Page 19 of Something Like Fate

Damn. I’m really losing him here. Admittedly, I knew it would be a challenge to convince him. Maybe I was naive, but part of me thought he’d say yes purely because he’d want to spend a month with me. Though maybe I’m projecting my desire to spend that time with him.

Still, I shove all ego out the door and resort to begging, which looks like me draping my torso over the counter, arms outstretched, full-on pouting. Now I’m the desperate and creepy one. “We haven’t seen each other in forever. We’ll probably never have another opportunity to spend this kind of time together.”

And I need your moral support when I meet my soulmate, I want to add. But I don’t. It’s not something I want to toss in casually, even though Teller knows about the family gift. I first told him after a late shift only about a month after we first met. And believe me, I didn’t make that decision lightly. There was a high likelihood he’d write me off as a loon and never speak to me again. But if he was going to be my close friend, I couldn’t hide that part of my family’s identity, even if I didn’t have the gift myself.

I led into the conversation in a very chill, casual way: by telling him my mom died.

The Cinema had done a screening of an old film about a mom dying and leaving her two children behind. It made me emotional, asmost things with that subject matter do, so when it was over, I sat alone in the theater, stuffing my face withTwizzlers, trying not to cry.

“What’s wrong?” Teller asked.

I jumped at the sound of his voice. I hadn’t realized he was there. “Oh, um, the movie. Reminded me of my mom. She died.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, Lo.” His expression went solemn. “When did she pass?”

“When I was four. I don’t really remember a lot about her, to be honest.”

He didn’t say anything, though he didn’t need to. He just placed his hand on my shoulder, firm and reassuring.

“I’ve never told anyone that. Not having clear memories of her makes me feel like a terrible person. Of all people, I should remember her just by nature, shouldn’t I? Like, if she suddenly came back to life, I don’t know if I’d recognize her in a crowd if I didn’t study her pictures. And everyone else in my family has all these memories of her and I don’t.”

“Lo, you were four years old,” he reminded me, voice even and steady. “I hardly remember anything from that age, aside from my traumatic first day of school.”

“I need to hear this story,” I said, shoulders easing. I already felt so much lighter just talking to him. The more time I spent with Teller, the better he was getting at reading my emotions, almost interpreting them for me in plain language. I was never very good at making sense of all my big feelings.

“Another time.”

I let out a shaky sigh. “It’s weird. I mostly remember how she made me feel, that I was comfortable and happiest when I was with her, which makes me even more sad for the rest of my family, because they must miss her even more than I do.”

“Grief is love persevering.”

I blinked. “Wow, Tel. That’s pretty ... deep.”

“It’s a rom-com quote,” he informed me, proud of himself for finally getting me after all the quotes I’d tricked him with.

I gave him a look, trying to rack my brain. “I haven’t heard it before. From what?”

“WandaVision.”

“WandaVisionis not a rom-com. Nice try, though.” I snorted, giving him a light elbow in the bicep.

He shrugged. “It was a good quote.”

“I have this picture of her,” I said, taking the photo out to show him.

He leaned in closer, head nearly touching mine as he followed my gaze over the photo. “I can see why you like this one. Your parents look ... beyond ... happy. Like they really belonged together.”

It’s true. They were just completely themselves, at home, no frills, having the best time because they have each other. “Because they did. Literally,” I said.

He caught the seriousness in my tone. “What do you mean?”

“All right, I should backtrack. The women in my family are psychics. Every one of them. Except for me.”

I figured he’d question me, give me a lecture about how psychics are frauds and take advantage of the emotionally vulnerable. But Teller didn’t do anything of the sort. He just nodded as I enlightened him on the whole family history.

“After they started blending Eastern with Western practices, they developed this new gift.” I explained the whole thing, just like my grandmother had explained it to me when I was around five. How it started with my great-grandmother. How every woman in our family has had The Vision since then and how every single one has come to fruition.

“So you’re saying your aunt Ellen heard the same song over and over in her head as a kid, and then the moment that song came on at a club, she just happened to twirl into her fiancé?”

---