“No.” Jillian looked back at Skylar with what we call her You’re Dumb and I’m a Doctor face. “You don’t say puh-sychic, do you?” Suddenly she looked down at the big wet spot on her boob. “Shit. When did that happen?”

Moaning in agony even as I laughed, I bent my knees and cupped my crotch as Jillian knocked. “I’m going to wet myself. I’m totally puh-serious.”

Immediately the door opened and an acrid, smoky smell drifted into the hallway. The woman who’d opened the door looked nothing like what I’d imagined a psychic medium would look like—no purple turban or chunky gold jewelry or flouncy ruffled skirt. In fact, she looked more like an evening newscaster: blond helmet hair, too much makeup, horn-rimmed glasses. She was barefoot and wore jeans and a flowy black top.

“Velcome,” she said in a thick accent. At least she sounded like a medium. She looked at each of our faces as we tried to stop snickering and appear presentable, which wasn’t that easy since I was still holding my crotch, Jillian was trying to cover her left nipple, and Skylar hiccuped. “Hm. Three sisters.”

Skylar poked me in the back, as if she were impressed, but I thought we looked enough alike that anyone could tell we were related, even though Jillian was dark-haired and built more like our dad, tall and thin, while Skylar and I were blonde and curvy like our mom.

“I am Madam Psuka,” she said grandly, pronouncing the P. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Skylar poke Jillian in the shoulder. “Vould you like reading tonight?” Madam Psuka’s eyes narrowed. “I am getting verrrry strong energy from you.”

“Yes.” Skylar clapped her hands.

“Vonderful. Please to come in.” The woman stepped aside and we entered a small, dimly lit front room. I was about to ask vhere the bathroom vas when color and texture and warmth bombarded me. The walls were covered in tapestries, rugs, and blankets in every imaginable hue and pattern. The windows overlooking the street were covered in dozens of sheer jewel-toned scarves, several of which billowed in the early summer breeze. In front of them was a round table covered with a Moroccan print cloth with a chair on each side. The floor was covered by faded Persian rugs in tones of ruby and gold and coral, and large square pillows in royal blue, hot pink, lime green, and leopard print lined the walls. On every available surface not covered with books, and sometimes even on top of the books, candles glowed—most inside lanterns, but some in glass holders or simply set on a plate. From the ceiling hung swooping strands of beads and charms and other trinkets, criss crossing the room clothesline style, and in the two front corners were huge green plants. My eyeballs hurt.

“Wow,” said Skylar, turning in a slow circle. “This is amazing.”

“Thank you,” replied Madam Psuka, although the foreign way she pronounced the “th” sound made it sound more like tank you, which was highly appropriate tonight. She shut the door. “I am not here very long, but I try to make the space my own.”

“It’s beautiful,” Skylar gushed, then hiccuped. “I love all the colors and patterns together. Very bohemian.”

I made a face at Jillian and she wrinkled her nose. She and I had more understated taste than our fashionably trendy middle sister.

“What’s that smell?” Jillian asked.

“Is burning sage. I just finish smudging.” Madam Psuka sounded pleased with her puh-self.

“What’s smudging?”

“Is ancient practice used for clearing away negative energy and purifying a space. You are very lucky to be my first reading after is done.” She gestured toward the rug. “Please have seat.”

“Can I please use your bathroom?” I asked, fidgeting uncomfortably.

“Of course. Is right over there.” She pointed toward the small galley kitchen, and I found the bathroom right across from it. There was no door, just a curtain of beads, but at this point I didn’t care. After relieving myself of what seemed like fifty pints of pee for every ounce of vodka I’d consumed, I washed my hands and joined my sisters and Madam Psuka on the rug, where they were all sitting cross-legged in a circle like Story Time at the library.

“She’s going to do a short reading for each of us!” squealed Skylar.

“Normally I do only one reading per group for free,” explained Madam Psuka. “But the energy is so good tonight that I feel the spirits vant me to be generous.”

“Wait. Are there spirits here in this room?” Jillian asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Of course.” Madam Psuka gave my oldest sister a You’re Dumb and I’m a Medium look. “Spirits are always among us.”

A cool shivery feeling crept up my back, despite the warmth in the apartment from all the rugs and blankets and candles. Right away I shook it off. Get a hold of yourself. There’s no such thing as spirits or ghosts or even psychics. This is all just for fun.

“So who is first?” Madam Psuka looked from one sister to the next.

“Me,” said Jillian, scooting closer to the medium. “I’m the oldest, so I should go first.”

Skylar and I exchanged a look. How many times had we heard that before?

Madam Psuka nodded and took Jillian’s hand in both of hers. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and appeared to be concentrating very hard.

“Should I think about anything in particular?” Jillian asked, and my heart ached a little. I knew how badly she wanted to meet someone.

“Just relax. Let your mind wander naturally. Let energy of life flow through you.”

Jillian closed her eyes and the room went silent for a moment, the only sound the sizzle of the candlewicks and the medium’s breathing. Her nose made sort of a whistling noise, and I had to hide my face in my shoulder to keep from laughing.

Then she spoke. “Are you dirty?”

For a moment, I was on the verge of cracking up until I realized she meant thirty, but didn’t pronounce her th’s very well. Still, I had to hide my face in my shoulder to stifle the laugh.

“Yes.” Jillian sounded amazed. “I am thirty. And I was just thinking about my age.”

“And you are caretaker—no, something stronger. You are healer.”

Skylar gasped and my jaw fell open. Had we said anything about Jilly being a pediatrician? I didn’t think we had. Could this woman have guessed?

“You are strong, sympathetic, generous.” Madam Psuka spoke confidently, in amazingly good English considering it wasn’t her first language. “You are always willing to carry more than your fair share of the load. You are loyal and trustworthy. You are often critical of others, but very hard on yourself. You have tendency to be controlling, and sometimes you meddle, especially if you think you know best.” Madam Psuka paused and opened one eye. “Is this accurate?”

“Yes,” Skylar and I said together.

Jillian glared at us as the medium went on. “You value visdom and compassion above all.”

“Thank you,” said Jillian, fidgeting a little. “Is there anything else? Anything about my career? Or my love life?”

“I cannot direct the energy,” said Madam Psuka. “It reveals at its own vill.” She was quiet for a moment. “But I do see children. Many children.”

“Many?” Jillian said, her eyes going wide. “How many?”

“Hundreds.”

Skylar laughed. “It’s probably your patients, Jilly Bean.”

“Oh.” Jillian’s shoulders slumped, and she took her hand back. “Right.”

I felt sorry for her and reached over to pat her shoulder when she scooted back to sit next to me. We hadn’t really talked about it, but maybe Skylar’s wedding was kind of hard on Jillian. She was the oldest and the most traditional, and probably thought she’d be first to get married. She’d definitely talked about it the most as we were growing up. And now Dan and I would be next, and—

“Next?” asked Madam Psuka, jarring me a little. She was looking at me, too. It was as if she’d heard was I was thinking and was mocking me with the word.