Shopping with her aunt turned out to be the most excruciating experience for Emily. For Mrs. Stuart, it was a game on how cheap she could get an item for, even inside shops that had fixed prices on their items. For Emily, it was handing out polite smiles, trying to pass a message of I know, I know.

Emily followed her around as she hoped from store to store, looking for whatever they needed. It was at a vintage thrift shop that Mrs. Stuart bumped into one of her old friends and threw their entire agenda out of the window. Emily had walked around and stared at the weird buttons and smelled the pages of the old books till her nostrils ached. Her mobile data plan had expired the night before and she was begining to get bored.

She walked back to where her aunt and the lady stood.

"I don't want coffee." Emily interjected on their conversation. Mrs. Stuart was suggesting a seat down with a cup of coffee. A cup of coffee usually meant a glass of something, probably juice or a smoothie and later food. Emily wasn't willing to seat around that long. Her aunt's friend's smile narrowed into surprise.

"Hello there Emily!" The woman beamed. She placed the weird candlestick in her hands on a bookshelf. She stepped forward to engulf Emily in a short uncomfortable hug. "How are you honey?"

Emily shrugged.

"Wonderful!"

"I haven't seen Grace in such a long time, so..." Mrs. Stuart cut short their interaction. She dug into her handbag for some cash. She withdrew about four notes of the same currency. "Why don't you window shop for a dress and I'll call after I'm done?"

Emily raised her eyebrows in agreement and accepted the cash.

"She's grown so tall!" Emily rolled her eyes at Grace's comment. She had no idea who that lady was. "Almost as tall as my Penelope."

"How old is she now?" Mrs. Stuart asked. Emily couldn't comprehend why the ladies were so excited to discuss random details about their lives.

"Thirteen this August." Emily tuned out the conversation at the mention of her daughter's age. Much to her relief, friendship was out of the table.
 
 
Emily stepped out of the shop and sighed. It was a beautiful day. The sun was up on the cerulean sky, casting it's glow down onto the streets of the busy Sweetwater town. There was a sense of ease in the atmosphere and being midmorning, the air was fresh.

Often, Emily would wonder how the world dared to go on around her when her own was falling apart. The universe had brought her so much grief and proceeded to bring out the sun almost every other day. Was her pain that little to be felt? It was unfair.

Emily sighed and walked East. She passed a small bakery, a hardware store, a small street with vendors selling fresh produce and finally making it to the second street. The first store was a nail salon, advertised with bright pink font.

Beneath the font hanged an oval sign, advertising psychic readings, seances and mediumship training. Emily bit the insides of her cheeks in contemplation. It was a silly idea. But then again, it was her family's death anniversary. It still did not feel real to her and neither was whatever was being advertised on the sign. Figuring it couldn't hurt, Emily walked towards the nail salon with a new interest.
 

"Welcome to Petite Nail salon!" A french girl greeted her. "I'm Colette." Emily nodded. Her eyes roamed the shop for any sign of a medium. "What would you like done today?" Colette reached for Emily's hand and proceeded to inspect her nails. "You have an ingrown nail, babes."

"Actually," Emily snatched back her hand, "I'm looking for someone."

"Someone who works here?" Colette waved her pink file around the store like a wand.

"No." Emily sighed. She was beginning to think that she might be at the wrong place. A medium wouldn't be playing Harry Styles music at their shop. "A medium?"

"Oh." Colette's brows raised on realization. Emily did not look like the kind to get her nails done, not with the way she was dressed today. Without a word, Colette pointed at a door in the back of the shop. Emily mumbled a thanks and walked towards it.

The door led to a tiny corridor that was attached to another entrance. The door frame was obstructed by white sheers. On the very top was a similar wood sign advertising the services offered. Emily let out a cold gust of air to expell the tension growing inside her stomach. She knocked on the door frame once to get an answer.

"Come on in child."
 
 
The medium's workshop was everything that Emily did envision. The room smelled strongly of incense and burning wax. It took Emily's nose a whole minute to adjust to the air. The space was also too bright, and not with natural light. There was a yellow gothic lamp at the entrance, right next to where Emily was supposed to leave her shoes. Adjacent to the lamp was a white candle that had a vigorous flicker but not quite enough to blow off.

Emily stepped across it and her toes dipped into the plush crimson carpet that covered every inch of the floor. On the left corner were about five chairs arranged in a circle. The circle of chairs enclosed a larger dining seat type of chair. It had red cuishons too. The main chair had plastic straps and a rope hanging loosely on the arm rest and right where a person's ankles would be for binding. Emily averted her gaze to the right corner where an elevated hospital bed was positioned.

An elderly woman was moving around the bed, fluffing the pillow and stretching the sheets. Upon sensing Emily's presence, the lady welcomed her. She was still occupied on making the red sheets look as straight as possible.

Emily mumbled a thanks and pocketed. She counted the electric candles lining the floor of the room. Twenty three.
 
 
"Perfect." The lady voiced with excitement. "Come on now child." She waved to Emily. Emily gave a small smile and approached the bed. "Get on. Lie on your back." Emily did as was told and stared at the ceiling. The traffic hubbub outside seemed to drown away with whatever the lady was chanting. "I'm Lady Ophelia, I'll be your link to the spirit world today." Emily smiled at the crinkled face hovering above her. "I suppose you want a reading?" Emily nodded.

Lady Ophelia dragged a stool from underneath the bed and positioned it the end of the bed, right next to where Emily's head was.

"I just held a seance child," Lady Ophelia was cut off by a sickly cough. Emily held her breath to avoid catching whatever was in it. "Forgive me if I'm a little rusty, a stubborn spirit that one was."

"Sure." Emily responded.

"Get comfortable." Emily felt a pair of callused hands clasp the sides of her face. Emily hated anyone touching her face. With the germs on the fingertips, she was sure of a face breakout. Emily sat with the medium in silence. On occasion, Lady Ophelia would make an ugly throat sound and twist her head as if in thought. Then without warning, Lady Ophelia's fingers digged into the edge of her jaws. "I see a hat."

Emily clenched her jaws. A heavy feeling settled on both her feet and chest.

"A purple pointy hat. Does that mean anything dear?" Lady Ophelia inquired. Emily's chest heaved twice.

"Yes."

"The wind's taking it now. It's flying away." Lady Ophelia applied more pressure. "What connection do you have to it?"

There was a time where Naomi Bukowski was obsessed with the idea of spells and witches. Of course Emily thought it was bullshit, but there was no harm in her mother buying a modern spell book online, along with the purple pointy hat. The spells inside the book were ridiculous too. It was akin to something a ten year old child would fantasize about. Naomi didn't care. Her doctor seemed to think it was a good thing, though somewhat odd. It was after the hobby that she completely lost it.

"My mom." Emily answered.

"I could sense it was someone close to you." Lady Ophelia hummed in concentration. "Oh," she gasped softly, "what is this?"

Emily grabbed a fistful of red sheets with her right hand. Could Lady Ophelia really see the other side? Can she talk to my mother?

"I'm noticing something else dear." Lady Ophelia tutted after the statement. "Oh! The hat's been picked up." Lady Ophelia relaxed on her grip.

Emily let out a long sigh. Was it her brother?

"A young man, can't really make out his face." Emily's heartbeat increased. Two years ago, the concept of mediumship would be as silly as  thinking the world was flat. Yet, there was Lady Ophelia, helping her in making contact with her dead relatives. It was thrilling.

"Is it my brother?"

"Huh," Lady Ophelia twisted her head to the left, "those sure are long limbs for a normal person." Emily's brows scrunched together.

"Shiver me soul!" Lady Ophelia exclaimed. Without warning, she withdrew her bangled hands from Emily's head with haste. Startled, Emily sat up.

"What's wrong? Did you see my brother? I also lost my brother. Could you find him?"

"That wasn't supposed to be there."

"Where?" Emily was restless. "What did you see?" Emily searched Lady Ophelia's eyes with anticipation. She was getting desperate.

"Maybe I'm mistaken." Lady Ophelia got up from her stool. She walked to the only window in the room and pulled back the heavy red curtain that obstructed the outside view of motor vehicles and passerbys on the side walk.

"The fuck did you see?" Emily demanded.

"Dear, you are attached to something similar to a time bomb."

Tired with the cryptic language, Emily shut her eyes to calm down. She traced circles on her temple while whispering comforting words to herself. She couldn't lash out, not here.

"What did you see?" She whispered from her position on the bed. She felt a tear trace itself down her nose and onto the red sheets.

"It wasn't a human spirit, child." Lady Ophelia handed her a box of tissues. It seemed she had been the recipient of broken grievers one too many times. "It was something evil."
 
Emily sniffed and put a halt to the crying. She felt her pockets for the dress money her aunt had left and handed it to lady Ophelia, hoping it was enough.

"Thanks." Emily leaped down from the bed. It wasn't what she was looking for. No bread was better than half baked cake.

Emily ignored all of Lady Ophelia's concerns as she strapped her Dr. Marten's back onto her feet. She didn't need a cleanse from Jack the reaper. The whole idea sounded even more stupid to her. She walked out Lady Ophelia's room and into the nail salon.
 
 
A nail tech was laughing with her customer as a group of teenage girls walked around the little store, staring at the hanged nail art and polish colors. Emily sighed and pushed the rotating doors, thrusting herself onto the street.

"Fucking cleanse." Emily clicked at the idea. She watched a couple across the street stop at a street food vendor. The girl was giggling at something he had whispered into her ear. Emily felt touch starved. The guy across the street was first to get his kebab and he turned between a bite. It was only then that Emily realized that the two were Malcolm and Velma. Malcolm squinted his eyes in realization too.

A loud motorcycle helped stabilize Emily in her shock. By the time she had mastered up the courage to do a little friendly wave, Velma had acquired her food from the vendor and was dragging Malcolm elsewhere towards downtown.
 
 
Emily sighed. Maybe Lady Ophelia was right and she did need that cleanse. Emily turned her face towards the sky. She tried to shake off the heavy feeling from her shoulders. Whatever Malcolm thought of her wasn't supposed to be her problem. She had much bigger things to deal with, like finding herself a new fancy dress for her family's death anniversary.

But first, Emily needed to get high. The quiet in her head was beginning to get violent.
 
  
 
 

  
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