Jen joined the Stevie Nicks look-alike in the other room as I looked down at my phone. A text message from Freddie…I was scared to see what it said. Our last communication was pretty much me not returning his calls or messages. I had my own reasons to not want to talk to him. That was a year ago, and now here I was getting ready to open Pandora’s Box…again.

“Who is this?” the text message read. I wasn’t surprised. I had changed my number in the midst of ghosting him last year. “It’s Christin”, I typed. I wasn’t really sure what to say beyond that. I put my phone away, not wanting to deal with this complex, drawn out situation at the moment. I had bigger, more urgent issues to worry about, like how I was going to have pry that black cat out of Jen’s arms when she came out of the Patchouli room.

I stepped outside for a moment, inhaling the salty, cool air. The sky was clear this night. You could see every star in the sky. I spotted Cassiopeia and the big dipper amongst the maze of lights. For just a moment, my thought returned to Freddie. What was that? I heard something. Loud voices were coming from the house. I walked back in to hear something about credentials. Oh great, Jen was debating with the psychic about her credentials and legitimacy. I listened closely, making sure Gypsy wasn’t putting performing some kind of weird ritual on Jen, while checking out the weird art on the walls. Gothic animal shapes and bizarre pictures of Egyptians filled the walls, top to bottom. . The only exception was a picture of a handsome young man standing in front of the house that was neatly tucked into this collage of bizarreness. I heard voices and footsteps coming towards the front of the house and suddenly Jen and Gypsy appeared through the barrage of beads.

“I don’t believe this is legit, I want to see your credentials!”

“My credentials? What are you talking about?”

At this point I had one foot out the door, but this innocent visit with the psychic took a turn, that Gypsy the psychic nor I could not have foreseen.