Sister Sandy 2.0 (Blogophilia 49.15)

Broken down buildings and junkies filled this part of Moreland Ave, one whose heyday was far in the past. A faded PBR sign became animated, beckoning him to stop. Have a drink and  forget your problems. Maybe pick up an American Woman for company. That was a lie. There would be no sugar tonight. Waking up with a headache didn’t interest him. Sarah was still dead. 

A gold Cadillac with a sticker saying “In Memory of Darius, 1997-2008  was in front of him. Maybe he should put one of those on his car for Sarah? No. Can’t have the attention. He drove an anonymous metal lump. He tugged at his collar. God, it was hot. He shouldn’t have worn long sleeves.

He flipped on the radio and rolled down his window. A song came on about being fine or closer to it. Another total lie. Nothing was ever fine. Mother’s whisky tinged voice began yelling in his ear. Talk to the lady. What she had to say may be bullshit, but validation and clarity in how to proceed was needed. 

Nah. He was sort of responsible for her death. He stopped. No, he wasn’t. It was Mother’s fault. Everything was Mother’s fault. Mother’s voice screamed it was a lie. You wielded the bat against my head. Fear began to rise in him. 

“Focus, Jeremy.” He muttered under his breath. “She won’t be able to help if you are distracted.” The voice stilled and his breathing slowed. He made the final turn on to Candler Street. Just a couple of more blocks and maybe there would be an answer.  

The bungalow was tucked behind a tire store. It was the same as he remembered, needing a coat of paint. The purple neon hand shouted out:

Sister Sandy

Psychic Readings

Spiritual Counseling

A welcoming chime rang as he opened the door. The place hadn’t changed much. The small table with a laptop and a pair of club chairs sat on the wall opposite the door. Beaded curtains hung from the doorways on either side. A framed star chart hung on the gray wall between them. 

“Be with you in a minute. Please have a seat at the table.”

Sister Sandy was the first person to show anything but hatred towards him. The lighthouse in the mental storm, gentle and open. Better than any of the so-called professionals in the hospital.  He appreciated her ability to read his mind. The first time he had come here was maybe a week or two after he was released. The visit allowed him to establish a small space in the world.

Bookshelves lined the right hand wall filled with titles like “Druids of the Modern World” and “Automating Your Charts.” A crystal sphere and a stack of tarot decks were arranged along the shelf behind the table. They were for decoration only. Sandy was a woman of the modern age, preferring modern tools to tradition. Every reading he’d had was on software she claimed to have written.  He never believed it, but he never called her on it. More often than not, she had pointed him in the right direction.

A photograph of Bran Castle caught his attention. A much younger Sandy and her late husband, Bobby, were posed at the door. Other than being kind of fat, there wasn’t anything remarkable about him. Happier times, when she did readings for fun and not for a living. Bobby died suddenly during the trip. Something about falling, but she never elaborated where or what. 

Jeremy shrugged. Life sucks for everyone, he guessed. It was their connection.

Next to the photo was an etching of Vlad Tepes, the inspiration for Dracula. He had read Dracula meant devil in the local language. Tepes certainly played the part. Harsh and cruel, his reputation as one of the great villains of history was deserved. The rumors of him drinking the blood of his enemies as they hung from their stakes It was the ultimate insult to the deceased. Life essences sucked from the helpless as they hung. It didn’t matter whether they were men or women. They all felt his wrath.  Jeremy loved the thought of the cops on stakes, squirming and calling for the relief of death. Better than Stoker’s romanticized legend, at least in his mind. 

Sandy emerged from the doorway on the right. Petite, she wore a pale blue sleeveless blouse and a pair of white drawstring pants. Her blond hair framed almond eyes and ruby beak. She was bird-like, flitting from one perch to another and then finally grasping the back of her chair.

“Jeremy! How good to see you!” Grabbing his hand, she pressed him into one of the chairs. 

Stepping over to the bookcase, she filled two chipped cups from a pot behind the table..

“So, what kind of mischief have you gotten yourself into? You don’t come unless there's a nefarious plan in that twisted brain of yours.”

She knew him too well.

“Oh,I don’t really need to know, Sugar.” She smiled as she handed over a cup. “We’ll build your dream soon enough.”

“Yes.” 

He took a sip and let the warmth flow through. Chamomile was better than any hospital drugs. Stress lines on his face melted into smudges. The smell of gardenias surrounded him. Closing his eyes, he let Sarah’s spirit come forward, an angel sitting on his right shoulder.

Sandy settled into the high backed chair and powered the laptop, light reflecting off her small face. She kept the conversation going while the program loaded.

“You were looking at Vlad.” She said pressing the keys.”He wasn’t the only occupant of the place, you know?” 

“Yes. But he was the most important.”

“Why do you say that?” The cards began their animated shuffle. 

Jeremy seemed to be lost in thought.

“Everything he did was final. There were never loose ends.”

“And you are worried about some loose ends, maybe from Sarah’s death?”

The angel on Jeremy’s shoulder blushed. She knew the answer and yet, did not speak.

“I accept loose ends.” Jeremy took a small sip of the tea and looked at his lap. “Even when I die, there will be loose ends to handle. But it will be someone else’s problem.” He paused for effect.  “I will be dust.”

“Yes. But your Karma will remain for you to settle, maybe in your next life.”

Jeremy put his mug down and looked straight at the psychic.

“What other life? Sarah and Mother are gone.” His voice was steady. “I killed them in the fire. There is no other life to infect. The ends should be allowed to wither.” 

Sarah disappeared off his shoulder. She knew he was too far gone to save.

Picking up the mug again, he continued.

“I am working on a project at my apartment, a self improvement course designed to rid myself of toxic influences in my life” 

The Psychic grinned. “Let’s get started, then.”

She turned the screen to the side so they both could see. Three cards were laid face down in a triangle. 

  

“Since it is late, We’re going to do a three card spread. It should give us enough information to work with.”

Touching a key, the card at the lower left opened up. 

“The first card is Nine of Swords Reversed. The card is sometimes referred to as The Nightmare. The first card represents the past. There is a lot of pain and misery in your past as we have discussed before. Interesting the card was dealt in reverse. It could signify a healing of the wound. It could also mean there is someone in your sphere you distrust for some reason. Let’s draw the next card.”

Sandy took a sip of tea and touched again. Her eyes widened a little.

“The second card represents the present and it is the Eight of Wands. It is upright.” 

She took a moment to contemplate what it meant. It was part of the show to add dramatic tension and draw the client into the story. But the card did make her uneasy. 

“A change is coming in your life. It will be sudden, too fast for you to immediately handle.” Sandy paused. “This could be an opportunity whose window has opened but is now rapidly closing. You instinctively know it, but you may not be prepared to act. In combination with the first card, it would be unwise to act without a complete analysis of the situation.  

So, what does the future have?

Sandy touched the key for the final time. They looked at each other in silence. The smell of her perfume clouded his brain. Finally, she began to speak.

“The final card is Death, upright. The final card represents the future. In this instance it doesn’t mean your physical death. Rather it means the end of a cycle. In combination with the other two cards, it may mean a major conflict in your life is resolving, for ill or good. This is always a two edged sword, however. You may want the resolution to be one thing and the fates will capriciously deliver the opposite. The fates don’t care a lot of times. I swear they think we exist for their amusement. With what we have here, you may think you are on the road to enlightenment, when in fact you are on the road to perdition.”

She refilled their cups. There was a lot to digest and only time could do that. 

Finally, Sandy spoke.

“I hoped I crafted the dream you were looking for, Sweetheart. It’s twenty five dollars.”

Jeremy slowly rose, trembling.  He pulled the money out and placed it on the table.

“Yes, Ma’am. I think you have.”