Week 4: “I don't skate to where the puck is. I skate to where the puck is going to be. "
“Excuse me, Miss?" A gentle voice on my right says.
I close my book over my finger, saving my page, and turn to see who was trying to get my attention. It's an older man, perhaps in his late 70s or early 80. He smiles when I face him. I can't help but to smile back at him. "Yes?" I reply.
"I was told you might be able to help me."
I look around at the park. It's empty. Who told him what? Maybe he's senile. "I'm sorry, Sir. Who said I can help with what?"
The man paused briefly and nodded. "Gavin said you could help me."
Gavin? Gavin! How does this man know about Gavin?
"Don't be alarmed, Dear," the man soothes. "I have a Gavin, too. Only mine is named Earl."
Trust him comes a voice. Gavin's voice. He'd been quiet for months up until this point. I thought he was gone forever. But, here is, with me, this old man, and I guess Earl.
I'm sure a few minutes have passed with me too shocked to say anything. Thankfully, the old man breaks the silence. "My name is Quint. I'm a medium, and I'm looking for another medium to help me."
"How do you know I'm a medium?" I ask, fairly certain I know the answer.
"I guess you can say, I heard it through the grapevine." Quint chuckles. "Earl has been doing some scouting. Connected with...Gavin, was it?"
I nod. Pretty much what I thought.
"Forgive me, Miss. I don't know your name. You know how the companions are. I know it's something with an L. Linda? Lydia?"
"Lynne," I reply. Then ask, "You call Earl a companion?"
Quint smiles. "Yes. He's been in my life for many years. For the last few, he's been just about the only friend I've had. What do you call Gavin?"
"He was-or is-my guide.”
Quint nods. "I've heard that one before." We're quiet for a couple minutes when he asks, "So, Lynne, what is your story?"
Confused, I repeat, "My story?"
"Yes. About you, and how you discovered all this," he motions with his hand around the park.
I know he doesn't mean how I discovered this park. I take a deep breath and tell him my story. I tell him how my paternal grandmother was a medium, too, but none of her children--my father included--had "the gift" as she liked to call it.
I tell him how Gavin was my first and only guide, but I've communicated with other spirits. I discovered this ability at age 10, and twenty years later I still don't know how I feel about it. I even tell him how I pushed Gavin away a few months ago when my boyfriend of two years broke up with me because my guide "weirded" him out.
"What does Gavin look like?" Quint asks when I finally stop talking.
I smile. "I don't know," I reply. "I don't see him or any other spirits. It's just something I feel. Like some type of energy. I feel him and hear him. I don't see him."
Quint nods. He seems satisfied with my answer. "How often do you feel other energies? Other spirits?"
"Every now and then." I shrug. "They always have a different feeling from Gavin."
Again, Quint nods. "I'm looking for someone, like you, a young medium, to take my place."
"Take your place in what?"
Quint slowly gets to his feet. "Would you mind walking with me? I'll tell you about it."
I check my watch, unnecessarily. It's Saturday, and I have nothing to do all day. "Sure. I have a few hours to kill." I put my book in my purse and get up.
For the first time, I notice the black satchel that Quint is putting over his shoulder. It makes a jingling noise as it moves. "Follow me," he commands.
I obey. "Would you like me to carry your bag? It looks heavy."
"No, that’s okay. Thank you, though. It will get lighter as we walk."
We walk in silence for a couple minutes. Twice during that time, I see him take a penny out of the satchel and placing it on the ground. When he does it for the third time, I question him about it.
"Shh," Quint says and winks at me. "Come here." He leads me to a tree, where we have a view of the spot where he put the penny. He checks his watch. "Just a minute now."
And a minute later, a woman is walking near where the last penny was placed. She bends down, picks it up, and looks to the sky with a smile.
"That's sweet," I say. "You made her day by just putting a penny on the ground for her to find."
Quint smiles and nods. Again we walk in silence. He sporadically places pennies on the ground. Eventually, what I originally thought of as a nice gesture was becoming stranger, and I still had no idea what he wanted my help with.
As we exit the park, Quint asks me, "You grandmother, the medium, is she still alive?"
I looked at my feet. "No. She passed away a few years ago."
"You miss her." It wasn't a question.
"I do. I keep hoping she'd come to me. She knows I have the gift."
A woman walks by us then, wearing the same perfume that my grandmother used to wear. Suddenly, I’m a child again listening to my grandmother tell me stories. Searching for shiny rocks together to add to my collection. God I miss her, I think. I am lost in the thought and the smell of my grandmother.
"Lynne?" I hear Quint, snapping me out of my trance.
"Oh sorry. It's so strange. We were just talking about my grandmother, and this woman walks by wearing the same perfume my grandmother used to wear. It was like she was telling me she was here, without actually coming to me."
"You're learning," Quint says quietly. He places another penny on the ground. He walks to the doorway of a nearby card shop; we have a view of the penny. I watch as a man sees the penny, picks it up, and wipes his eyes.
I start to understand, and Quint sees it in my face.
"Spirits approach me quite often. They want me to tell their loved ones that they are around. They started telling me where to find their loved ones, I would find them, and tell them things like, 'Your mother wants you to know she's proud of you.' That method quickly became emotionally exhausting. So, I started leaving pennies, stones, and other small...offerings, I guess you can call them, for the people to find. It's better for my mental health, and a little more convenient. I don't have to be where these people are, I just need to know where they're going. The spirits usually know the routines."
"So, where do I fit in?" I ask tentatively.
"I'm going to die," Quint says bluntly. "According to my doctor, and Earl, I have a couple months. I'm looking for some to take over."
"But," I start to protest, but Quint cuts me off.
"It's not a job, you don't get paid. Not in money, anyway. You don't have to accept every request, either. Sometimes for one reason or another, you just can't. You seem to be able to block out spirits when you want to, so that's good."
“How do you know I can block out spirits?” He’s right, but how does he know?
“First of all, you told me how you pushed away Gavin.”
I nod in agreement.
“And, second, you don’t see your grandmother.”
“What?”
Quint reaches into his bag, and rummages around for a couple seconds. His hand comes out in a fist. When he opens his hand, I see a beautiful, shiny green rock. “For your collection,” he says, handing me the rock.
Tears steam down my face as I reach for the stone. When it’s in my hand, I rub my thumb over it. It’s smooth and cool to the touch. I feel my block go down. I literally feel it, like the removal of a robe. “Grandma,” I whisper.
I wipe my eyes and use my sleeve to dry my face. “I’ll do it,” I tell Quint. “If I can help someone feel this amazing, then I will do it.”
"We thought you would," Quint says, mischievously.
"We?" I ask, puzzled.
"Me and your grandmother," he explains. "The passed spirits always knows which way their loved ones are going."
I close my book over my finger, saving my page, and turn to see who was trying to get my attention. It's an older man, perhaps in his late 70s or early 80. He smiles when I face him. I can't help but to smile back at him. "Yes?" I reply.
"I was told you might be able to help me."
I look around at the park. It's empty. Who told him what? Maybe he's senile. "I'm sorry, Sir. Who said I can help with what?"
The man paused briefly and nodded. "Gavin said you could help me."
Gavin? Gavin! How does this man know about Gavin?
"Don't be alarmed, Dear," the man soothes. "I have a Gavin, too. Only mine is named Earl."
Trust him comes a voice. Gavin's voice. He'd been quiet for months up until this point. I thought he was gone forever. But, here is, with me, this old man, and I guess Earl.
I'm sure a few minutes have passed with me too shocked to say anything. Thankfully, the old man breaks the silence. "My name is Quint. I'm a medium, and I'm looking for another medium to help me."
"How do you know I'm a medium?" I ask, fairly certain I know the answer.
"I guess you can say, I heard it through the grapevine." Quint chuckles. "Earl has been doing some scouting. Connected with...Gavin, was it?"
I nod. Pretty much what I thought.
"Forgive me, Miss. I don't know your name. You know how the companions are. I know it's something with an L. Linda? Lydia?"
"Lynne," I reply. Then ask, "You call Earl a companion?"
Quint smiles. "Yes. He's been in my life for many years. For the last few, he's been just about the only friend I've had. What do you call Gavin?"
"He was-or is-my guide.”
Quint nods. "I've heard that one before." We're quiet for a couple minutes when he asks, "So, Lynne, what is your story?"
Confused, I repeat, "My story?"
"Yes. About you, and how you discovered all this," he motions with his hand around the park.
I know he doesn't mean how I discovered this park. I take a deep breath and tell him my story. I tell him how my paternal grandmother was a medium, too, but none of her children--my father included--had "the gift" as she liked to call it.
I tell him how Gavin was my first and only guide, but I've communicated with other spirits. I discovered this ability at age 10, and twenty years later I still don't know how I feel about it. I even tell him how I pushed Gavin away a few months ago when my boyfriend of two years broke up with me because my guide "weirded" him out.
"What does Gavin look like?" Quint asks when I finally stop talking.
I smile. "I don't know," I reply. "I don't see him or any other spirits. It's just something I feel. Like some type of energy. I feel him and hear him. I don't see him."
Quint nods. He seems satisfied with my answer. "How often do you feel other energies? Other spirits?"
"Every now and then." I shrug. "They always have a different feeling from Gavin."
Again, Quint nods. "I'm looking for someone, like you, a young medium, to take my place."
"Take your place in what?"
Quint slowly gets to his feet. "Would you mind walking with me? I'll tell you about it."
I check my watch, unnecessarily. It's Saturday, and I have nothing to do all day. "Sure. I have a few hours to kill." I put my book in my purse and get up.
For the first time, I notice the black satchel that Quint is putting over his shoulder. It makes a jingling noise as it moves. "Follow me," he commands.
I obey. "Would you like me to carry your bag? It looks heavy."
"No, that’s okay. Thank you, though. It will get lighter as we walk."
We walk in silence for a couple minutes. Twice during that time, I see him take a penny out of the satchel and placing it on the ground. When he does it for the third time, I question him about it.
"Shh," Quint says and winks at me. "Come here." He leads me to a tree, where we have a view of the spot where he put the penny. He checks his watch. "Just a minute now."
And a minute later, a woman is walking near where the last penny was placed. She bends down, picks it up, and looks to the sky with a smile.
"That's sweet," I say. "You made her day by just putting a penny on the ground for her to find."
Quint smiles and nods. Again we walk in silence. He sporadically places pennies on the ground. Eventually, what I originally thought of as a nice gesture was becoming stranger, and I still had no idea what he wanted my help with.
As we exit the park, Quint asks me, "You grandmother, the medium, is she still alive?"
I looked at my feet. "No. She passed away a few years ago."
"You miss her." It wasn't a question.
"I do. I keep hoping she'd come to me. She knows I have the gift."
A woman walks by us then, wearing the same perfume that my grandmother used to wear. Suddenly, I’m a child again listening to my grandmother tell me stories. Searching for shiny rocks together to add to my collection. God I miss her, I think. I am lost in the thought and the smell of my grandmother.
"Lynne?" I hear Quint, snapping me out of my trance.
"Oh sorry. It's so strange. We were just talking about my grandmother, and this woman walks by wearing the same perfume my grandmother used to wear. It was like she was telling me she was here, without actually coming to me."
"You're learning," Quint says quietly. He places another penny on the ground. He walks to the doorway of a nearby card shop; we have a view of the penny. I watch as a man sees the penny, picks it up, and wipes his eyes.
I start to understand, and Quint sees it in my face.
"Spirits approach me quite often. They want me to tell their loved ones that they are around. They started telling me where to find their loved ones, I would find them, and tell them things like, 'Your mother wants you to know she's proud of you.' That method quickly became emotionally exhausting. So, I started leaving pennies, stones, and other small...offerings, I guess you can call them, for the people to find. It's better for my mental health, and a little more convenient. I don't have to be where these people are, I just need to know where they're going. The spirits usually know the routines."
"So, where do I fit in?" I ask tentatively.
"I'm going to die," Quint says bluntly. "According to my doctor, and Earl, I have a couple months. I'm looking for some to take over."
"But," I start to protest, but Quint cuts me off.
"It's not a job, you don't get paid. Not in money, anyway. You don't have to accept every request, either. Sometimes for one reason or another, you just can't. You seem to be able to block out spirits when you want to, so that's good."
“How do you know I can block out spirits?” He’s right, but how does he know?
“First of all, you told me how you pushed away Gavin.”
I nod in agreement.
“And, second, you don’t see your grandmother.”
“What?”
Quint reaches into his bag, and rummages around for a couple seconds. His hand comes out in a fist. When he opens his hand, I see a beautiful, shiny green rock. “For your collection,” he says, handing me the rock.
Tears steam down my face as I reach for the stone. When it’s in my hand, I rub my thumb over it. It’s smooth and cool to the touch. I feel my block go down. I literally feel it, like the removal of a robe. “Grandma,” I whisper.
I wipe my eyes and use my sleeve to dry my face. “I’ll do it,” I tell Quint. “If I can help someone feel this amazing, then I will do it.”
"We thought you would," Quint says, mischievously.
"We?" I ask, puzzled.
"Me and your grandmother," he explains. "The passed spirits always knows which way their loved ones are going."