Despertar

in remembrance of a lunatic

My first experience with a professional psychic was four years ago, on Bourbon Street. Three years ago, I wrote this, about it: "Melvine" 

Interesting, that Katrina hadn't happened by the time I wrote that, which was a year, even, after I saw Melvine. And that, at the time, I didn't even know the term cold reading. To my earlier point, I was so, so young and stupid, then. I still loved Marcus. I still liked Marcus. A thousand times ugh.

Melvine charged me forty-five dollars, which I resented at the time. Now, though, I just hope she got out of New Orleans in time, and that my forty-five dollars bought her a stay a motel in Vicksburg or someplace. And that she found work elsewhere, because I doubt if the street corner psychic profession affords one much in savings.

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My second experience with a professional psychic was eighteen months ago, in the summer before law school. Before dinner at the Baltimore harbor, anxious about my upcoming transition, I went, with Meg (I think?), to buy cheap earrings from a kiosk, and was roped into a palm reading by the salesperson. Her name was Maya, I think? I haggled a price before sitting down (having learned my lesson from Melvine), and, for ten dollars, learned that:

1. ...I get frustrated when no one appreciates how smart I am.

2. ...I'm going to do fine, academically, in college. (When I told her I had just graduated, she assumed I meant college.)

3. ...I'll find my soulmate when I turn twenty-five. He might be someone I know already, maybe or maybe not. He...is probably a twin. (I didn't react because I don't know any adult male twins.) ...Or maybe an only child. (Ditto.) ...Or maybe I don't know him yet, but I'll surely meet him in time. (I'll be twenty-four in two months and I still don't know anyone who fits her loose description.) Also, he'll be "one of [my] kind." (Black? Skinny? Crazy? She didn't specify.)

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Even as recently as Maya, I don't think I was as sure yet as I am now that I don't believe in most things I can't see, things that don't make sense. The idea of second sight makes no sense to me. Same thing with Ouija boards, smudging, seances, vampires.

You'd think that would be sort of a letdown, leaving behind such a wonderfully open mind, closing myself off to the possibility that maybe some lady who sells jewelry at the Inner Harbor knows my future, but actually, it is a wonderful relief.