2
I open my eyes. "How is this possible?" I ask.
I'm sitting up, now, on the leather chair at Mistress Karen's place.
"It went well," the woman says. She's too old for so much cleavage. And so many gaudy necklaces. And so many bangles on her wrists. She looks like a street vendor for pre-teen jewellery.
"I don't understand," I say. "It was real. Like it was my own memory."
"Ancestral memory," Karen says, sweeping a too-long clump of bangs out of her dark eyes. "It's a real thing."
"I didn't believe you."
"You paid up front."
"My kid did."
"What?"
"My eighteen year old, Samantha. She paid. She came here a few months back and said you were the real deal."
"Good word of mouth."
"Do you remember her? Blonde, sleight, big boobs and hips like her mom. Said she talked to you about the night terrors she had when she was little."
Mistress Karen's lips wrinkle in a half-smile. "I do remember her."
"Anyway, this was my birthday present. I was disappointed," I say.
"I wouldn't have to be a fortune-teller to notice that. Your face said you thought you were walking into a frozen yogurt factory where they only had soft-serve turds left."
"That's very descriptive."
"I have many talents. Are you satisfied?"
"I don't know that it's the right word. I can't even believe it. I mean, I know I can't believe it." I shake my head and stand up. "You played a nice trick. Hypnosis, is it?"
"I don't do hypnosis, Mr. Heller."
"That's not how my father died," I say. My head hurts. It's like I had a long, deep dream, the kind that leaves you with an emotion after it fades. "You didn't do what I asked."
"You're not going to ask for your money back, are you?" Karen said.
"No. No I don't care about the money."
"Your daughter paid after all."
"I have to go."
"Wait, Mr. Heller, please. You must stay. If only briefly. I must interpret what you saw."
"I bet that costs extra," I say, heading for the beaded curtains.
"Stop! Stop right there, Mr. Heller!"
Her voice has changed. There is real desperation in it. So much that my feet stop without command.
"Why are you yelling at me?" I ask.
She's shaken. Her outburst has removed her outer calm. Something is terribly wrong.
"What's going on?"
"I didn't want to alarm you," she says. A tear escapes one eye and she wipes it away, bangles clicking. "I was keeping it together for your sake. Normally, I'm good at that, even in the face of such news."
"Such news?"
"Please. Come back and sit down. I have no other appointments this evening."
"That's the least of my concerns."
"Please."
I put my hands to my hips. "Why? Why should I? I don't know what you just did to me, but it was bullshit. I'm standing here in awe of your amazing powers."
"You wanted to know what really happened the night your father –"
"I know what I said! That…that vision didn't make any sense. Did Asian horror movies even exist when my dad was alive?"
"I'm sure they did in some form, but you're forgetting the rules of this, Mr. Heller. You got to see through his eyes, feel some of his feelings. But you're narrating to me, so the details and the interpretations of those feelings are going to be in your words."
"This is mumbo-jumbo. I'm leaving."
I make it to the front door.
"You're in danger."
"Fuck off."
"Your family is in danger."
I spin back. I've just pushed the door enough for the little bell to go off, now it gets a double ring as I let it slide closed.
"What did you just say?"
"You heard me, Mr. Heller."
"Are you threatening me?"
The woman throws her hands in the air. "You sound like a television show. Are you really this kind of man? The sort that denies the reality before him? Are you so weak that you can't handle change? Or truth? Or revelation?"
"What do you mean my family is in danger?"
"The creature from your ancestral memory, the thing you described that stalked and killed your father, I fear it's…a special kind of monster."
"This is absurd! You accuse me of sounding like I'm in a TV show? You're a fortune teller who's about to tell me about some weird creature! I think I've seen this literally a thousand times!"
"Not literally."
"Literally!"
Mistress Karen sighed, putting her fingers to her temples. "Your daughter must take after her mother."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"She's not a giant asshole!"
There is fire in what she's saying, but she's given up trying to keep me here. For some reason, it bothers me more than the threats and the lies and the tricks.
"How do you live with yourself, tricking people?"
Mistress Karen sits down behind the till at the front of the shop. Between the front door and the beaded curtain is an assortment of oddities and monstrosities, false antiques and stuffed shrunken heads.
