What The Psychic Saw (remix)

This is an painting from many years back.  I'm finally revealing the film-noir story behind it. Proceed at your own risk.

What the Psychic Saw

When I complained of the smoke, he put out his cigarette in a can he had fished from the trash.

We were sitting in a camper trailer that smelled of cats. He clutched a glass of amber colored drink against his chest.

“That’s what they say,” he murmured when I told him some fellow school teachers had told me he was psychic.

I ‘d been at loose ends lately and the Biology teacher, Janice, had insisted I see this guy.  “Get over the stench and the camper.  He’s not dangerous.  He’ll tell you what’s ahead.”   No phone number, no address…just instructions from Janice that took me and my Volkswagen up some sketchy mountain roads at dusk.

I sat up straight on his brown couch. He was too close.

“Who’s Betty?”  he asked abruptly.

“I-I-I-I don’t think I ever knew a Betty,” racking my brain.

“She came in with you,” he insisted. “She’s a strong presence.  Always there.”

Ughhh…This was a mistake. There is no Betty. Wish I’d keep the car running. 

He continued.   “You will take journeys, seek new landscapes.”  “You’ll marry.  A man named Tom.”  “He has a son.”  “You and a friend will commit a serious crime but won’t get caught.” “The crime will haunt you and you will imagine you see a man in a dark coat everywhere you go.”

He lit another cigarette. My signal that this was over.  I fled.

Years later, I remember the urgency to wash the clothes I was wearing.  I remember everything he said.

I remember that everything came true except for one thing.

I still don’t know who Betty is.