Arlo Gust

(Read: ~11 minutes)

Rosa turned thirteen in the middle of seventh grade. A few days later, flopping wet snowflakes fell from the sky and public schools stayed closed. The university shuttered too so Letitia got the day off along with Rosa. Out on the street, only a few necessary or industrious people did their jobs giving the city a sense of unexpected rest. Rosa joined the neighborhood kids sliding down a nearby hill on plastic discs.

Madame Rouge chose the blustery day to enter Rosa’s life again, indirectly, after several years growing impatient waiting for another chance to illuminate the child’s potential. Her prior statement concerning answers and questions amounted to a direct shot at DOPS and the form of treatment she expected Rosa to get there. Madame Rouge never felt the need to prove herself to anyone and didn’t think Rosa needed to either.

Letitia considered using the unexpected free time to catch up on sleep like everyone else in the city. She never had enough energy and figured most parents felt the same. People relied on her, which brought increased responsibilities. In just a few years at the university, she already managed multiple subordinates in her department. Letitia considered using the snow day to sit on the couch and watch TV all day. Instead, she forced herself to tackle a pile of dirty laundry growing out of control since the building’s washing machine broke a few weeks before. After gathering up enough to fill a plastic laundry basket, she headed to the laundromat across the street, even though she had avoided the strip mall since the parking lot incident and told Rosa not to go over there either.

The coin wash stayed open 24 hours and ran by itself at night without an attendant. During the day, someone collected money from the machines, cleaned the space and hung OUT OF ORDER signs on broken units. The owners bolted the equipment and furniture to the floor, including a couple of benches made from molded plastic set along the side wall. The spot was one of John the Drunk’s favorite places to pass out until the bar next door opened up at 10:00 a.m. Snow days always stayed busy at the bar.

No one expected Madame Rouge to open the reading room on a snow day. She hated walking in the snow. If snow hit the ground, she skipped work. The footprints she left in the snow while shuffling all the way from the stoop of her apartment building to the back door of the reading room surprised anyone familiar with her quirks and routines.

As Letitia headed across the street with her basket of laundry, Madame Rouge came out the front door of the shop and slowly made her own way toward the coin wash. The women’s paths finally crossed again after several years at the laundromat’s front door. Madame Rouge smiled and formally introduced herself, adding a comment about a spill on her favorite shawl. She opened the door for Letitia, who greeted her with a thank you.

John woke up to a small bell ringing when the women entered. He cleared the hangover from his eyes, needing a double take when he noticed Madame Rouge and the cute single mom from across the street. He shook his head and wondered if the remaining booze in his gut triggered the vision. After a few seconds, satisfied the women were not spirits, he rolled over on his side and pretended to sleep and continued to eavesdrop.

Letitia noticed John on the bench and remembered him from before in the parking lot. She warily picked a washing machine on the other side of the room. Madam Rouge followed behind her and struck up a conversation while Letitia began to load her dirty laundry.

“It’s tough being a mom to a special child,” she started. “I remember when my mother noticed my gifts.”

Letitia dropped soap into the washer.

“I was younger than Rosa is now. My mother asked who I kept talking to,” Madame Rouge described Lucia’s reaction to young Maria talking to no one in particular.

Letitia closed the washer’s door and selected a fabric cycle.

“She did not like my explanation that spirits spoke to me and their bodies appeared sometimes, too,” Madame Rouge continued. “She told me to hush and never speak of such blasphemy again to anyone. See, my folks converted to a religion whose prophet claimed vision directly from God. She taught how communication from deceased family and friends was the work of devils, meant to take advantage of human weakness through deception.”

Letitia slipped coins in the slot and hit start.

“For a long time, no one else besides my parents knew spirits visited me, though both of them refused to talk to me about it. No one helped me deal with the departed, who share all kinds of thoughts, ideas, memories, complaints and suggestions. The lady my folks worshiped was wrong. Mine is a gift from God; I’m an operator sitting at His switchboard, connecting the dots for folks, whether people believe or deny what’s relayed.”

Letitia empathized with Madame Rough and her mother and she reached out to touch the old lady’s hand.

“How did your relationship work out with your mom?” Letitia asked.

Madame Rouge squeezed Letitia’s hand.

“My mother finally accepted my gifts before she died, after seeing people get help. My father never did,” the mystic lamented. “I never blamed my mother for feeling afraid and seeking safety in her faith,” Madame Rouge continued. “She followed the wrong advice. But the effects of the fear hindered what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, like exploring the world. The urge to hide affects every one of my interactions to this day.”

Letitia gave Madame Rouge a sympathetic look.

“How did you break free from the fear and finally share your gift?”

“I decided to stop hiding in my early twenties. A neighbor a few years younger than me died in a war overseas, but soon his spirit visited with a message for his mother. I felt how he hurt, so I asked the woman to listen to what her son had to say.”

“The man’s spirit came to you even though he died somewhere else?” Letitia asked.

“Yes, I can’t remember exactly what he wanted her to hear, such a long time ago,” Madame Rouge answered. “He was sorry for his mistakes. He died bravely and didn’t suffer.”

“Hearing the message helped your neighbor?”

“Yes, she felt comforted, happier after we talked. She moved on with her life and I decided to share my gifts with the community, spending every penny to open the reading room here in the strip mall. Keeping time and events straight gets tougher when the archive lives up here,” she said, pointing to her head, wrapped with a colorful scarf. “I shared countless visions over the years with thousands of people, never wrote any down like Ellen White or the fella’ down in Virginia Beach.”

The latter referenced Edgar Cayce, a clairvoyant healer who generated over fourteen thousand separate readings during trancelike conversations with his higher self, which often referenced reincarnation. Unlike adventist Ellen White’s claims of profoundly divine inspiration, Edgar Cayce spoke of tapping into a greater consciousness, a place where all of us are connected and time doesn’t matter.

Finally, Madame Rouge divulged the reason she followed Letitita into the laundry.

“I came because it’s time to share my knowledge with Rosa.”

Letitia looked at the mystic, stared into her eyes for a few seconds, trying to gauge the veracity of the old lady’s words.

“Where did you hear Rosa’s name before? Even back then, you already knew,” Letitia asked while adjusting the washing machine’s settings.

“I’ve heard marvelous assessments about her from different sources. Who she’s been and who she’ll become.”

Letitia put in the coins and hit start, letting out a small sigh of relief.

“She’ll be OK?” the mother asked about her child.

“Worrying never helps, but does lots of harm,” Madame Rouge answered. “Any gift can be a blessing or a curse, depending on your viewpoint and attitude.”

Letitia put her head down and nodded. She understood the feeling.

“Sometimes, the weight of Rosa’s gifts presses down on me. The worry swells up in my chest until breathing is difficult and my heart nearly explodes,” the mother described her anxiety as tears began to form in the corner of her eyes and her voice began to crack. “A few years ago in the parking lot, when you exposed Rosa in front of all those people and made her vulnerable to all their worst impulses and instincts, that was my worst nightmare,” Letitia confided while looking over at John.

“Sorry dear, I got caught up in my own excitement and made a mistake.”

Letitia shrugged. She realized Rosa needed ways to protect herself, from who or what Letitia just couldn’t know.

“Maybe you were right and Rosa needs another gifted person in ways no one else understands.”

Madame Rouge responded.

“Plenty of folks think I’m a fraud who tricks people by manipulating their emotions. The spirits still come with messages. People still need help with money troubles, love, birth, illness and death and I still don’t need tricks.”

“What do you need?” Letitia asked.

“Only the tools given by my creator to tap into His great gift.”

A buzzer screamed out the finish to the dryer cycle, startling everyone. John resituated himself so he still looked asleep while keeping an eye on the situation. Letitia began to take pieces of clothing out of the dryer to fold. Madame Rouge kept speaking.

“Your instincts told you she needed help, taught, not studied.”

“Taught what?” Letitia asked.

“How to use her connection to the universe to understand the forces around her, seen and unseen,” Madame Rouge answered. “My mother and father struggled to understand my gifts; you can empathize. Your concern for Rosa is valid. Connecting calls from beyond our own time and place comes with risk. The best operators get their wires crossed which can be dangerous. Rosa needs my help to learn what she needs to know. And coincidentally, she could help keep the reading room clean and run errands.”

When she finished folding the laundry, Letitia told the mystic she would think about their conversation and discuss the mystic’s offer with Rosa.

Madame Rouge responded Rosa was lucky to have such a great mom.

After saying farewell, Madame Rouge started to walk toward the exit. Before leaving, she stopped and turned to talk to Letitia again.

“Dear, my father was such a hard worker taking care of other people and always felt run down. Maybe a doctor’s visit is wise,” she advised with a smile, then shuffled back to her storefront and through the door of her reading room.

Letitia brushed off the comment while trudging back across the snow-covered street with her clean laundry. Climbing the stairs to the apartment, her mind filled with remaining chores. The rest of the day, Letitia cleaned the apartment and fell asleep soon after dinner.

After the two women left the laundromat, John the Drunk went home to sleep instead of going to the bar to drink.