Free Psychic Junkie by Sarah Lassez

Me? Someone tells me of a good psychic and I’ve made an appointment before the story’s even finished.
    One of the first times I discovered this about myself was when a friend told me about Drew. “He was so right on I was terrified! I couldn’t sleep for days!” With glowing reviews like that, how could I stay away? Next thing I knew I was parked in front of a smog-gray apartment building in the midst of Culver City, certainly not a mecca of spirituality but close enough to Sony Entertainment Studios that I’d known how to get there without a map, an accomplishment that always gave me a slight thrill.
    I stared at the bars on the lower windows and began to doubt myself. Was this wise? But I’d heard such good things about him, how could I walk away? Whatever. As long as there wasn’t a gigantic fluorescent hand in the front yard, I figured I was doing okay. In I went.
    Drew was about seven feet tall, super thin, and had a voice like a drag queen on helium. Part of me instantly loved him and wanted him to be my new best friend, while the other part was already checking for escape routes.
    “Your grandmother’s spirit is here,” he said immediately.
    I scooted my chair in closer to the kitchen table, relieved. See? Everything’s fine.
    He made a little tsk-tsking sound. “And boy is she pissed .”
    I looked up and caught him rolling his eyes, like he and my grandmother went way back and this was just so typical of her.
    “She’s really upset you’re here, getting this reading. Don’t worry, though. I’m gonna send my grandma’s spirit to talk to yours. She’ll settle down.”
    Okay then , I thought, envisioning some spiritual conference with ghostly shrieking little old ladies.
    I can’t say it got much better. When I pulled out a photo of Jonas, excited for confirmation that he was indeed the love of my life, Drew was silent. He chewed his lip, studying the photo as if he’d have to do a police sketch later. Finally he spoke. “Is this your brother?”
    To say I was horrified would be an understatement. No one wants to think of their boyfriend as their brother—but even more upsetting, I don’t have a brother, nor do I have a sister, so what did this say about Drew’s psychic ability? I’d just paid this man a hundred dollars to fully creep me out. “No, that’s my boyfriend .”
    Drew shook his head and tossed the photo on the table. “Oh, no, honey. He’s not the one for you.”
    I was shattered, completely devastated, and trying not to lose it in Drew’s kitchen. All my emotions were careening, and I felt the need to upheave the table, cry like a fiend, and pelt Drew with the salt and pepper shakers. Perhaps he saw the look of trauma on my face, or realized I hadn’t taken a breath since he’d last spoken, but he picked up the picture once more. “You guys aren’t done, though.”
    Gee, thanks.
    “You still have more growing to do. The guy you’re with after him? He’s the one you’ll marry.”
     
    The devastation hit me in bits and pieces. I didn’t know what to think anymore. Jonas and I did have problems, problems that developed after our peaceful honeymoon period, problems I’d overlooked due to Aurelia’s insistence that we were meant to be. I’d started to wonder, for instance, how two people could be meant to spend a lifetime together if they couldn’t even decide on dinner without breaking into a brawl. Or, for that matter, how enjoyable that love would be if progress was considered backing out of the driveway without already having commenced in the screaming match. Gina, who was now dating an Irish musician and suffering for such a perilous choice, tried to comfort me. “Listen to yourself ,” she said. So I turned to my tarot cards, asking over and over again how I truly felt.
    The splinters in our relationship burrowed deeper each day, and our fights began to escalate to sensational proportions. Putting two actors together could be risky, but when those actors