“It’s not necessary,” I say. “What is psychic counseling, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Molly nods. “So, I use psychic impressions to help guide you both through whatever life is throwing your way. Why don’t we sit down?” Molly makes a beeline for an armchair. “You two hop on the sofa there.”
“You really want to do this right now?” I am not panicking. It just sounds like it. “Um.”
Nash frowns in contemplation, and then pushes me oh so gently forward with a hand to the small of my back. “Come, my heart.”
“Didn’t you have that thing you had to do?” I ask. “That urgent thing?”
He hesitates.
“Nothing could be as urgent as your love for each other,” says Grandma, who is actually kind of evil when you get right down to it. And she doesn’t believe in psychic anything. I know she wasn’t happy about me providing Nash with a cover story. She told me of her many misgivings at length last night, after the movie. She doesn’t like to see me lying to everyone in town, which is fair enough. Though her supporting this couple’s counseling farce seems extreme.
“I just think it would be better if we had time to prepare.” I don’t want to sound like I’m digging in my heels, but I’m close. This is a test we have in no way studied for. We need to carefully construct our full backstory. I’m thinking a PowerPoint presentation with a pie graph or two. “How about we meet at your office tomorrow?”
“Sessions are typically held in the client’s home,” says Molly. “And unfortunately, I’m booked out for the rest of the week. This gap in my calendar was like a gift from the universe just for you two.”
“Such a gift,” says Nash.
Grandma pours herself a glass of orange juice. “There’s no time like the present.”
It’s been years since I’ve been on the receiving end of what I call Grandma’s teach-you-a-lesson face. And it’s not as if we spent a huge amount of time together when I was growing up.
However, I distinctly remember when I insisted on wearing my shoes on the wrong feet. I may have briefly thought I knew everything when I was six. The shoes rubbed and I got a blister and she made the same face at me. I had no idea I’d been carrying this childhood trauma around all these years, but here we are. Her expression is giving me flashbacks.
Molly happy-sighs and digs a quartz point out of her purse. “This is a safe space for open hearts and minds. Come and join me.”
Nash and I sit on the sofa together. Both of us wearing forced smiles. I have such a bad feeling about this.
“By the way,” says Molly. “Don’t worry about the cost of ongoing counseling. I have payment plans to suit every budget.”
Nash nods. “What a relief.”
“Why don’t we start by clearing the air?” the therapist proposes. “I know you had a robust discussion in the bar the other night. But revisiting where you each feel things went astray can help pave the way forward. Nash, you have some murky dark red in your aura, would you like to start?”
“What does that mean?” he asks. “Murky dark red?”
“It often indicates frustration, stifled feelings, and stress.”
His brows rise. “Huh.”
“So what would you like to get off your chest?” asks Molly.
“Yeah,” he says, dragging the word out. “Why don’t you take the lead, June?”
“But she asked you,” I say.
“Ladies first.”
“What about the murky dark red? I wouldn’t want you to feel frustrated, stifled, or stressed about not being heard.”
Nash grins. “Oh no fear of that, my moon and stars.”
“Fine.” My spine is ramrod straight on the overstuffed white lounge.
“Whenever you’re ready,” says Molly, setting an alarm for the session on her phone. Forty-five minutes.Shit. There’s no way in hell we can sustain this ruse for so long. We are doomed.
Nash gives me an encouraging smile. My brain, however, is a vast empty space. Thinking in the morning with no caffeine is just a no. A whole big wide world of it.
