My partner pursuit could have been going better. I wasn’t finding or attracting the right kind of men.  I’m unsure what the right type is, but I think I’ll know it if I see it. Something will click.

On the first Thursday of every month, my friend, Audrey, runs The Happiness Club in Hartford County. It’s a gathering of friends and strangers who get together and listen to a guest speaker Audrey brings in. She finds people from all walks of life to talk to the group about a wide variety of different topics. There’s no specific formula; it’s just a friendly get-together. At one meeting, her guest speaker was a clairvoyant. I had never been to a psychic or a clairvoyant in my lifetime, and I was utterly skeptical. However, I sat in the front row and listened to what this little woman with an Irish accent had to say.

After introducing herself, she went around the room, answering questions for anyone who raised their hand. I kept mine down until the end but finally had to ask about something. I did not want to ask about my love life. I’d be afraid to hear her response.

My heart skipped when she looked at me, my hand slightly raised with hesitation

“What would you like to ask me?” she said unemotionally

“Is my brother, Todd, okay?” I asked. Todd had died from a drug overdose in 1987. He was 25 years old, and the loss devastated my family, especially my parents. They stayed married, but not in the kind of marriage anyone would want.

“Todd is very sad,” the woman told me, her eyes closed, deep in thought. “But he is with your father, so he is not alone.” 

“Is my mother with them?” I asked, now thoroughly intrigued because she knew my father was dead. Considering I’m over 70, it was no remarkable feat to guess that Dad had passed on, but you never know.

“No,” she said abruptly. “She is not there. She is elsewhere.”  I have to say, Mom was a flirt. She was probably with an old boyfriend from her days at Weaver High School. She often spoke of a guy named Milt who was her high school crush. When she saw Milt’s obituary in the Hartford Courant, she stuck it up on the fridge, and I swear she sat shiva. She was probably hanging out with him in heaven. My older brother, Gary, said she was probably with Buster Crabbe. He was an actor she dated in the early 1940’s. He was the first Tarzan in motion pictures; then came Johnny Weissmuller. Mom was in her early 20’s when she met Buster Crabbe at Ocean Beach in New London, CT. Her dating an actor was the talk of the town. 

I came away from that Happiness Club meeting with a different take on psychics. I wasn’t ready to get a tarot card reading or anything like that, but to me this woman had more credibility now than when the evening started. 

 Recently, I recalled that evening and the clairvoyant. I had received many messages from men on Zotsky, but no dates materialized. I deleted more profiles than I responded to. So many only had high school educations, and that is off-putting to me. Perhaps I sound snobby, but I love to learn, and I can’t see learning from someone who had no interest in higher education. I tried to recall the name of the clairvoyant from the Happiness Club, but I couldn’t remember it. However, I was certain I could do a Google search and find someone else who could see into my future. I opened my laptop and entered “psychics near me” in the search bar and came up with three individuals not very far from me. I chose Madam Sonya.

“I can see you at 4 p.m. today if you’d like,” she told me. (That made me think she wasn’t in great demand, but what the heck…I’d give it a try.) She sounded kind, and I accepted her offer. She told me her address. Her home was a few towns over. It would take me about a half hour to get to her. If nothing else, this would give me something to write about. Also, I was working on my taxes at the time, and felt my meeting with Madame Sonya would be a welcome distraction. Numbers and I don’t get along well.

I arrived at Madam Sonya’s house about ten minutes early and called her from my car. I wasn’t sure where I should enter her home. After two rings, she picked up the phone and instructed me to enter through a side door. She said she’d be waiting for me there.  I did what she told me; she was right at the door as promised. She wore a long, black, shapeless dress with a thin, beaded rust-color scarf hanging  loosely from her neck. She was not the epitome of fashion, but her smile was very welcoming, which put me at ease.

“My, you’ve been very busy today,” she immediately said. Numbers with dollar signs are floating all around your head. Do you work with numbers?”

I was dumbfounded. How did she know that?