As Marie’s sophomore year at City College came to an end, her relationship with Josh deepened. She had decided on a history major and found that it suited her, regardless of what her mother thought. Her trips to Nelsonville became less frequent, and she was establishing her life in New York.
While walking to her job at Brentano’s Books on a bright spring day, Marie wove in and out of the throngs on Fifth Avenue. Tourists speaking every romance language, German, and Arabic melded into a cacophony of sound that was energetic but grating to the ear. The languages seemed to bump up against one another to dominate; whoever spoke the loudest could rise above the rest and be heard.
She stopped in front of the Bergdorf Goodman window displaying new fashions for spring. Marie admired how the designers created their presentation. It was like a museum or gallery exhibit. She gazed at her reflection and was reminded of her aunt’s warnings about staring into a mirror—but this was just clear glass. A tall, slim man appeared behind her wearing a fedora. Strange, thought Marie. Men do not wear hats anymore. There was something familiar about him, but she hesitated to turn around. She pretended to focus on the display, waiting for the man to move on. Gazing with her peripheral vision, Marie saw that he did not cast a shadow. She focused on the reflection in the window and saw that he had gone. Looking to the right and left, he was nowhere to be seen. He probably got in a cab, she thought.
When she got to work, the store was packed. The people on Fifth Avenue seemed to have piled into Brentano’s.
“Excuse me, can you help me find the cooking section?” asked a customer.
“This way,” said Marie. As Marie assisted the customer, she noticed a fedora peeking over the top of a shelf. Maybe this is someone else, she thought.
“Excuse me,” Marie said.
She peeked around the corner but did not see the man with the fedora. Marie had not been looking into any mirrors lately, as she was just focusing on her academic work and the bookstore. But she had learned through research that the activity of gazing into a reflected object was called “scrying.” It was the practice of looking into a shiny object to obtain significant messages or visions. Her aunt’s warnings and her experience with her grandmother in the hall mirror had stayed with her, and she curtailed any investigation into the unseen.
“Everything all right, Marie?” asked the manager, Alister Wise.
“I am fine. I just thought I saw someone I knew.”
“I wondered if you could work late tonight. We do not expect this crowd to thin out anytime soon, so if you are interested in making some extra money…”
“Sure, I’d appreciate the extra time.”
Marie worked throughout the day and forgot about the man with the fedora. She connected with people from all over the globe and was amazed at the variety of their interests, from geography to biography to zoology. It was a Saturday night, and Josh was going to pick her up at nine.
“Plans for tonight?” asked Alister.
“Yeah, I’m going out for dinner.”
“Before you go, would you mind helping me by standing outside while I move some books around in the window?”
Marie motioned Alister to move a display over to one side or the other. She suddenly thought she saw an outline of a form but could not distinguish what it was. She felt someone behind her.
“Are you ready to go?”
She quickly turned around. Blood filled her cheeks, and her breath deepened.
“Sorry, did I scare you?” Josh enveloped her in his arms.
Marie’s face felt warm, and her palms were sweaty.
“No, let’s go.” Marie waved to Alister.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“I thought we would go to the Village to eat,” said Josh.
“I agree. It’s a nice evening for the Village.”
They took the subway to West 4th Street and went into a small Italian restaurant.
“How was your day?”
Marie hesitated to tell Josh about her experiences with the man in the fedora, but she thought if she spoke about it she would see that it was all a coincidence.
“You know, today I kept seeing a tall thin man wearing a fedora. He seemed so familiar.”
“Was he following you?”
“I don’t know. He just showed up.”
“What do you mean, ‘showed up’? He was either following you or he wasn’t.”
Josh was a realist and problem solver. There was always a practical explanation to everything in life.
“I didn’t see him walk or do anything but stand behind me when I was looking into a storefront window. He did not even cast a shadow, and then I know he came to the store because I saw his fedora over a bookshelf.”
“First of all, people don’t just appear and disappear. He probably ended up at Brentano’s because he walked down Fifth Avenue. He is probably a tourist. You have some imagination.”
Marie decided not to pursue the conversation. Her sense of the situation would not resonate with Josh. Maybe she was imagining the entire scenario. If it were imaginary, then she would not see the man again. She thought she would wait and see.
After dinner, Marie and Josh strolled around Greenwich Village as he talked about his career plans, but Marie kept thinking about the man with the fedora. She noticed signs for psychics on several street corners. She had explored the Village since she was a teenager but never noticed signs for psychics or clairvoyants.
“Do you think psychics are real?” asked Marie.
“Have you been listening to me?”
“We keep passing neon signs for psychics. Do you think they are real?”
“No, I do not. You need to forget about today. It was just a coincidence.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A few weeks later, Marie was walking in Riverside Park enjoying the spring wildflowers. A cool breeze was coming off the river, and she wrapped her sweater around her chest. Twice a month she had an entire day off, and today was one of them. She had plans to walk a few miles and meet up with Josh later. The glorious weather made her feel energetic and open. She sat on a bench and watched New Yorkers pass by. It was a normal day, and life felt predictable.
“Hi, Marie, good to see you.”
Marie looked up and shielded her eyes. She could not make out his face at first. She checked to make sure he cast a shadow.
“Oh, hi, Alister. Do you live around here?”
“I live downtown. I’m here giving an English lesson. I am a private tutor.”
“I did not know that. You have two jobs?”
“Three, actually. I am also the buyer for Weiser Books in the Village.”
“Really? I remember going to Weiser’s when I was a teenager to get a book on Sufism for my brother.”
Marie had been going into the city that day, and Frank had asked her to stop at Weiser’s to pick up a book he had ordered. As she browsed the shop, she saw that all the titles dealt with the metaphysical. She bumped into a shelf and The Complete Book of Witchcraft hit her on the head.
“Did you like the shop? It’s really different from Brentano’s.”
“It is. I did not spend much time perusing, but a book on witchcraft fell on my head.”
The unseen world was not as hidden as Marie had thought. She began to understand Angela’s situation of coveting her connection to the unseen. Angela had been a solo practitioner of sorts without the support of community. Regardless, she had kept her connection alive, and passed it down to Marie.
“They say when a book falls off the shelf there is something in that book you need to know. It may just be a few sentences, but there is a message or information that is important to the seeker’s development.”
“Seekers’ development?”
“Could be an old wives’ tale, but I’ve read some of the metaphysical books and they all say the same thing. See you at work,” said Alister. “Enjoy the day.”
Marie thought it was strange the memories humans file as unimportant. That day at Weiser’s began to make sense to her, but she was not sure what to do next. It was time to visit Nelsonville.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When Marie arrived, Angela was ironing a skirt and blouse she’d made for Marie. She had missed their many conversations and casual time together. Angela’s hands were becoming increasingly stiff from the arthritis, but she still sewed and created.
“How have you been?” asked Angela.
“Okay, I wanted to talk to you about some experiences.”
Angela stopped ironing.
“I hope are not staring into mirrors. You will have trouble in your real life.”
Marie told Angela about the thin man with the fedora and the witchcraft book that had fallen off the shelf. Angela put down the iron.
“Do you remember the two FBI men who came to see us about your brother?” asked Angela.
“Oh, yeah, I remember.”
“Your description of the fedora man reminds me of them.”
“This was different,” said Marie. “He did not cast a shadow.”
“That is someone without a soul,” said Angela.
“Without a soul? How do you know that?”
“The old people used to say that in Sicily. Someone who was not human did not cast a shadow. You should pay attention to your studies and your life. If he shows up again, ask him what he wants to tell you then you, then decide if it is the truth.”
More memories started to surface for Marie. When she was about ten years old, she had been brushing her teeth when she felt someone touch her back. She turned around quickly, only to find no one there. It was not a light touch; she had felt someone put an entire hand on her back. She was sure someone was there. Maybe these events were all connected to the mirror and seeing her grandmother.
“I used to dream about your grandmother, Speranza, all the time after she died,” said Angela. “I know that she was telling me she was safe and unhappy about her husband’s new marriage. Pay attention to your dreams, but do not let it get out of hand.”
“It must have been lonely for you, not being able to share your beliefs.”
“I have lived through an earthquake, lost my family, and been ostracized by colleagues at St. Mary’s. A little loneliness will not break me. Besides, I have you. You remember what I whispered in your ear some time ago?”
“Yes. About giving up the longing to belong.”
“Then follow it.”
The next day, Felicia dropped Marie off at the train station.
“You know, I heard some of your conversation with Aunt Angela last night. You need to start thinking about your future and stop this nonsense about some other world. Pay attention to this one and what you will do with your life.”
“You are annoying. You do not have a curious bone in your body, so you criticize others. You should be more open-minded,” Marie said.
“Do not tell me what I should be! I have sacrificed for you so you could get an education and live a better life. Don’t be so ungrateful.”
“I am sorry, your highness, I was not aware that I owed you anything for doing your job!”
Felicia reached over to slap Marie, but she jumped out of the car and ran to the platform. The train approached the station, and Marie got on.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Marie gazed into the window of Weiser’s Books. She looked around to make sure no one she knew saw her. She hadn’t shared any of her experiences with anyone beside Angela and wanted to keep her personal and academic life separate from her other reality. She was dating and had been accepted into college life circles, and she wanted to keep it that way. Even though it was the 1970s in New York and people were free to be themselves, she was not sure that included metaphysical experiences. “Walk between the worlds,” Aunt Angela always said. As she closed the door behind her, a bell rang, announcing her presence. The third-dimensional world faded, and she was amidst a multitude of books written about extraordinary experiences, religions, Eastern philosophy, and witchcraft.
A tall antique desk perched on a platform stood to the left, and books lined the walls from floor to ceiling.
“What brings you in?” asked the clerk sitting at the desk without looking up.
“I work with Alister at Brentano’s, and he suggested I come in and look around.
“An ambitious young man,” said the clerk. “What are you looking for? Maybe I can point you in the right direction.” He raised his head and peered over the desk.
“Just browsing.” Marie could feel his stare as she walked down one of the aisles. There were books on Sufism, magic, Jungian psychology and the Tarot. She gingerly touched the book spines as she walked up and down the aisles.
As Marie descended one aisle toward the front of the shop, she looked toward the street and saw the tall thin man with the fedora. She froze and quickly turned toward the books. She hadn’t seen him in months and thought that he must have been an apparition, but today, he appeared more three-dimensional. Marie looked up at the clerk and saw him meeting the tall thin man’s gaze. The thin man left. He sees him too, she thought.
“Do you know that man?”
“He’s a nuisance.”
“A what?”
“A nuisance, an irritation.”
“What does that mean?”
“What part of nuisance don’t you understand?”
“It’s just that I saw him when I was looking in a window on 5th. He didn’t cast a shadow.”
“Beings with compromised energy rarely cast shadows. They are fragments of a personality. This one is harmless, though.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Why don’t you check out The Complete Book of Witchcraft by Raymond Buckland?”
“That fell on my head once.”
“You can find it in aisle three.”
Marie paid for her purchase, walked onto the sidewalk, looked both ways and scurried toward the subway. The clerk had apparently sent the fedora man away. Angela had always told her to stand her ground, so the next time she saw him she would ask him what he wanted.
When she got back to her apartment, she opened her closet door and tucked the book underneath a pile of blankets. The phone rang.
“Hi, Josh. I was out for a walk. Tonight, okay. I’ll meet you outside your apartment.” One of the law students was giving a party, and they were invited. She would have to put on her game face and stay in physical reality. She needed to remain present, but given her recent experience, that would be a major challenge.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Marie approached Josh’s apartment with a bit of trepidation. Maybe her fedora man stalker was a bored law student with an impaired sense of humor. It was said that the third year in law school was for slacking off, since most of attendance and grades had already been established. Many became bored and opened credit card tabs in bars across the city where they drank into the early hours.
“Are these your friends?” asked Marie.
“They’re just acquaintances. We’re all in competition with each other for grades and jobs.”
“So, you don’t like each other.”
“Not really. The guy who is giving the party just got a coveted lobbyist job in Washington, D.C. He wants to show off.”
“Sounds like a great life.”
Josh looked at Marie.
“We’re all a part of the same club. Graduating from Columbia Law School opens doors. Maybe not as quickly for a Harvard graduate, but pretty close.”
Josh’s life was guaranteed whether he wanted to follow that path or not; it was predictable and stable. Marie realized that his challenges in life would be easily traversed, so his learning curve would be low. He would most likely be the same in twenty years, with little growth or development.
The party was populated with first, second, and third-year law students munching on chips, dip, and cheap wine. Marie had expected shrimp and foie gras from a Columbia soiree. What they lacked in culinary taste, they made up for in university prestige.
“Come in, Josh,” said a young man with a Columbia Law School sweatshirt.
“Aaron, this is Marie.”
“Oh, yeah, Josh has told me about you. Come in and grab a drink.”
Marie never really enjoyed parties, but she was trying to be more social.
“Congrats, Aaron, on your new job,” said Josh. “I’m sure you’ll be successful.”
“Thanks. So, when did you two meet?”
“We met several years ago at the New York Public Library. And again recently at Brentano’s.”
“Really? That’s fate for you,” said Aaron as he sipped his beer.
“Marie thinks it’s some cosmic connection,” said Josh, “instead of coincidence, which it is.”
“My aunt would say there were no coincidences or accidents,” said Marie.
“Then what?” asked Aaron. “There are no accidents? We call them accidents for a reason.”
“Accidents happen to steer people in a different direction. There is an order and balance to everything.”
“This is way too deep for me,” said Josh. “We’re at a party.”
Marie met some of the few female law students and observed that they had similar ambitions to their male counterparts, but it was obvious the men would get the most coveted jobs. They all dated each other, all locked into a predictable future, and the worst part was they didn’t question their choices. Any anxiety Marie had about not knowing what she would do with her life began to melt, and she was grateful that her future was open and not decided by a profession that would treat her unfairly. Her future was wide open.
“Don’t you think there is more to life than just good grades and a job at the end of your third year?” asked Marie to a woman in her third year who had not secured a job yet.
“Like what?”
“There’s experiencing life on a different level. Look around you, there is always mystery and exploring the unknown.”
“All that doesn’t pay the bills or get your kids into the best schools. That’s fantasy and excuses for doing poorly in life.”
“I wish you luck.”
“Ready to go?” asked Josh.
“So soon?”
‘Yeah, I see these people a lot. And besides, I’m tired of Aaron gloating. His grades aren’t even as good as mine.”
“Don’t you think this competition is a waste of time?”
“No, it’s what we do. Keeps us motivated.”
Marie had an innate sense of the unseen world and its possibilities and knew that it was never a good idea to get involved in someone else’s petty concerns. She would find out who the fedora man was and why he followed her. He did not feel threatening or dangerous and was easily sent away by the clerk at Weiser’s Books.
“Want to meet up tomorrow?”
“I have to work. It’s Saturday.”
Josh put his arm around Marie as they walked back to his apartment.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Saturday was consistently busy at Brentano’s, especially in good weather. Alister came in and began to open the register.
“Hi, Alister, glad you’re here today.”
“Marie, how are you?”
“I went to Weiser’s Books.”
“How did it go?”
“You are an amazing buyer.”
“I can’t take all the credit. Some of those titles have been there for years.”
“The clerk is a character,” Marie said.
“Oh, you met Bartholomew. I think he came with the place; he’s been there for so long.”
“He sent away a man that was following me. He sent him away just by meeting his gaze.”
“Maybe he was one of the indigents in the neighborhood and Bartholomew was used to dealing with him.”
“Bartholomew said he was a compromised being and that’s why he didn’t cast a shadow,” said Marie.
“Leave it to him to come up with a story like that.”
At the end of the day, Marie rearranged books on the front table and looked toward 5th Avenue. Someone waved from the street; it was Uncle Joe. Marie motioned for him to come in.
“Hello, Darling. I thought we could have an early dinner if you’re not busy.”
“That is a great idea. I’m done for the day.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
They went into a small Italian restaurant known for its hearty home-style meals, not far from 5th Avenue.
“So, how is everything?” Joe asked as he spun his spaghetti around his fork.
“Good. I’m enjoying my classes and my job.”
“New York can be a tough place to live. I spoke with Aunt Angela today. She misses you.”
“Yeah, I call her during the day sometimes to make sure she’s okay. I’ll make a trip soon to Nelsonville.”
“Your mother is concerned about you, but I said that you’ll be fine.”
“You’re right. I will be.”
“You were such a shy little girl. I see that you’ve changed. New York will do that to you.”
“I’ve learned that I can live on my own, so I’m not reliant on anyone. I can make my own way.”
“I know, but your mother is concerned that you won’t have a stable life. You should start thinking about a stable career and marriage.”
Marie felt that her uncle was pleading her mother’s case and that his concern was not genuine. Maybe Felicia felt that two people making a compelling case was better than one. The difference between her mother, Joe and Angela was that Angela was confident that Marie would be fine regardless of her choices.
“I’m nineteen and living in New York. I’m in college and I have a job, so I would say that I’m doing really well and don’t need anyone to keep tabs on me.”
“Oh, I’m not doing that,” said Joe.
“You mean my mother didn’t ask you to stop by the store and take me to dinner?”
“I’m not spying, if that’s what you think.”
Marie looked at her uncle with raised eyebrows.
“All right, all right, she asked me to see how you were doing. I love your mother and I don’t like her to worry.”
“So, you weren’t worried about me.”
“Honey, if you’re anything like your mother and aunt, you’ll do better than fine. I could not say no to your mother when she asked me to check on you. I can tell her that I did as she asked. You know your mama.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“I’m not educated, but I know how important it is for Angela and your mother that you graduate college. Anything else going on? How about boys?”
“I’m seeing someone, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Well, do tell. I’m all ears.”
“I don’t want this to get to mom.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“Really?”
“No, but I am interested.”
“He’s someone I met at work; a law student.”
“Kudos to you,” Joe said. “Do I hear wedding bells?”
“I’m supposed to finish college, remember?”
Marie recognized that Joe meant well, but he functioned on one level of existence: the material plane. Gucci shoes, Armani suits and vacations on the French Riviera or anything that would bring him status was his desire. These accoutrements of New York wealth enabled him to feel superior to his contemporaries who did not fare as well. It eased the neglect he had experienced as a child.
“How is Dick?”
“At the moment he’s in L.A. negotiating a deal. I have a lot of free time while he’s away. Why don’t I call your mother and we can all have lunch?”
“You really love her.”
“She has been good to me. Did you know she sent me money so I could attend her wedding to my brother? She knew I had no money, and she wanted me there. I have never forgotten that. She made me feel like I was part of the family.”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“So, if I’m on her side, I have my reasons. We are both from immigrant families and experienced our parents’ difficulties in assimilating. Some bonds can’t be broken.”
Joe paid the check, and they walked out onto the street. There was a lull in activity before New Yorkers descended on the sidewalks, crowding into restaurants and going to the theater.
“I’ll invite your mother for lunch next week. We can all get together.”
Marie kissed Joe goodbye and walked toward the subway. She stood on the platform, leaned against a beam, and contemplated the relationship between her family members. Angela’s influence and relationship with family members was clear. She shared her history with everyone, and they respected her. Marie knew Angela intimately—her hardships, hopes and dreams—but she only knew other family members superficially. They were superfluous to her past, and in her mind irrelevant to her future.
Marie turned and noticed the edge of a black hat peeking out from behind the adjacent beam. Her heart began to race as the image of the man with the fedora flooded her mind. She hid behind the beam and made her body stiff, deciding not to board the oncoming train. As the train left the station, she slowly peered around the beam. Whoever it was, he had boarded the train.
Marie slept fitfully that night, and between waking and sleep she thought about the thin man with the fedora. Maybe he reflected the hidden part of herself and was trying to get her attention. She got up and retrieved the book she had purchased at Weiser’s Books. The contents included the history and philosophy of witchcraft, divination methods, herbal lore, and dream interpretation. She read until the early morning and then fell into a deep sleep.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Angela was dusting the lion statue on her mantle when the phone rang.
“Marie, how are you doing?”
“I’m good, Aunt Angela. How are you?”
“Oh, I am old, so I do my best. When are you coming for a visit?”
“Soon.”
“Your uncle told me told me you had dinner together. He seemed to think I did not know you have a boyfriend.”
“He’s just someone I see. I’m not sure he’s my boyfriend. I wanted to tell you I saw the man with the fedora again. It’s getting really strange.”
There was a pause at the end of the phone.
“You must ask him what he wants.”
“That’s what I thought, but why is this happening? You don’t seem surprised that this is happening.”
Marie heard Angela take a deep breath.
“I have had encounters with this kind of being. Once, after the earthquake when I went back to my home, he was there trying to get me to go with him, but I did not. He seemed underhanded and not of this earth. It doesn’t seem like your man is out to harm you.”
“No, I don’t think he is. I will be home in a few weeks.”
“I hope you do come. I have something for you. We can talk some more when you visit. Aren’t you having lunch with your uncle and mother next week?
“Yes, I suppose I will go. It’s never that interesting.”
“Then make it go your way.”
Angela hung up and went into her bedroom. She took out her diamond earrings that Franco had given her on their tenth anniversary. The diamonds were oval shaped in a silver setting imported from Palermo. She felt it was time to give them to Marie. She felt she was coming to the end of her journey and wanted to begin the letting go process. The doctor said that she was in good health, but life was unpredictable, and she believed in preparedness. She had not worn them much, just on special occasions. They had spent years sitting in her drawer, and it was time that they were out in the world.
Angela thought about Marie’s ability to move to Manhattan at age eighteen on her own and create a life for herself. Angela had made the trip from Sicily to America, but that was with a husband and a family waiting for her. She saw Marie’s journey as more difficult, given the changes in American culture. She saw how her influence had given Marie her desire to take on a challenge like living in New York City. She recognized Marie’s gift to connect to the occult world, but how that would be revealed was different for everyone. She put the earrings away and lit the candles on her altar. Angela wondered if when she died she could come back to the physical world and be with her family. Given her adept communication with the unseen world, maybe she could connect with the living, like she did with her unseen friends. Life carries on, she thought. It does not end when the last breath is taken.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Marie brushed her long, thick, dark hair from her scalp to its ends. She was on her way to meet Joe and her mother for dinner and decided to create a French braid so she would look more sophisticated. Joe had wanted to go to a new trendy restaurant in Greenwich Village, so he had changed the time from lunch to dinner. She wore a form- fitting black dress with a V neckline, and black pumps topped off the outfit. The restaurant was near Weiser’s Books, so she had decided to meet them at the restaurant.
She walked down 4th Avenue and gazed into the Weiser’s Books window. The window display consisted of several volumes about Sufism, including The Essential Rumi and The Garden of Truth: The Vision and Promise of Sufism. Bartholomew was perched on his high chair overseeing the activity below. It was a Friday evening, and the shop was crowded with the local intelligentsia and spiritual seekers. She felt she was among the spiritual seekers who wanted to know more about the occult world and how it interfaced with the physical plane. The shop was open until 11 pm on Friday evenings, so she decided to return after dinner.
Marie found Joe and Felicia sitting at a round table in a quiet corner of the restaurant. There were brass chandeliers hanging from dark wooden beams, and white taper candles lit at each table with white tablecloths and matching napkins.
“There she is,” said Joe, lifting his martini.
“I don’t know why you did not take a cab with us,” Felicia said. “Did you take the subway?”
“Part of the way. I got off at 42nd Street and walked the rest of the way.” Marie sat down and placed a napkin on her lap.
“You’re here, it doesn’t matter how,” said Joe. “Take a look at the menu, Marie. The cuisine is a fusion of American, Italian, and French, very in now.” Joe was dressed in a cream cashmere turtleneck, embellished with a gold chain and black slacks.
“What’s new, everyone?” Marie asked.
“Your mother and I may go dancing after dinner,” Joe said.
“Sounds exciting.”
“There used to be dance halls where people could go, but no more. Remember that, Joe? I so enjoyed that.”
“I remember. You see, Marie, we both married stick-in-the muds, but we have had each other.”
Marie saw her mother smile, and the genuine affection between the pair emerged. They were content in each other’s company because of their shared history.
“Yes, we have,” said Felicia.
“I admire your mother. She is a strong woman; a survivor.”
Felicia smiled, and she seemed happy. Marie thought her mother had not received much positive reinforcement throughout the years and when she did receive it, she lit up. Marie usually resented it when they excluded her from the conversation, but now the resentment faded and she understood how important their relationship was to their well-being.
“You are a survivor, too,” Felicia said to Joe. “We have that in common, and we have a friendship that will extend into the future.”
“I will drink to that,” said Marie, lifting her wine glass. “To Felicia and Joe, the dynamic duo who climbed many mountains, supported one another, and came out the other side stronger.”
“Thank you, Marie,” said Felicia. “I am glad you acknowledge that.” She rubbed Marie’s shoulder, and she and Joe smiled at one another.
“Now this is good,” said Joe.
“Can I get anyone another drink?” asked the waitress.
“I love your earrings,” Joe said. “They’re a nice touch.”
“Thanks,” the waitress said as she touched her ears. “It’s nice of you to notice.”
“I notice everything, and I can tell you have style.” Joe smiled at the waitress and she turned pink. “I would like another martini.”
“I will have another highball,” said Felicia.
Marie limited herself to one glass of wine, and she never drank hard liquor. As her dinner companions sipped their drinks, laughed and relaxed, she began to feel she was part of the conversation and sat back to listen. Even though she did not say much, she felt they were sharing their relationship with her, presenting who they were years ago and how their relationship evolved.
“Marie, I always told your mother that she should remarry, but she did it her way and I have to say she was right.”
“I’m glad you see it my way,” Felicia said. “It was best for my career and my children. I was able to be the mother I wanted to be.”
“I would say you two have a lot to celebrate,” said Marie.
They finished the evening with tiramisu and espresso. The threesome strolled onto the sidewalk and talked about the rampant crime and economic collapse that had gripped the city.
“In the 1960s, the city was full of life and diversity,” Joe said as he lit a cigarette. “Now buildings are collapsing, and there is not money to fix them. Dick and I have even talked about moving to London.”
“I am sure it will improve,” Marie said. “New York always survives.”
“You’ll visit next weekend?” Felicia asked.
“Yes, Aunt Angela said there was something she wanted to give me. I’m due for a visit anyway.”
“Always nice to have you home,” said Felicia.
Marie stopped and watched as her mother and uncle walked ahead. She never got the impression that her mother was even remotely pleased with her visits. Her statement was completely out of character.
“Are you coming?” asked Felicia. “We’re taking a cab uptown.”
Joe and Felicia stopped and looked at Marie. This was her legacy, she thought. Martinis, highballs, and long-term relationships based on like minds and experiences. Joe hailed a cab, and they sped uptown.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Marie and Angela finished lunch and put the dishes in the sink.
“I’m glad you could come this weekend,” Angela said. “I have something for you. I think it’s the right time.”
“What is it?”
“Come in the bedroom.”
Angela’s bedroom felt smaller, and the pink bedspread with embroidered flowers Marie remembered as a child was draped over the bed like a relic.
“I wanted to give you these before I pass away.” She handed Marie the earrings.
“They’re beautiful,” said Marie. “But are you sure? You might want to wear them.”
“No, I want you to enjoy them. Diamonds increase intuition and imagination, and you will benefit from them.”
“Thank you, Aunt Angela.” She put her arms around Angela and held her tight.
“So, tell me about this mysterious man you have been seeing,” Angela prompted.
“Like I said, he wears a fedora. I went to Weiser’s Books, and I saw him outside gazing in the window. The shopkeeper said he did not cast a shadow because he had no soul. He made him leave just by staring at him.”
“These strange people show up when we have to look at a part of ourselves that has been lost. Some are benevolent, others malevolent. Your man seems harmless, but he does have a message. When did you last see him?”
“At a subway stop not too long ago, but I hid.”
“He won’t go away until you confront him. I think you should.”
“It’s so strange how all this has transpired. I’m so glad you’re here to help me.”
“One day I won’t be.”
Marie felt a chill. When she imagined a future without Angela, she saw confusion and indecision. Angela had been with Marie since birth, and one day she would be gone.
“You will have many more years,” said Marie.
“You never know when God will call me, so it is best to be prepared. Besides, I will never really leave you. You have to know that by now, or is your education telling you that you cannot trust what you don’t see?”
Marie thought about the fedora man and realized that he might be that part of her that doubted her ability to connect with the unseen world—that she had been concentrating on school, work, and her relationship with Josh, who was focused on intellect.
“You had told me to be careful with whom I shared my intuition, so I have been fitting in.”
“But I did not tell you to reject it.”
“I am not rejecting my intuition. I’m just keeping it quiet for a while.” Marie knew she needed to clear up the mystery of the fedora man so she could move on with her life.
“All right,” said Angela, “we all have to make choices, and right now you have made yours.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Marie climbed into her old bed at Morning Glory Avenue and drifted off into a subterranean sleep; the kind of sleep that allows a body to completely let go and rest. She found herself standing by her bed looking down at her body. Suddenly she found herself on a street in an old city.
She was not sure where she was or what she was supposed to do. All she could think was that she needed to get back to her body, but then she thought that maybe she was supposed to explore this strange landscape and walk along its streets and avenues. The street signs were in French, and the buildings were centuries old. She continued down one narrow street. There were people in shops chatting with shop owners.
Although she could not hear them, she could understand what they were saying. They whispered about all the killings and talked about who was taken away. The women wore simple long dresses. and the men were dressed in black with long pants. Marie recalled taking a course on French history in college. During the French Revolution, people were forced to dress alike to dissolve the distinction between aristocrat and commoner. Silks and ruffles were forbidden, and men had to wear long pants. Marie did not understand why she was experiencing this. She moved to the next shop.
A few doors down, a shoemaker, alone in his shop, seemed to be in a hurry as he worked, but occasionally he would look up at the window where Marie stood and stare. Did he know she was there? Marie lifted her finger and tapped on the glass. The shoemaker did not look up from his work. This is just a dream. This isn't real. He can't see me. Then Marie realized that it was her dream, and her creation, and she could speak to anyone she wanted. A bell rang as she closed the shop door.
“Excuse me, sir, I don't speak French; do you speak English?” Marie moved closer to the shoemaker.
“If you would like me to,” said the shoemaker.
“My name is Marie. I'm from New York, in America.” She held out her hand.
“I know who you are,” said the cobbler. He looked up and smiled.
She expected him to have a ghostly presence, but he had reddish cheeks and clear eyes.
“Can you tell me where I am?”
“Paris, of course. 1789.”
“But why? Why am I here?”
The cobbler put down his tools. “You are like my customers. You never ask the right question.”
“What is the right question?”
“I'll tell you when you ask it,” said the shoemaker. “What date is it where you come from?”
“It's 1972,” said Marie.
“Much change must be happening in your world.” He began to polish one of his shoes. “There must be increased interest in metaphysics and the spiritual realm.”
“Yes, it seems so. How do you know?”
“I am a seer. I read people from their shoes. Nothing is more revealing than how we walk through life; I read the imprint. But I will die for my crime of using my intuition and exploring the spiritual realm to help people heal. You are extremely fortunate, Marie. Take advantage of all the opportunities that will come your way. This is just the beginning. The 1970s will be a tremendous time for change. Find out about your history.” He picked up a broom and began to sweep.
“Really? Why?”
The shoemaker turned to respond, but Marie awoke and looked around the room. Sun streamed in through the stained-glass window. An entire night had passed in a flash, and she felt like she had jumped through time and back. It came to her that what the shoemaker meant was to research the history of people who had made the exploration of the spiritual realm their life’s work.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Marie sat in the New York Public Library perusing books on the French Revolution. She looked for the revolution's treatment of seers and psychic readers but could find nothing. The tarot had been around since the Middle Ages in Europe, so she was sure there had to have been readers in Paris during the eighteenth century—but she could find no historical documentation. She left the library and went to Weiser’s Books to continue her research. She found a small book on the history of psychic readers and fortune-tellers in Europe. The author made the following statement:
“I don't believe we can ever know what happened to the seers during the Middle Ages. They were hunted, tortured, and burned as witches. I am sure many survived and continued their work, secretly passing down their wisdom and knowledge to others. Even though France was a Catholic country, Paris was a refuge for displaced psychics and intuitives, much like the expressionist painters in the nineteenth century.”
The writer went on to say that the readers blended into Parisian society and worked in practical professions that allowed them to use their talents. He quoted a woman named Madame Beaumarches, who kept a detailed diary of her experience while imprisoned in the Bastille. She talked about a shoemaker who had been instrumental in helping her deal with her life. She said he was the kindest man she had ever met and that he offered accurate insight into her life when he held her shoes.
“The shoemaker would hold my shoes as if holding a newborn child, and then, as if in a trance, he would talk until no more information would come forth. My life would have been much more difficult without him, and I am sure others have had the same experience. I am eternally grateful for his council.”
Marie slowly lowered herself onto a stool next to the bookshelf. Could it be possible that she had encountered the shoemaker in her dream, or was reading shoes commonplace for seers in Paris? She had reached across what is perceived as linear time while in a dream state. History is there for everyone to touch, she thought, and nothing is fixed in time. She thought of herself as someone who might have survived witch hunts and used her intuitive skills while working in a different profession, which meant she had lived before. She was just at the beginning of her journey, but she could now embark on her quest with an awareness that would light her way.
She brought the book to Bartholomew to purchase it.
“You’re back,” said the clerk, “and so is your friend.”
Marie turned to the street and saw the fedora man standing near the door.
“Guess I should talk with him and hear what he has to say.”
“Not the worst idea,” Bartholomew said.
“Do you think it is safe? I mean, he is following me and he’s strange-looking.”
“You’re not special. Many people are followed by their shadow; you just happen to have manifested yours. Takes skill, but not special.”
“I could be harmed,” said Marie. “That’s a cavalier attitude.”
“Like I said, not special; it’s just the next step. I would like to take care of the next customer.”
Marie stepped out onto the street holding the book to her chest, and she looked up at the tall man. She felt her diminutive size as she stretched to look into his eyes.
“Why are you following me?”
“That’s the big question, isn’t it? I would surmise that you need to get on your path. All that time your aunt spent preparing you, and yet it has taken a back seat.”
“What has taken a back seat?”
“I don’t know why you need to ask that question, but all right. To communicate with the world that nobody sees. Humans are scrambling around, walking through souls that are begging to be recognized. Shame, really.”
“How do you know about my aunt?”
“We have followed her since the earthquake in 1908 to make sure she maintained her connection with the unseen world, and then she shared it with you.”
“Now what?”
“Now you make your choice. I am here to remind you to embrace your intuition and pull back from the linear path you are on. You do not want to live a soulless life, and if you keep negating your intuition and psychic talent, then you will feel soulless. Keep investigating and see where it takes you. At any rate, I have done my job. I wish you luck.” He turned to walk away.
“Wait a minute. Who are you?”
“That’s not important, but I will tell you I am old—older than you can imagine—and I have followed you through lifetimes.”
“Will I see you again?” called Marie, but the man had disappeared.
The events of the past weeks had catapulted Marie into a new beginning. The patterns in her life emerged as connected energies with different paths and timelines. The choice was now hers. She knew the choice needed to be made through her connection with herself, and from a space of confidence.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Marie walked along 5th Avenue on her way to Brentano’s to work her shift. She looked around for the tall man with the fedora, telling herself that she should be frightened with her strange encounters, but she was not. Through her aunt, she had had many unusual experiences in front of the mirror; experiences that most people would consider made up, but now she was sure they were valuable and real.
“Hi, Alister,” Marie said.
“Hi, haven’t seen you in a while. What have you been doing?”
“It’s been a bucket of weird.”
“Weird is good. Better than boredom, and sometimes weird helps us clarify who we are.”
“You know, I think you’re right,” said Marie. “I’ll begin to shelve the new titles.”
Marie decided that she would become her own authority and not listen to the opinion of others. She had had enough of being told she should tiptoe around authority figures so that she would not create waves, intentionally slipping through the cracks so that part of her would be hidden from others. Life would be different from now on.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Marie dialed the number in Nelsonville, knowing her aunt would be the only one home in the middle of the day.
“The fedora man said that I need to follow my intuition more. That is what his appearance has been about. He said I was becoming more linear and could lose who I really am and feel lost regardless of what I achieve.”
“His observation was accurate,” Angela said.
“I’m not sure what that will look like, but I’ll try.”
“If anyone can succeed, you can. When will you be visiting?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll let Mom know. See you soon.”
“I love you, Marie. You have been a gift to me.”
“I love you.”
Marie sat on her bed and flipped through Buckland’s Complete Book of Witchcraft, wondering about her next step. She had continued to see Josh, but she felt herself withdrawing from the relationship. Keeping part of her life hidden from him had created a barrier. He did not notice, but Marie did. She edited her life so that the relationship could continue without disagreement or friction. Any answers she needed she would not find in a book. She just had to be herself and believe that was enough. Josh had accepted a position of a clerk for a judge in New York City, and even though Marie did not see herself as part of that world, she was not ready to let it go.