Short Story: The Clairvoyant

A young woman sees the future through physical touch.

~

“What do you see?”

My friends think I can do it on command, but really I’ve seen it all already. To make them happy, I hold their hands, roll my eyes back a little for dramatic emphasis, and recall my memories of the future. I’m doing it right now.

“Well?”

A bed. It’s narrow, too narrow even for a single. A white room with washed-out blue curtains and the steady beeping of a monitor. I remember seeing it all flash behind my eyes the first time Maddie grabbed my arm at a party a few years ago, but of course I said nothing back then. There’s people crowded around the bed; a man in his fifties with flecks of grey peppering his dark hair, and a couple of children. There are no tears, but I get the sense they have all been cried out already. In the bed, a woman with an oxygen mask. Her body is skeletal and her head bald from the chemotherapy. 

“Cass, what do you see?”

I open my eyes. Maddie stares expectantly, smiling, my hands still clasping hers. The echo of her future self stings now just as much as it did the first time I saw it. 

“Looks like you and Tom will be together a while,” I say. “Two kids, maybe more.” She giggles, delighted. I pull my hands away.

I wasn’t always a liar. When my visions first began, I told people the truth. I guess I held out some vain hope that by knowing what lay ahead for them, they might be able to avoid it, or at least have time to prepare. That’s not how this curse works, though. At first, of course, no-one believed me when I said I had felt some energy pass between us at our first touch and their futures had unfurled in my head, but then time passed and they happened. My grandmother’s heart attack; my cousin’s car crash; even my sister’s cheating teenage boyfriend. I told each of them fully, and felt my heart break over and over as I watched their faces fall, and then I felt it break tenfold when my prophecies came to pass. Eventually I realised lying was the better option, if I tell them anything at all. These days I don’t divulge my curse to people unless I have to. I’d rather carry the burden of their futures alone to save them from sharing my misery. 

Alex is different. Usually, a fleeting touch is all that’s required to grant a vision: I know the futures of so many strangers, from people who have bumped me in the street to shop workers handing me receipts. But with him, I knew from the moment our fingers brushed that something was off. I saw nothing. My mind was gloriously blank. I remember staring at him with eyes so wide he began to blush and asked me, “Do I have something on my face?”

Perhaps that’s what drew me to him. That or his thick, messy brown hair, or the way he towered over me with long, muscular limbs, or that adorably crooked smile. Alex doesn’t know about my curse, and I don’t know his future. It feels so good.

“We should probably get up soon,” he says, and I grumble incoherently in response, nestling further into his chest. His body is like an electric blanket, arms and legs wrapped around me and radiating heat. “Cass, it’s past 12.”


“Five more minutes,” I moan, and I feel his chest rise and fall with soft, husky chuckles. He tightens his grip around me and kisses my forehead, breathing deeply with his nose buried in my hair. My whole body melts into his, and I am so happy here, hiding from my curse. The room is semi-dark, lit only by the sunlight behind the curtains, making them almost appear to glow. There’s no music, no conversation: just me and him, our warm tangled bodies and slow breath. I feel one of his hands snake up my back and move carefully along my cheeks, cupping my face and lifting it. Our noses touch as I open my eyes and see his looking back at me. His breathing picks up a little, and I look at him with slight confusion.

“Cass,” he says, and for some reason my heart leaps with sudden nerves, as if my body itself is having visions of the words he’s about to say. “I love you.” 

That’s when it happens, and Alex’s face falls away as the future explodes behind my eyes.

A bathroom. It’s cold and porcelain and empty save for a figure huddled on the floor, knees to her chest, hair unwashed and masking a face hidden from view. The whole room feels wrong, as if the walls are bulging inwards and there’s no air. There’s no sound except the noises coming from her, and I can see her heaving with them, as if each one is agonisingly painful. She’s sobbing; it almost sounds like screaming. She raises her head slowly, like the effort is breaking her, and I see that it is me. 

My eyes refocus and Alex is looking at me with a soft smile, still cupping my face, oblivious. I can’t help but stare at him. The vision wasn’t of his future, but of mine - a time creeping towards us where he won’t want to caress my cheeks with his fingertips anymore, or lie in bed past midday just to hold each other, or tell me he loves me. I don’t know how far away it is, but I do know it can’t be changed. No-one I’ve ever tried to help, when I was young and naive, has avoided the fate of my visions. I stare into his eyes, hungrily now, wanting to freeze this moment or escape to a few seconds ago when I hadn’t been cursed with the knowledge of my heartbreak. Even with that knowledge causing my eyes to burn, I’m still filled with so much feeling. Even now, all I want is to nestle closer to him. If I got up and walked away right now, perhaps I’d stand a chance at changing my future; I gaze at him again, feeling his hair in my hands and his stubble brushing against my face as he pulls me in closer, and I know I’m not strong enough. I curse my visions, and myself.

“I love you too.”