Anjali sat on her sofa and stared at the coffee table. One bottle of Pinot Grigio and one cordless phone. The phone was for calling her parents and finally telling them about her new career. The wine was for courage.
She’d already had two glasses but bravery still eluded her.
She blamed the vintage.
She should have gone with a heartier yield.
Then again, what was the drink of choice for calling one’s parents and delivering potentially devastating news?
How about half a liquor store?
She poured another glass, took a large gulp, and grabbed the phone. Kali was stretched out on the windowsill, yellow gaze fixed on her. Anjali patted the spot beside her. “Come here, sweetie, I need your support.”
Kali jumped down, bypassed the sofa, and went into the kitchen. Anjali wondered if the Pet Psychic had an easier time communicating with her cat.
“Okay, let’s do it.” She dialed her parents’ number, pressed the phone to her ear, gritted her teeth, and ignored the pounding of her heart.
Her mother answered. “Hello?”
“Hey Mom, it’s me.”
“Zarina, my favorite daughter! How are you?”
Great, two seconds into the conversation and Anjali was already the bearer of bad news.
“No Mom, it’s Anjali.”
Her mother didn’t miss a beat. “Anjali, my favorite youngest daughter! I knew it was you.”
“Nice, Mom. What were you doing?”
“Going through these yoga studio brochures. Your father and I are going to start taking classes.”
It figured. Her parents hadn’t done a single yoga pose growing up in India, and now it took a studio in Tempe, Arizona, to get them to do it. But then, none of her relatives did yoga, and back when she’d experimented with it, Anjali had been the only Indian person in her class.
“Yoga’s good but…I have to tell you something. I have a new job.”
“When are you coming to Tempe? There’s so much to do here. Last weekend your father and I went camping. We made dal over the cookstove and roasted naan in the campfire. Tomorrow we’re going boating in Tempe Town Lake.”
Anjali had been hearing about Tempe nonstop since her parents had moved there. She wondered if the chamber of commerce was paying them to promote the place. “Sounds like fun, Mom, but about my new job—”
“You have a new job?”
Anjali reached for the glass of wine, changed her mind and grabbed the bottle, taking a hefty swig. “I…I’m a professional psychic now, at a ghost-hunting agency.”
Her mother was silent.
Anjali could feel a cold draft moving in from Tempe.
“Mom?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. I just wanted to tell you. Are you mad?”
“What good is there in being mad?”
“Nothing I guess, I just really needed to tell you. I mean, this is who I am. I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
“So who asked you to?”
Did she hear correctly? Did she need to whip out the family album and point to people? “Well, you and Dad—”
“Oof, your father and I thought we were protecting you. We wanted you to feel normal. We didn’t want people looking at you differently.”
If there was one thing Anjali had learned from ghost hunting, it was this: You can’t cling to the past.
She took a deep breath. “I know, Mom. I do. It can’t have been easy raising a psychic child.”
“It wasn’t so bad. At least you and your sister never did the drugs. Not like that Shivani Jain.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Did you know she was kicked out of Berkeley? She’s going to a junior college now and probably still doing—”
“The drugs,” Anjali finished. “So you’re really okay with this?”
“I am. But how am I going to tell your father? Are you at least making good money? He’ll take the news better if he knows you’re making good money.”
“Umm…”
“There’s this Indian family in Tempe—the Tandons. They have three sons. The eldest is a lawyer, but the middle son became a hairdresser. The family was deeply ashamed. They told everyone he was in jail for tax fraud. But then this year, that same son opened a second salon in Phoenix. He now makes more money than the lawyer! The parents are pushing the youngest son into hairdressing too.”
“But forcing the youngest son is the same as—”
“How much do you charge for being psychic? The Tandon boy charges three hundred dollars for a haircut. Three hundred dollars!”
“Well…”
“You should move to Tempe. There are lots of ghosts here. Better than the ones in San Jose.”
“It’s too hot in Arizona.”
“What are you talking about? Your ancestors all hail from one of the hottest climates on Earth. You should be used to the heat.”
“No thanks, but I will come and visit. I’m just glad things are okay between us.”
“They are. You’re my daughter. You’re perfect.”
Anjali felt cuddled in the warm embrace of maternal approval. “Aw, Mom—”
“Of course it would be nice if you were married. And maybe you could lose a little weight? And don’t drink so much—no man wants to be with an alcoholic.”
Anjali quickly placed the bottle of wine on the floor and out of sight.
“And maybe you should try and get one of those TV specials like that James Van Praagh,” her mother continued. “He was here in Tempe, you know. I don’t know what the big deal is about him. He has those beady eyes and he’s not half as pretty as you. You would need to wear less makeup though and style your hair differently and not slouch so much and…”
Anjali lay back against the cushion and smiled.