I go to see a psychic in Belfast. Psychics frighten me. I’m always nervous they’ll tell me something I don’t want to know, that once I hear it it's destined to be true. I decide I’m safe if I tell them upfront that I only want to know about Caitlin and I.
The woman has so many lines in her face. When she speaks I watch the lines move, how they dance together, how her skin is sewn and pocked by the life she lived.
“I’m only here to talk about one thing,” I tell her.
“That right wee girl?”
“Yes. I just want to know about my best friend. I’m writing about us.”
"You write a lot, don't ya? I see words all around ya."
Then she looked away for a long time. When she looked back at me I could tell she wasn’t seeing me, that she was watching something I couldn’t.
“Yous been friends since yous were wee. But she’s not wee, she’s tall.”
I laugh.
“Did we know each other in a past life?”
“Depends. I think all lives are at once, so they are. But yes, there’s a real connection there. She’s a sister more than a friend. Your lives are becoming more and more different, but yous’ll always feel the same, so ya will.”
“Different how?
“I’m happy to tell ya only about her, but if that’s what ya want, we have to stop here.”
“Why?”
“Well, there’s a lot of change on the horizon.”
“How so?”
“You’re with a fella here now?”
I nodded but didn’t speak. Every organ took a sharp inhale and stopped working.
“There’s not a lot of Northern Ireland in your future.”
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