Free Contact by Laurisa Reyes Page A

I’m no con artist. You can believe whatever you want about me. Heck, I don’t know what to believe about me. All I want is. . .”
    My voice trails off. What do I want? Two weeks ago I wanted it all to stop. I wanted to be normal, to be able to touch someone without their whole life being zapped into my brain. But now there’s Mama.
    Dr. Walsh is writing again, this time on the blank backside of a prescription form.
    “The Cayce Institute for Intuitive Studies is located in Virginia, but they’ve recently established a West Coast office about twenty minutes from here in Glendale. If I could arrange it, would you consider letting them evaluate you?”
    “Why?”
    “Well, I think your particular—gift—might be right up their alley. With your permission, I’ll call in a referral.”
    “Sure, I guess.”
    “Good. I’ll schedule an appointment for tomorrow morning. If there’s any conflict, let me know.  In the meantime, tell me about the emotions going on inside of you.”
     
     
    After the appointment is over , I see myself out. Dr. Walsh wanted to know if I was still feeling suicidal. She seemed surprised when I said ‘yes’, though I’ve been too worried about Mama to worry about me. In addition to the Trazodone, she also renewed my prescription of Gaudium.
    “Maybe you have a higher tolerance to it than most people,” she explained, “but one more round should do the trick.”
    One more dose—as if feeling depressed is a virus like the common cold, and Gaudium is nothing more than a mega dose of Vitamin C.
    I’m thinking about Mama when I step out of Dr. Walsh’s office. I don’t notice David until he’s standing right in front of me, a pained expression on his face.
    “You ditched me,” he says.
    I don’t come out of my thoughts easily. It takes me a couple of seconds to realize what he’s talking about. “The park.” It all comes back to me.
    “I waited for more than an hour.” He speaks in a clipped, hurt voice.  “I even came to your house.”
    He did? He came to the mansion?
    “Your place is like Fort Knox. I couldn’t even get to the door before a security guard ushered me away.”
    He came looking for me. In the pouring rain.
    “I texted and called you,” he continues, “but you never replied.”
    “I’m sorry,” I say, but the look on his face tells me he’s not buying my apology. I don’t expect him to.
    He slips his hands into his pockets. His arms are stiff. An invisible wall has already risen between us.
    “Let me explain—”
    “You don’t have to explain anything,” David says. He starts to turn away like he’s cutting off this conversation. He doesn’t want to hear any more.
    “It’s my mom,” I say. “It’s been all over the news.”
    “I don’t pay attention to the news. Too busy,” he says.
    For some reason his indifference hurts deeply. “Well, if you had paid attention you’d know why I couldn’t meet you that night.” I push past him out the door into the parking lot. It’s hot and humid. Sweat gathers on my skin under my hoodie.  Jordan’s car isn’t here yet. When David follows me outside, I have half a mind to walk home just to get away from him.
    “So, are you going to tell me?”
    I ignore him as best as I can, but he steps in front of me. Does this guy ever stop?
    “Okay, look, I didn’t mean to be rude,” he sighs. “If you didn’t want to meet me, just say so and I’ll leave you alone. But I have a right to know.”
    A city bus passes by, its gears grinding and spewing black exhaust. Maybe I’ll flag it down and get on it.
    “It just so happens that my mother is in the hospital. She’s in a coma.” My tone is purposely sharp. “I spent that entire day in emergency with her. So sorry I missed our little rendezvous, but I had more pressing matters to attend to. Now, if you don’t mind, my ride will be here any second.”
    The color in David’s face drains away. The anger in his expression vanishes and in its place