From Chapter 14, “ESP: Can It Be?”

Scene: The All-Iowa Holistic and Psychic Extravaganza!

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     My turn finally arrives and I take my seat across from Dave. Though I’m a little shy, he quickly puts me at ease.

     “Hello there! What’s your name?” he asks, smiling. I so desperately wanted to reply, “You’re the psychic. You tell me!” Not wanting to get off on the wrong foot, I choose a less snarky path.

     “Barry. What’s yours?” I ask back, making it obvious I’m staring over his shoulder at his huge Dave the Psychic sign. He gets it, chuckles, then begins with a soothing voice.

     “So Barry, this is simple. No gimmicks. No tea leaves or crystal balls. I use my five senses and my second sight...” He makes air quotes to emphasize that last expression, adding “…whatever that is.” I appreciate the self-deprecation. He continues.

     “With these tools, we’ll exchange energy and get into sync. You’ll feel yourself relax a little, but don’t worry. It’s not hypnosis or anything like that. Your heart and mind will let down their guards and tell me a story. I’ll read it back to you as it unfolds before me. Some of it may resonate perfectly. Other parts might seem confusing or surprising. The more you remain open, the better the chances we’ll reveal some truths. Sound okay?”

     “Absolutely!” I reply.

     “Alright, Barry. Let’s begin.”

     Trying to relax, I pull my padded folding chair closer to the table and lean back into it.

     Dave readies himself with some slow, deep breaths. His eyes do this weird thing, rolling up in his skull while his lids flutter for a few seconds. He slumps back in his chair, his hands in his lap, and his gaze now fixed on me.

A long, silent minute passes.

     “Are you recovering from an injury?” he asks.

     “No, I don’t think so.”

     “But I sense something in your leg….your knee. I see you limping. Not today, but I sense a limp. A scar? Past injury?”

     “Oh yes, I tore my knees up good last fall on a gravelly softball field. They’re always bandaged and scabby. Still not healed. You can see that?”

     “I see something. But now I’m getting something else, something more important. You’re worried,” he declares. “Is it your family?”

     “Uhm, yes, probably.”

     “Hmmmm. Your marriage….” he’s scanning me intently. I can feel my eyes open wider in anticipation. “… feels positive. But there’s a child. You’ve got one … that’s … teenaged? Around?”

     “That’s right. Twelve.”

     “Yeah, at that age, the boys are still all goofy and innocent, but the girls are starting to try to grow up too fast. Right?”

     “Oh, man. So true.”

     “You’ve got a girl.”

     “Uh-huh.”

     “Older boys are showing interest. You want to protect her, but you don’t want to smother her … to dim her light …” He trails off. “But there’s also something happening at work that worries you. You’re a professional. Special training. A lot invested. Now you see some people leapfrogging over you. Maybe not fully deserving. Does this make sense?”

      It brings to mind all my rejected article submissions to journals while, at the same time, they publish all sorts of shoddy work. Publications advance careers, so yeah, in a way it does sometimes feel like being left behind. I’m only human.

     “Definitely,” I tell Dave.

     “Don’t let that get to you. Sometimes things seem unfair on the surface, but there’s a bigger picture. Those people pay the price. Some of them hate their jobs or alienate loved ones. Some waste valuable time in turf battles. Does this make sense?”

     “It does.” I sense the clock running, so I ask, “Can we switch topics?”

     “Of course, Barry. Anything.”

“I miss my mom and dad. How do I deal with that? Will it get any easier?”

     “Losing a parent is incredibly tough,” he says comfortingly. Losing both can be devastating. You feel disconnected sometimes. Incomplete. But it makes you appreciate your connections to your partner and your daughter. Any other kids?”

     “No.”

     “Cherish your little girl. Cherish both the females in your life, and all the truly valuable things. The memories of your parents—I see them in a good place. I sense them through you. I sense their pride and love, although they may not have told you enough.”

     He’s right that my parents weren’t expressive toward me. Sometimes one of their friends or a relative would tell me how Mom or Dad went on and on about how proud they were of me and the way I was turning out. That was enough for me. For better or for worse, their parents raised them that way. And I may have over-compensated the other way with my daughter, showering the poor kid with love at every opportunity, whether or not she wanted it.  

     And that’s why, with the clock running out and Dave making me think about parents, love, and children, I get misty. A tear forms at the corner of my eye and rolls down my cheek. From all appearances, I look like any other emotionally satisfied customer.

     Except I’m not.

     Dave confirmed all my suspicions: He’s an obvious fraud.