The raven haired girl

Just the two of us

Olivia loved with her maternal grandmother. Her parents had died in a car crash when she was three. Olivia’s grandmother was her only living relative. She and Gran hadn’t had an easy life. Gran was a fortuneteller by trade, but trade hadn’t always been forthcoming. Olivia could remember some months being very tight. They’d never gone hungry, but theirs wasn’t a name brand life. While growing up, none of this had mattered too much to Olivia. She loved her grandmother. She’d do anything for her. Plus the fact that she shuffled Tarot cards, read palms, and made charms had made her the coolest grandmother in the world. They lived in a two-story house. Gran and Grandpa had bought it in their twenties. It wasn’t glamorous, and it had a few drafts and a touchy heater, but it was the only home Olivia had ever known. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. She let herself in through the front door and called out, “Gran, I’m home!” Nobody answered her. She set her book bag down in the living room and walked to the back of the house. The curtain to Gran’s ‘office’ was drawn. Olivia stared at the length of cloth in puzzlement because she didn’t recall a client being scheduled for that hour. As she pondered the curtain, goosebumps erupted up her arms as a cold prickle ran up her spine. There was an otherworldly presence in the next room. Spirits often manifested like alien air currents, and Gran was channeling it. Mary inched forward to listen in, but all she caught were a couple of indistinct words before the alien air current shifted and came running at her. “Arf! Arf!” “What the—?” she stumbled back and fell down with a thud. The voices behind the curtain stopped. A hand swept the curtain back, and Olivia looked up at her wild-haired grandmother. She always teased it up for the clients. She had on her Gypsy clothes as well. They weren’t Gypsies, nor were the clothes a part of Gypsy culture, but the clients preferred that she wore a long, patchwork skirt and ruffled blouse rather than a bedazzled tracksuit. They wanted her to look ‘authentic’. It didn’t matter to Gran. She would have worn a red rubber nose and a tutu if it would bring in more customers. “Olivia, you’re home!” Gran’s face cracked into a wide, welcoming smile. She leaned down and helped her up off the floor. Mary was about to ask her what she’d been channeling when she saw the client over her shoulder. Her mouth snapped shut, and her eyes widened. A chubby woman with short, curly hazel hair and wearing small rounded glasses peeked out from behind the curtain. She clutched under her arm a small, stuffed, black dog, not the plush toy kind but the taxidermy kind. Mary stared with incredulous eyes. It had been a Scottish Terrier when alive, now it was a furry paperweight with his mouth permanently wired open in a happy pant, and his tail raised in a frozen wag. It was beyond creepy. Mary turned to Gran for an explanation. Gran performed the introductions. “Olivia, I’d like you to meet Mrs. McCann. She’s here to contact her deceased pet Chowder. Mrs. McCann, this is my granddaughter Olivia.” “How do you do?” Mrs. McCann hefted the dog higher under her arm to extend her hand. Ignoring the outstretched hand, Olivia turned to her grandmother. “Chowder?” “Arf!” Mary jumped and looked down at her feet, though there was nothing there to see. “He’s here, isn’t he?” Mrs. McCann gushed, patting the head of the little dog. “You could say that,” Olivia replied. The canine ghost jumped up on one of Olivia’s shins with small invisible paws, wanting the teenager’s attention. She couldn’t see all spirits, most spirits she could just hear and feel.

“Down,” she muttered, shaking her foot. “Chowder, are you here, boy?” Mrs. Mccann called, staring at the ceiling. The little invisible pooch stayed at Olivia’s feet, totally ignoring the voice of his mistress. Olivia grimaced at the floor. She wasn’t a fan of living dogs, never mind dead ones. Gran could see her discomfort. She moved to Mrs. Mccann’s side and took her arm. “No, I believe he’s gone now.” “But he was here. I could almost feel him,” she said as she squeezed the stuffed dog. Gran nodded and patted her arm. “Yes, he was here, and his spirit is strong. I’m sure at our next session, we’ll be able to contact him again.” “Oh, I can’t wait. I so miss my little Chowder.” Mrs. Mccann kissed the dog’s head. Olivia had to swallow hard to keep herself from gagging at the sight. Chowder began to whine and jump at Olivia’s feet again. “Heel,” she said under her breath. “What?” Mrs. Mccann asked. “Nothing,” Olivia quickly lied. Gran gently pulled Mrs. Mccann’s arm. “Let me show you out.” They disappeared behind the curtain. Gran’s office had its own exterior door. Chowder whined one last time at her feet but reluctantly followed his body out of the house. Olivia was in the kitchen chopping vegetables while a pot of water boiled on the stove when Gran came back in. She sat down in a kitchen chair with a heavy sigh. Olivia’s lips twitched. “You were channeling a dog.” “I wouldn’t say channeling, more like taking out for a walk,” Gran said as she walked her fingers across the table. Olivia snickered. “Did you know she’d actually bring ‘Chowder’?” “I did tell her to bring a few of his things,” Gran trailed off as she began to chuckle. Her body shook as she tried to hold in the laughter. “I guess his body qualifies.” “Oh, if you could’ve seen your face when Mrs. McCann came out.” “Could you feel him dancing at my feet? It was all I could do not to kick the air.” “He didn’t become a distinct presence until you arrived,” she commented. That sobered Olivia up. “Yeah, I guess that’s how it goes.” It was one aspect of Olivia’s ability that she hated. A lot of times, places had no idea that they were haunted until she arrived. Most ghosts couldn’t do much on their own. They couldn’t hurl things. They couldn’t manifest. But when Olivia was around, it was like she super-charged them. They discovered that they could finally do things and usually what they wanted to do wasn’t nice. When she was still little, Gran had told her that she had to be careful around ghosts. That it was best not to let them know that she could hear them or anything. It was easy enough to hide her ability except when Gran invited ghosts into their home. “Just let me know when you’re going to channel someone.” Gran got up to put a comforting hand on her back. “I’m sorry. I’ll send you a message to warn you if something like that happens again.” “This wouldn’t be a problem if you only did fortunes.” It was an old argument that didn’t hold any real fire anymore, but she still couldn’t help expressing her anxiety. Gran sighed. “We’ve had this discussion. Fortunetelling isn’t as popular as it once was. I have to do this to pay the bills.” Olivia grimaced and looked away. No, fortunetelling didn’t pay the bills, but it was several degrees safer. “I guess I don’t have to worry too much if Chowder’s the worst you get. Just be careful. I don’t want to come home and find you doing a Linda Blair.” Gran squeezed her shoulders. “Don’t worry about your old grandma. I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I have yet to run across a spirit I couldn’t handle.” “I know.” Changing the subject, Gran asked, “How was your first day of school?” “How do you think?” Olivia chopped the potatoes harder. “What happened?” “Ortega called me in and Zoe gave me some grief.” Gran’s brow furrowed. “He called you in on the first day of school?” “Yep.” “I know he means well, but I wonder about that man sometimes.” “Yeah, he wants to help too much.” “Did nothing good happen?” Sometimes Olivia wondered if Gran had telepathic powers along with her other psychic abilities. She claimed she didn’t, but at times like this, Olivia really wondered. How had she known something good happened? “I met a new guy. He seems cool.” “Oh really?” “We’ll see. He has one class with me and so does Zoe.” “Ignore her.” “I try.” Gran combed her hair with her fingers to smooth it out. She had a far away look on her face. “I have a feeling this year will be different.” “Different doesn’t mean better.” Gran smiled. “It could if you let it.” Olivia didn’t reply. She hated the word different. It was what was hurled at her most often to insult her.