Seeing Black (6 page)

Jill stood up to greet him, but he placed his hand
on her shoulder prompting her to stay seated. “Good morning, Rocco.
Your home is lovely.”

“Thank you.” He sat down across from her, poured
himself some orange juice, and looked out at the greenery. “I find
it peaceful out here.”

“I’ve never played.” Jill motioned to the golf
course “Are you good?”

Rocco laughed. “I saw this house and fell in love
with the architecture, the neighborhood, and the beauty of the
course, but, believe it or not, I don’t play. I don’t like the
game. Never have.”

“Well, I have to admit it’s kind of strange that
your backyard consists of miles of golf course when you dislike the
game. Maybe it’s not so much you dislike it as you’re no good at
it.”

Rocco roared out a laugh. “You are very
presumptuous. You don’t hold back much, do you?”

“No. Not so much. It’s always been a problem. Gets
me into lots of trouble sometimes.”

“I’m sure it does. Your mother was like that.”

“She was?” The only person who ever spoke about her
mother was Helen, and she’d been dead for five years. It felt nice
to hear someone say something about her.

“Yes. She was very gregarious. People gravitated
towards her.”

“How’d you two meet?”

“I see you want to get right into the
questions?”

“I’m sorry. That was rude of me,” Jill said,
embarrassed. She didn’t mean to be rude to her host. “I don’t have
much time, and there are so many things I want to know, especially
about my mother.”

“But I have all day. Do you have plans? Why are you
in such a hurry?”

After being independent for so long, it felt awkward
acknowledging that Alexander was the problem. It felt uncomfortable
to say it out loud. She felt childish. But regardless of the fact
that Alexander was indeed domineering, overprotective, and
possessive, he was also loving and caring, and everything he did
was due to his unwavering love for her. Because of this, not in
spite of it, she loved him, and she promised him she’d be cautious.
She always kept her promises. Therefore, she wouldn’t be ashamed of
her ridiculously domineering, overprotective, and possessive
boyfriend.

“Alexander is worried about me being here. As a
matter of fact, so are the rest of my friends.”

“I see.” He took another sip of his juice and
proceeded to eat the eggs benedict that had been placed in front of
him while they conversed. “I’m curious, Jillian. Why are they all
so concerned?”

Ha! Where to start? You snuck into my house and left
a cryptic note. According to Helen’s journals, you were so evil
that my mother had to escape to the other side of the world to
avoid you. There’s a police report that leads me to believe you may
be a murderer. Paul Black, a man I thought I could love, tried to
manipulate me to get to you, and someone is warning me—in my
fucking mind—that if I don’t find you, you’ll hurt my friends. Yep,
that about sums it up. Then it hit her. Shit!

“Can you read my mind? Did you just . . .?” Jill
pointed to her head.

Rocco chuckled and answered. “No. But I can feel
your unease. That’s about all I have left.” She gasped, almost fell
off her chair. It scared her to know how connected they were, yet
she was relieved he couldn’t hear her thoughts. Knowing what
someone felt was still a lot of power to have over someone. He
neatly and patiently buttered some bread then placed it aside. He
must have noticed—or felt—her shock, confusion, and unease. “I can
only do this with
you
.”

“Why? Because I’m your daughter?”

“Yes. For that precise reason.”

“What do you mean by ‘that’s all I have left’?”

“Think of parapsychological powers as an extra
sense. Sight, smell, touch, hearing, taste, and, in our case,
foresight, as in seeing the future. That’s our extrasensory skill.
For some it may be telepathy, as in reading minds, or telekinesis,
which involves moving objects using only your mind. I once met a
woman who was telekinetic. That was very interesting. With a lot of
concentration, she could move a spoon half an inch, but that’s as
far she ever got. She tried and tried to move it further or to move
something else, but it never happened. Once, I met a man who said
he could levitate, but I think it was all a trick. His profession
was that of a magician, so I think he was pulling my leg. The point
is, if we exist, I am sure there are people out there with other
extra senses. But we—you, me, and Josef—are the only psychics I’ve
ever met, and I’ve looked. It’s in our DNA. There doesn’t seem to
be any other explanation than that.” He took a bite of his food
before he continued. He spoke slowly, deliberately. “Just like most
of your senses, as you age, they begin to deteriorate. I don’t see
as well as I used to.” He pointed to his glasses. “My hearing’s not
as good as it used to be. Most food tastes bland nowadays, and
well, I cannot see the future any longer. For the last twenty years
or so, it’s been diminishing, and now, I can’t
see
anything.
My psychic abilities are gone, completely. I can’t even visualize
unintentionally.”

“Unintentionally?”

“Yeah, the way you see the future. It just
blindsides you, and you see something that normally occurs a
moment, a day, or a year later.”

“And that’s not how you see, or, excuse me,
saw
the future?”

“Nope. I learned to control it years ago. Through
practice, we’ve been able to do what’s called psychic remote
viewing or PRV for short.”

“We?”

“Josef and I.”

“Who’s Josef? You mentioned him before.”

“My half-brother, your uncle. You’ll meet him soon.
I warn you now that people tend to find him intimidating. He is
rather quiet and serious, an introvert, really.”

“Shit.” She gasped and put a hand over her mouth.
“Excuse me. I didn’t mean to curse. It’s just that I went to having
absolutely no real family to having a father and an uncle.”

“Well, I warn you now he’s not the lovable quirky
uncle you’re probably expecting.”

“Duly noted. I won’t dote on him when we meet.” She
laughed and rolled her eyes before continuing, “May I ask you
something that may seem peculiar?” Jill didn’t even wait for a
response. “I feel weird even saying it, but will you please
not
read my mind or my feelings or whatever it is that you
can
do? I think you’re telling me the truth, but just in
case, I had to say that. If we’re going to get to know one another,
I want to have a level playing field, and you getting into my head
is uncomfortable.”

“I am telling you the truth. I cannot read minds. I
never have been able to—not even yours—but you should know that
you’re pretty much an open book. Since I’m able to feel your
emotions, you make yourself so readable. You think I’m reading your
mind, but I’m not. I can’t.”

“Thank you for being honest about your abilities.
You could’ve lied, and I would’ve never known.”

“I would never lie to you. A lie told often enough
becomes the truth.”

“I’ve heard that before.” Jill took a moment to
think where she’d heard that before. “It’s Stalin, right?” she
asked.

“Close. Vladimir Lenin.”

Jill took a moment to process. Helen’s little quips
and sayings were always perfect and optimistic, and often times,
Helen used them to teach her something important about life. Those
sayings had stayed with her through the years and always brought a
smile to her face. They were sweet and cute and usually apropos to
whatever situation she was going through at the moment. Vladimir
Lenin wasn’t sweet or cute. Did her father just use the 1920s
Soviet Revolutionist dictator to teach her his first little
father-daughter life lesson about lying?

“My aunt used to tell me little sayings all the
time. I’ve always wondered if she and my mother shared that. Can
you tell me a little about her? About my mother?” she asked,
skimming right over the inappropriate Leninism.

“Your mother was always quoting something or
someone. A lot of the things I say come from her. She used to say
things like that all the time. She was a Finance major but was
getting her Masters in English. It made no sense to me, but that
was your mother, a conundrum. If you ever hear me quote someone,
know that I learned it from your mother. Even all these years
later, I remember her sayings. They always came out of nowhere. But
before we get to your mother, I want to know how you feel about me?
Your friends are worried. Why is that?”

She wasn’t sure how much information she should give
him. He could still be dangerous. She kept the existence of the
journals to herself for the time being. She wasn’t ready to lay all
her cards on the table just yet. That meant she couldn’t tell him
about the criminal record she found, which accused Rocco of murder.
Without that, there wasn’t much to explain why he was feared. So
she decided to bend the truth a little.

“I always got the impression from Helen that my
mother was afraid of you, and my friends know this. You know that
Alexander and Oliver grew up with me on the island. Helen made it
seem as if my mother was very afraid of you. Why is that?”

“Helen told you this?” Rocco seemed to think about
his answer for a long time before he spoke again. Jillian only
nodded in the affirmative. “I never met your aunt. Your mother
didn’t speak about her often. They were actually estranged. Did you
know that?”

“They were?” Jill looked at him, surprised. “I don’t
understand. Helen dropped everything to take my mother to Thailand
to . . .” She didn’t finish the thought.

Rocco finished it for her. “To get away from me.”
Jill nodded.

“Why? Why, Rocco? Why would my mother be afraid of
you? Please, tell me so I can feel better about getting to know
you. I don’t want my friends to worry.
I
don’t want to
worry. I hate feeling guilty.”

“Guilty?”

“Yeah, guilty. I mean, my God, Rocco, my mother
packed up all her things to move across the planet to get away from
you. That had to be more than a lover’s quarrel. I feel as if I’m
going against her wishes by meeting with you.”

Rocco leaned back and seemed to get himself
comfortable. “I don’t want you to feel guilty. I do want you to
visit me. I want you to do so often. I want your friends to know
you are safe.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I was very
much in love with your mother. Esther was a beautiful woman and
very vivacious. You look a lot like her, except for your red hair
and green eyes, of course. Those are from my side of the
family.”

“Yep, I noticed that.” She pulled her curls.

“Yes, but the curls come from her.” He smiled. “Do
you know how we met?” he asked. Jill shook her head. “It was love
at first sight. I know how cliché that sounds, but it was. She was
the research assistant of a colleague of mine, Harold Sapinski. I
walked into his office in a rush as she walked out, and we crashed
into each other. She had a handful of papers to grade, and they
flew all over the place. When I saw her face, well, it was love at
first sight. She was indignant, cursed, and yelled at me to watch
where I was going. She was a fiery little thing, but after I helped
her pick up and sort all her papers, she agreed to have coffee with
me. I was ten years her senior. After much begging on my part, mind
you, we began to date.” Jill was mesmerized by the conversation;
anything and everything to do with her family was foreign to her.
Rocco poured some coffee into a mug and sat back on the wrought
iron chair. Looking afar, he continued to speak. “It wasn’t all
roses all the time. Your mother was a firecracker. I suspect you
are too.” He smiled at Jill who turned away from his intense gaze.
“After a short courtship, I was able to convince her to move in
with me. We were inseparable for many years.”

“How many years?”

“I’m not great with dates, but we were together
about six years, I think.”

“Did she know about your clairvoyance?”

“I already knew how to control it. She wouldn’t have
known unless I told her, which I did. Within a few months of
dating, I felt I could trust her enough to tell her. It was a huge
weight off my shoulders. I had never told anyone before. I was
scared she’d think I was crazy.”

“A freak.” Jill chimed in.

“Exactly. A freak. That’s how I felt for many years,
until I learned to embrace it. It isn’t a bad thing, Jillian.”

“How can you say that. I dread it every day.”

“There were years, decades, actually, where I would
dread that the knowing would return. I just wanted to be . . .”

“Normal.” Jill finished his thought.

“Yes. Exactly. Normal. That’s all I wanted, but what
is normal, Jillian? I mean some people have curly hair, some
straight; some people are good at sports, and some are good at
math. If you think of your visions, of your ‘knowing,’ as a skill
and learn how to use it, how to make it something you can use
instead of something that consumes you, it is wonderful. Imagine
the possibilities. You would be able to know the future. A true
psychic. Things you actually want to know. It won’t creep up on
you. You can sit in the comfort of your home, at whatever time you
want, and make it happen to your benefit.”

Jill didn’t speak. She needed time to think about
it. For her whole life, this so-called skill had been the bane of
her existence. It was an affliction for her, not a blessing. It
made her fearful of driving because, hell, what if she had a spell
while she drove? She’d normally know it was coming and could pull
over in time, but that wasn’t the point. It made her nervous to
drive. It made her nervous being with a man. It made her scared of
so many things, and she had always wanted the spells to stop
inhibiting her life. Being normal always seemed so out of reach
that she couldn’t even fathom hoping for it. Being normal was all
she longed for. But, normal was the furthest thing she could be
because, damn, she was psychic. It was more than a little ESP. It
was worse than the hocus pocus stuff that was found in strip malls
or crystal balls or tarot cards. If any of these so-called
clairvoyants actually had any sort of real psychic ability, they
could control it by looking in their crystal balls or tarot cards.
For Jillian, it just came head-on and hit her like a ton of bricks
without warning.