Her: A Memoir (28 page)

The woman looked unconcerned. “I’m so sorry, but we haven’t any left to give.”

“Her identical twin has recently passed away. She’s in need of a token.”

I didn’t correct him. I hadn’t seen him since the funeral, so this apparent lie must have been truth for him. As I stood before him my loss was as fresh to him as the day Cara had died.

The woman smiled at me in a way I’d come to recognize. She pitied me. She reached into an envelope that sat beside stacks of cash in the register and pulled out a token. “These are reserved for special cases,” she said and handed one to me.

I looked away from her and toward the convention floor.

I’d made a picture once of Cara and me atop a frozen field, beneath a gnarled apple tree, on a red blanket, kneeling, holding hands. In the picture the red of the blanket is radiant, floating magically off of the bright white snow like a flying carpet. We posed kissing on the lips, porcelain urns turned in to face each other. It was the coldest day I can remember being outside in all of my life. The two of us held still, face-to-face, our breath freezing the other’s rouged cheeks. Our eyes stung from the bitter wind, tears pooling at their corners. We blinked them away as best we could, but I left the shoot with a frostbitten tear duct.

“Sexy, sexy,” Cara teased, trying not to move her mouth so the picture would be sharp. We put our hands in each other’s pockets to keep warm between exposures. Cara had forgotten her gloves, so I gave her mine, a bright red pair with short-cuffed wrists. In the picture I hold her red-gloved hands tightly, my Lady Macbeth. We laughed as we tried our best to pose seriously, waiting for the timer to wind down and the shutter to click. We giggled as we harmlessly pecked our twin-lipsticked mouths.

It looked as if Amma was doing the same face-to-face, leaning-into, hand-clutching, and loving, but with strangers, and while we all watched.

Amma, tiny, in a blazing green sari, hunched over a man who clung to her as she swayed back and forth with him in her arms. His arms were bony, arthritic; he wrapped them around her waist as she held him; he lunged forward into her arms, pressed himself with force against her. His head hung down over her left shoulder; his face turned in toward her neck.

It appeared from where we stood that Amma had cronies. Pairs of men stood on either side of her, collecting hug tokens, like ride operators at a carnival. Stiff backed, they lined people up single file in front of the saint, escorted one person at a time to Amma, hurried people along. It was an assembly line of touch. The men seemed to be timing each embrace. After a few seconds, one walked over to Amma and bent down, put his hands over the shoulders of the devotee she held, and ripped the person out of Amma’s arms. One person was pried out of a hug and another was promptly pushed into one. Push. Pull. Push. Pull. Worshippers emerged from Amma’s embrace shell-shocked, shipwrecked.

Brian and I went downstairs and waited our turn. We stood in line and were cattled forward. Brian was at the front of the line and turned around to face me; he grabbed for my hand and held on to it, squeezed. He was pushed forward into his hug, went down on his knees, and accepted it fully, buried his face in Amma’s breast. Amma patted his back. Brian was up as quickly as he’d gone down. I was next, pulled forward and pushed down onto my knees, directed with force into Amma’s embrace. She spoke quietly and in Hindi, ran her hands over my bare arms. She held me the same as she did all of the others, until she didn’t.

She stopped her hug and put her hands on my chest, thrusting me away from her as if she’d made a mistake. The move was cold and deliberate, certain. She looked at me and shook her head, motioned to one of the men standing beside her to come over to us. He seemed to understand what this all meant; he pulled me up by one arm and forced me down onto the floor, beside Amma.

“Don’t get up,” he said. “She wants you to watch.” He put his hands on my chin and turned my gaze to face the line of people waiting for Amma.

For twenty minutes I watched. I studied the scene as people made their way to Amma. I viewed their faces. I looked on as people wept on her shoulder, snotted on her dress sleeve, begged her not to let them go, to hold them for a second longer. The room was full of need, and I shared it. Person after person approached the saint with looks of relief, only to be forced away in even greater need: the necessity for another hit of solace, another hug, and another chance. We were all starving; there was no end to our urgent hunger.

“You’re done now,” one of the cronies said, helping me to my feet, brushing the hair out of my eyes. I was weeping, too. “This is for you.” He placed an apple, shiny and red, into one of my hands, a Hershey’s kiss wrapped in silver foil into the other. “Amma wants you to consider
how
to eat the apple,” he said, directing me back to the busy convention floor. I took a bite, and then another; I ate the apple and all its seeds.

Chapter 28

J
ULY 2010

PSYCHIC:
Before we get started: Some of my clients are very focused on connecting with people that are passed. Some of my clients are not interested in that; they are more interested in a psychic reading about whatever is happening in their lives. But I like to know if you have a strong focus in one direction or the other, so I know how to focus for you.

ME:
My focus is on making a connection with a lost person in my life.

PSYCHIC:
The way I like to start is I like to begin by tuning in to try to see who I’m picking up. Keep in mind, like it says on my website, the person that you want to communicate with might not be the first person that comes through.… There is usually a group of people, so it’s really important to just be open to whoever comes through, because we don’t have any control over that. If someone wants to say hi, they will.

ME:
Okay.

PSYCHIC:
One of the reasons I give you the recording is because it’s also really, really common that at the time of the reading I may bring through people, or I’ll talk about events—things that you just, you just can’t identify what I’m talking about at the time of the reading.… Please do not dismiss it as wrong—I’ve been doing this a long time for a lot of people.…

ME:
Okay.

PSYCHIC:
Spirits will often bring through things that you don’t know at the time of the reading on purpose, to prove to you that I’m not some sort of mentalist or mind reader, and that it’s really them talking to you.

ME:
Okay, great.

PSYCHIC:
[Clears her throat.] Okay, so the way I’d like to start is I’d like you to close your eyes for just a moment and I want you to take a nice deep breath. I want you to pick one person who is passed over to the spirit side. I want you to focus on connecting with that person, get a good picture of them in your mind, as you remember them last—when they were really happy and healthy and well.… While you’re focusing, I want to take a few seconds and be quiet and focus in on the energies that I’m picking up around you. [Psychic pauses. Waits several seconds.] Immediately I’m picking up the energies of three females. The first thing I want to ask you, is your mother passed over?

ME:
No.

PSYCHIC:
I’ve got a mom with three sisters. Do you have a grandmother that has passed who had two sisters that would be passed, too? Like, two great-aunts to you?

ME:
Yes.

PSYCHIC:
I feel like she’s connected to your mother’s side of the family. Is she?

ME:
Yes.

PSYCHIC:
I see her very much connected to your mom—I wasn’t sure if it was your mom, or your mom’s mom. But, I definitely have her here. I have her coming strongly through with two sisters. I see one standing on either side of her—if that makes sense to you?

ME:
It does.

PSYCHIC:
She’s acknowledging a little small dog. I don’t know if this is her dog, your dog, your mother’s dog—but she’s showing me a little small dog that to me looks either like a Yorkie or a terrier, or a kind of Benji-like dog. Do you know who that dog is?

ME:
Yes, I do.

PSYCHIC:
Is that your dog growing up? Or, is it your mom’s?

ME:
My mother’s.

PSYCHIC:
The woman I have here wants me to acknowledge that she has the dog with her. It’s one of those little details that only you and she would know.

ME:
Well—I never met her. She died before I was born and the dog died long before she did. But, I think the dog was my mother’s childhood dog.

PSYCHIC:
She’s also showing me a Persian cat, a very fluffy-looking Persian-type cat. I think it’s either white or very light in color.

ME:
[Laughing.] Yes, yes.

PSYCHIC:
Whose cat is that, Mom’s?

ME:
Yes.

PSYCHIC:
Is the cat passed over or still with Mom?

ME:
The cat is still with Mom.

PSYCHIC:
Okay, she’s acknowledging the cat that Mom still has. It’s really, really fluffy. [Pauses.] Do you have a fiancé that has passed? Or a boyfriend?

ME:
I don’t think he’s passed, no. But I did have a boyfriend who was a drug addict. I don’t know if he’s alive or not.

PSYCHIC:
That’s interesting. She’s showing me this image of a young male that to me feels like a boyfriend. Do you have a brother that passed?

ME:
No.

PSYCHIC:
So, it’s not a brother. Hold on, let me see. [She pauses, sighs.] Yeah, she’s showing me this man. She’s telling me that he’s still alive but her words are, “At the rate he’s going, his days are numbered quickly.”

ME:
Oh, good.

PSYCHIC:
I don’t know how much longer he’s going to live. Was he a heavy user, specifically of hard drugs? I see him crushing up prescription pills and injecting them—pills like OxyContin or heroin.

ME:
Yes, that’s right.

*   *   *

PSYCHIC:
There is also a young female here.

ME:
Okay. [Voice lifts and breaks.]

PSYCHIC:
Is this your sister that has passed?

ME:
Yes, yes. [Crying.]

PSYCHIC:
First of all, I’m really sorry because I know this is really hard and very emotional for you. [Psychic pauses.] Did your sister die by suicide?

ME:
[Sniffling.] It’s unclear.

PSYCHIC:
Okay, so we are going to talk about that. She is talking about having a history of eating disorders. Are you aware of that, that she had that? Wait. Is she talking about herself or is she talking about you? I see somebody battling with anorexia?

ME:
That’s me.

PSYCHIC:
It’s you?

ME:
Yes.

PSYCHIC:
Are you still having that problem or is that something from the past that she’s talking about?

ME:
It’s in the past but it comes up.

PSYCHIC:
Yeah, all right. I understand. That is the kind of thing that will never really be gone.

ME:
[Breathing heavily into the receiver, weeping.]

PSYCHIC:
Okay, take a deep breath. I know this is hard. Your sister, she’s just as emotional as you are. She’s very upset. Is this pretty recent? Did this just happen six or eight months ago?

ME:
No. It was four years ago.

PSYCHIC:
Okay, what’s been going on recently, like in the last six or eight months to a year? Are you going through a divorce or something?

ME:
Yes, I’m divorced.

PSYCHIC:
Did that just happen in the last year?

ME:
It happened a year and a half ago, legally.

PSYCHIC:
She’s talking about there being a lot of intensity in your life. She’s telling me that it’s pushing you into a place of being overwhelmed. Does this make sense to you? She’s keeping a close eye on you. I want you to know that she’s always around you. She’s watching out for you. She’s telling me that maybe not at the very end of her life—but for most of her life—the two of you were really very close, very bonded. Is she your older sister?

ME:
No.

PSYCHIC:
Okay, you’re older. Are you about three to four years apart?

ME:
No.

PSYCHIC:
Oh my gosh! You’re twins. No wonder you’re so incredibly bonded. [Psychic pauses.] I’m not sure what this is about. Did either you or your sister use a bronchial inhaler?

ME:
Yes! Yes!

PSYCHIC:
Who uses that?

ME:
I do.

PSYCHIC:
Okay, so were you prescribed that for asthma?

ME:
[Answers nearly inaudibly.] Yes.

PSYCHIC:
She says you’re really having panic attacks. Do you recognize you are having panic attacks?

ME:
Now I do, yes.

PSYCHIC:
Sometimes you get so you can’t breathe, right?

ME:
Yes.

PSYCHIC:
Have you tried to go to any kind of counseling?

ME:
Oh God, yes.

PSYCHIC:
Is that helping at all with the panic?

ME:
Ugh, yes.

PSYCHIC:
Okay, good.

ME:
You can tell her—you can tell my sister that I’m doing much better.

PSYCHIC:
She’s talking about how when you feel like you’re out of control, have the feeling of an overwhelming lack of control, or when you’re fearful that things will happen outside of your control—she’s saying, that’s when you can’t breathe. When your sister passed did they find a bunch of pills, prescription pills?