‘It’s romantic and tragic…’ Words hover on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t quite release them. She leans in closer, and I wonder why I’m sitting in a stranger’s garage, filled with cheap stars and overpowering incense, about to reveal my deepest secret.
‘This sounds interesting. Tell me about this romantic curse.’ She reaches for a glittery lip balm beside her and smears it onto her plump lips.
Last night, I lay awake for hours in bed, imagining how Cynthia would react when I told her about my curse. My brain always starts with the worst-case scenario, so I visualised her giving me a terrified look while I talked about it. This would undoubtedly be followed by her calling the police, and me spending the rest of my life imprisoned in a science lab with wires connected to my head and being studied by scientists. Once my heart had stopped trying to burst out of my chest and I had calmed my breathing, I thought about a different scenario in which Cynthia helped me by casting an ancient spell. The lights overhead would flicker, and we would hear a thunderclap in the sky. The spell would succeed and free me from my suffering. I fell asleep imagining my new life.
I take a deep breath before crossing my fingers in my lap. ‘When I touch people, I see a vision inside my head.’
Cynthia frowns. ‘A vision?’
I nod. ‘It shows how their love story will end.’
‘What do you mean? Can you see if they are going to get dumped?’
‘Yes,’ I sigh. ‘I see the ghosting, the awkward let-downs in coffee shops and the accidents – which always happen to the nice ones on their way to work.’
She fiddles with one of her hoop earrings. ‘Do they come true? Your visions?’
‘Always for the things I see about others. However, with my own life, I have the option to change my fate. If I decide not to pursue love with a person who, in the future, will hurt me, the vision doesn’t come true.’
‘But if you choose to ignore what your curse is showing you?—’
Raising my hand, I interrupt her. ‘It comes true.’
‘What about if the person isn’t in love with anyone?’ Cynthia is stroking her chin. I can see she’s giving my curse some serious thought.
‘I see how they spend their time alone.’ I think about the older man in the football shirt, who had sat next to me on the bus. He’d been wearing shorts, and his bare knee had touched my hand when the bus came to a juddering halt. His vision showed him sitting alone in a tiny studio flat, watching the world go by outside his window. His face was etched with sadness as he watched the loved-up couples walk hand in hand past his house. On his lap was a framed football-themed wedding photo, and on the coffee table in front of him was a book titledHow to Mend a Broken Heart Post Divorce.
Cynthia arches an eyebrow. ‘Are they enjoying being single in your visions?’
I shrug. ‘Some fully embrace not having anyone special in their life, whereas some struggle with loneliness and a broken heart.’
She applies a new layer of lip balm. ‘My best mate is married but is also having an affair with her driving instructor. She’s failed her test six times, but that’s another story. If you touched her hand, what would you see – the saucy driving instructor or her poor husband?’
‘In that situation, it would depend on who has captured her heart.’
Cynthia nods. ‘You would see how things end with the driving instructor and his lessons, which are conducted from his back seat.’ She sighs. ‘And you want to get rid of this wonderful gift?’
I nod and correct her. ‘It’s a curse. Not a gift.’
‘Does this curse work on demand?’
‘Yes.’
She lights a silver candle beside us. ‘Do you have to touch a specific part of someone for it to work?’
‘It must be skin-to-skin contact. I can’t see anything through clothes.’
Her eyebrows rise. ‘Interesting. Do your visions ever change?’
This feels more like an interrogation than a psychic reading. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you see different visions every time you touch someone?’
I shake my head. ‘I see the same vision unless something has changed, like if someone has died or a new person has entered their life.’
She extends her heavily spray-tanned arm towards me and smiles. ‘Touch me. I have some suspicions about my boyfriend, so let’s see how good your curse is.’
After a deep breath, I touch her fingers. There is a flash of bright light before my eyes. It clears, and I see a burly man with a bald head sitting in a lorry cab kissing a woman with long black hair who wears a skintight pink dress.
