Remember The Moon by Carter Abigail;

Author:Carter, Abigail;
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-9911050-0-7
Publisher: Lemon Bird Press

Chapter Thirteen

THE PSYCHIC

Apparently anxious to connect with me in my nefarious world, it didn’t take long for Maya to call the psychic. I was eager to communicate with Maya as well, excited by the prospect of being able to tell her how sorry I was, that I missed and loved her. It seemed an easier way to communicate than inserting myself into the consciousness of crows in hopes that their symbolism would be seen and understood by her. I practiced the tricks I learned from Alice and my dad to alert Maya to my presence – turning on lights by manipulating electrical circuitry with thought; selecting my favorite songs to play on the radio as she drove Calder to school using electrical thoughts to manipulate radio waves; or aligning my presence with the molecules of a particular smell (the orange blossoms of Italy).

I found ways to present myself to Maya in the form of a blackbird or crow. I could only combine my consciousness into that of an animal for very short periods of time, but I enjoyed staring into our living room window from the roof of the garage, unblinking, spying on Maya and Calder and then being able to swoop down to the ground in one swift movement, my altered weightlessness both freeing and confining at once. A heady sensation, being re-united with the yoke of gravity when one is accustomed to being matter-less. I couldn’t be sure if she would notice any of these signs, but grieving people seemed willing and open to any sort of connection with the newly dead.

Molly, in her email to Maya, said her friend raved about Liz’s accuracy, but she admitted her nervousness about making an appointment for herself. For a few days, Maya let the email languish in her inbox, perhaps afraid of unleashing emotions she had carefully put to bed after almost a year of widowhood. I had to cajole Maya into calling Liz, visiting her in a dream and employing dream Liz to walk along the beach with me, hoping she might convince Maya of her legitimacy. I didn’t anticipate that conjuring Liz for my dream was akin to calling her on the phone, pronouncing my desire to communicate with Maya.

By then Christmas arrived, and Maya forgot about the psychic idea in her effort to make it through the holiday, hosting her parents and pretending all was as it had once been. When school started up in the New Year, Maya needed time to recover, but when I sensed she was ready, I visited her in my crow form each day as she ate her breakfast, cawing at her to make the phone call. It took a few weeks for Maya to muster the courage to call, but Liz was prepared, even telling Maya that I had already visited her and that she had been expecting Maya's call.

Liz arrived at the house a few weeks later, a month or so after the one-year anniversary of my death, while Calder played at a friend’s.

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