“You know that I’m psychic, Sara. More so when I was a child, but… I knew this was going to happen.” Johnny points a bony finger at his stomach, his baggy green shirt hiding a dialysis catheter.
“Well, I thought it was gonna be on the other side.” He points again. “But I knew this was going to happen.”
I nod, glancing at the gold chain around his neck. Daddy shifts in the bed and I smile at him. He smiles back but he’s lost weight. His lower dentures don’t fit well in his mouth and his jaw makes me think of of plastic skulls sold at Halloween, mouth jerking open and closed.
“Jim, you remember that time that Aunt Margaret got hit by a car?” Daddy shakes his head no.
“I was little, six or seven, and I was out riding my bike with a girl in the neighborhood. We came up to a stop sign and there was blood, just a pool of it, all over the ground. I saw the blood and I knew it was Aunt Margaret’s.”
I drop my Blackberry into my purse and cross my legs, looking quizzically at Johnny.
“Yeah. I knew, Sara. I knew. I saw this dark puddle, right by the curb and it was hers. I rode my bike as fast as I could back home and ran through the screen door, hollerin’ at mama and Aunt Virginia, ‘Aunt Margaret got hit by a car.’ They thought I was crazy. Of course they did, a fucking hysterical little kid. They asked, ‘Well John, did you see her?’ And I kept tellin’ them, ‘No, but I saw her blood.’ And sure enough, about a minute later, the phone rang and it was the hospital.”
“I remember that.” Daddy runs his hand over the white and gray, week-old beard that covers his chin.
“You were in Connecticut, Jim.” Johnny shakes his head.
Daddy glares at him. “I remember getting the phone call about it.”
As I stepped onto the elevator I hit the button for the first floor and speed dialed my sister. “Sae, it’s a goddamn miracle I’m not crazier than I am.”