“Oh. Well, I wasn’t really planning a séance. I’m not even
really sure I know what that is.”
“Aww,” said Ron. “Well, what exactly do you do?”
“Don’t pester her, Ron. She doesn’t want to talk about it.”
Frances said.
“No, it’s okay,” said Paloma. She had one of the more
battered flowers in her hand. She petted it and tried to make it look fresh. “I
kind of get a feel for the person, or animal, or even plant or object, and
decide what needs to be done during the first visit. If we can do anything
right then, we do it.”
“Wait, what do you mean ‘plant’?” Frances asked.
“Well, it has happened. Once. A lady called and said she didn’t know why
her plant suddenly started turning yellow and nothing they tried was working.
So I went there and… well the plant seemed happy.”
Ron nodded, grinning.
Paloma continued. “Don’t laugh! I don’t advertise for
plants. But this lady wanted me to go and see about the plant. So, the plant
seemed happy and content. And then I got this real unbelievable thirst, like I
just had chips or pizza and needed a drink.
I asked how much they watered it. The lady said they tried all kinds of
watering. I still felt so thirsty. I asked if there was any possibility someone
could have put salt in the water or on the plant.”
“Is that what it was?” asked Ron.
“I don’t know,” said Paloma. “The lady said she didn’t think
so. But she had a funny look on her face. I never heard from her again.”
Frances looked at Paloma. That was a really pointless story.
Honest. But pointless. Yet, something about it – pizza! “I bought pizza,”
Frances announced. “Hey, your brother’s waking up.”
Paloma, Larry, Frances and Ron sat on Frances’ steps eating
the cold pizza. Larry wasn’t supposed to eat so soon after going to the
dentist, but he was really hungry, he said.
“So, are you going to quit all this psychic stuff?” he asked
his sister. “I was hoping you would. It’s embarrassing being in a psychic
family. Like, I can’t pretend everything’s okay. When me and Jill broke up and
I came to do a load of clothes at mom’s, she was like, “I know everything isn’t
fine,” Larry put on a terrible impression of a nasal-voiced woman. “I can see
that your aura’s all muddy. Fine. Keep it to yourself if you want, but you’re
not fooling me.” Larry bit down on the crunchy crust. “Ow! Ow ow!”
“Well, don’t go to mom’s house when you’re not prepared to
talk about your problems,” said Paloma.
“The only thing I don’t get is why she didn’t try to
diagnose you yet. Your aura probably looks like puke,” said Larry, cheerfully.
“What with having all this post traumatic stress.” He looked at Frances. “So
she didn’t make a good impression, huh? And your house still has ghosts?”
