Free Every Happy Family by Dede Crane Page A

man wants to buy me some cheese.”

    Twenty minutes later, she knows Jonathan has two grown daughters, the younger one a veterinary nurse, the elder a graphic designer recently married and unable to have children. He says nothing about his wife and is not wearing a ring. She buys him another wine and herself another Caesar and tells him the story behind believing Faye did something criminal to her father.
    â€œI did this retreat led by a spirit guide, amazing woman, a psychic really. The work was done in groups and so when it was my turn, I stood in the middle of the circle and had to ask the group my question: Why is it that all my relationships with men end badly?”
    â€œFair enough.”
    â€œOh god, yeah. Not to scare you off or anything.”
    â€œI’m flattered,” he says in a humble, adorable way that makes her heart sway.
    â€œThe group was instructed to tune in to me, meditate on me while holding my question in mind, and then they were to spontaneously express whatever feelings or words or imagery came to them. One woman screamed, more angry scream than fearful. One guy crouched and covered his head. Another woman kept repeating I love you, I hate you, I love you, I hate you, while another said I had big black shoulders.”
    â€œVery odd.”
    â€œVery, but wait. So the leader’s job – she called herself a spirit guide – was to interpret everyone’s response then give me my answer. Oh yeah, one woman was hugging my thigh and another guy was running around the perimeter of the room at a pretty brisk pace. Anyway, do you know what the spirit guide said?”
    â€œCouldn’t begin to –”
    The plane takes a hard bump, then another, and Jonathan sucks in his breath, his eyes darting out the window. The seatbelt sign pops on.
    â€œOut of your control, remember?” Annie says, lifting up her hands. “And turbulence is nothing to worry about.”
    He sighs. “Tell that to my racing heart.”
    She places her mouth in front of his chest. “Turbulence is nothing to worry about.”
    She’s made him smile his wry smile again. She likes making this man smile. “Do you like to cook?”
    â€œLove to cook.” He touches his stomach. “My downfall.”
    â€œNot at all.” She hates to cook. “Food is life affirming.” Faye was a human portrait of denial. At lunch, Les had offered Faye a piece of his untouched mahi mahi because she commented on never having tasted it. He cut off a small section, described it for her, “mild like sole but a meatier texture,” extended the plate, and the look in his eyes, thought Annie, was as if he was offering a piece of himself.
    Faye said one word, “No,” and smirked as if he was being ridiculous.
    The plane bumps again and Annie bounces in her seat just to tease him out of his fear.
    â€œOh, don’t do that,” he says with a shaky smile. “Keep distracting me. Now what did your spirit guide tell you?”
    â€œShe said and I quote: ‘You – meaning me – are carrying around your birth mother’s guilt.’” Annie raises her eyebrow and her index finger. “ Birth mother, she said, though I hadn’t told her I was adopted.”
    â€œHmm.”
    â€œSaid my mother transferred her guilt onto me and I was carrying it right here.” She taps the back of her left shoulder. “And her guilt was from murdering my father.”
    â€œYour birth mother?”
    â€œMurdered my father.”
    â€œThat’s a bit hard to believe.”
    â€œWell, yes, and I had let the whole strange idea slide until I saw a shaman three years later and asked the same question: Why do all my relationships with men end badly? He, I swear, pointed to my left shoulder and said I was carrying around my birth mother’s guilt over murdering my father.”
    â€œAstounding.”
    â€œHe and that spirit-guide woman both