to associate with. Marjorie swore then a million times over that she actually saw Resurrection Mary, the vanishing hitchhiker, when we were standing outside trying to flag down a ride out of there. She said she saw a woman with blond hair and a white dress not far from us, and then she was gone. I never really believed in things like that—and Marjorie soon got over her fear and denied the alleged sighting later, saying she was having some sort of anxiety attack and had too much adrenaline flooding her system—but now I'm starting to wonder.

"Well sure, Chicago is full of its own ghosts and spirits," Loreen says as she nods. Ha! I've gotten her! "What I'm talking about is more focused on you, Kendall. There, your mind was quiet, and here, it is alive and awake."

"Are you kidding me? It's crazy-quiet now. So much so that I can't sleep at night."

Loreen shakes her strawberry blond hair. "I'm not talking about your surroundings. We're talking about your mind, which is anything but quiet. I bet it's like the Fourth of July in there at times. Are you experiencing loss of sleep, strange appetite, and/or odd pains throughout your body? Vivid dreams, perhaps?"

Oh, right ... Dasani-Blue-Eyed Boy. I gulp hard and nod. "I thought it was the heat."

She adjusts on the couch. "Puberty is usually the time when sensitives have an awakening, so to speak."

"Seriously? Can't I just get a few pimples and have to start using Proactiv like all those famous Hollywood people?"

Loreen chortles, then gets serious again. "I know. I felt the same way when I was your age. Only I was scared out of my wits, hearing and seeing spirits. I fought it for the longest time because I didn't have any place to go for reference, or someone to give me advice and guidance. My parents put me on so many medications, it's a wonder I made it through my teen years with my sensitivity still intact."

I frown in confusion. "I'm not exactly at the beginning of puberty, you know? Could there be another reason?"

Thinking for a moment, Loreen asks, "You came from Chicago, you said?"

"Yep. Gold Coast." That sounds so pretentious, but I'm proud of my former address.

"Hmm ... downtown?"

I confirm with a nod.

"It's pretty simple, Kendall. When you lived in the city, you were surrounded by cars and trucks and noise and people. You didn't allow yourself to slow down enough to know that you have these abilities and gifts. Once you moved to a more tranquil and less frenetic environment, your energies took over and you've become more open. Especially since this town has so much to offer."

"I guess that kind of makes sense." In a warped sort of way.

I begin pacing across the braided rug that feels like it was made from hemp. My fingers find my temples and I rub in slow circles as this info is absorbed. Skepticism washes over me like a summer rain shower. It's hard to believe the words of a stranger who wears a comical T-shirt, runs a New Age shop, and sniffs too much incense eight hours a day. I bet Loreen pulls this crap on every loser who wanders into her store. She's just saying I'm like her to draw me into her clientele web.

Still, she smiles so calmly at me. "Don't you believe you're coming into a psychic awakening?"

I pace more instead of answering. Sure, it was freaky-weird how I knew about Helen Pearlman, her beach house in Florida, and her husband's goiter.
Note to self: Google
goiter
when I get home.

Loreen clears her throat. "It's a swelling in the neck, just below the Adam's apple or larynx, due to an enlarged thyroid gland."

"It's ... I mean ... how did you—?" Holy shit! She's a mind reader. Well, duh! She told me she's psychic.

This is ridiculous. My world is spinning off its axis. There has to be an explanation other than Loreen's crackpot theory. (Stressing the
crackpot
part.) I should stop by my mom's office and have her new doctor-boss check me out. X-ray me. Draw vials of blood to examine and test. Maybe I'm suffering from scarlet fever. Or I've become lactose intolerant? Developed asthma? Become allergic to nuts? Anything!

I'm. Not. Psychic!

If I were psychic, I wouldn't have had such a problem memorizing formulas last year in geometry class. And I would have always known what my Christmas presents were before I unwrapped them.

"I need to go," I say firmly. There's just too much to digest.

Loreen is at my heels. "Wait, Kendall. I'd like to give you something."

She goes over to the front jewelry counter and pulls out a rack of chains with dangling pendants of various shapes, sizes, and designs. "These are dowsing pendulums. Let's see if any of them are reacting to you."

"What do you mean, reacting to me?"

"Here, try this one," she says, handing me a chain with a crystal on it. My question is answered when the pendulum begins to move on its own as it dangles from my grasp. Whoa. What's doing that? I pass the crystal back to Loreen and reach for a shiny silver one on the end of the display.

"I'd stay away from the metal ones," Loreen notes. "Metal conducts electricity, and let's just say it wouldn't be good for a young girl just coming into her gifts."

"Umm ... okay." I don't even know why I'm standing here. What do I need a pendulum for? Isn't that, like, how farmers find where to dig wells and stuff? Since I don't have any livestock in the backyard, nor do I plan on majoring in animal husbandry when I get to college, this seems like an exercise in futility.

Loreen takes another one from the display. "Ah, just as I thought. The pink quartz with the beads of rhodonite and black tourmaline on top is perfect for you."

"Are you making these words up?" I ask. Guess I should take a geology class someday.

She just laughs and passes the pendulum over to me. "Pink quartz is good to start with because it's the stone of love for oneself, family, friends, community, the Earth, et cetera. This will help to heal your heart of any wounds and reawaken your trust with its soothing vibrations."

"But—"

Loreen continues. "The rhodonite promotes the energy of love. What girl doesn't want to enhance depth, clarity, and the meaning of one's inner experiences? Especially when it comes to boys." She elbows me knowingly. "These beads are also good for understanding the messages behind your dreams."

"Oh, that's kind of cool," I say, sort of coming around. Hmm ... maybe this thing will share Dasani-Blue-Eyed Boy's e-mail addy or cell phone number with me.

"Finally, Kendall—and this is important—the black tourmaline is ideal for psychic protection. These crystals act like etheric vacuum cleaners, clearing your surroundings of negativity and disharmony. It's very important as you're discovering and exploring your gifts that you use protection at
all
times."

I feel myself blush horrendously in a blaze of embarrassment from my forehead to my feet. My sex life—or lack thereof—is so totally not any of this woman's business! "Excuse me, but I don't even have a boyfriend! And whenever I get one and the time is right,
of course
I'll use protection. This is the twenty-first century, after all!"

Loreen doubles over laughing, to the point where she has to wipe away tears.

What's so damn funny?

"Oh, Kendall, I'm so sorry," she says when she catches her breath. "I don't mean protection like
that,
I mean protecting yourself from evil spirits or entities and such if you try to explore your abilities."