When my mother calls, she always wants to know if I�m alone. �Is he right there?� she says, as if Big D hovers over my shoulder to keep me from telling her what�s really going on. This is the first question she's asked in every phone conversation for the past four years. If he�s at home she wants me to go in the other room so we can talk.

These days the next question is always �Are you two back together and you�re just afraid to tell me?�

No answer but a heavy sigh.

�What? You can tell me!�

�If I say no, you�re not going to believe it, so why should I bother?� Thirty seconds into the conversation and I�m already exhausted. She has no patience. She needs to know right now if I�m going to marry him or throw him out on the street, and if it�s the latter she wants it done yesterday.

She�ll call me a lot on the weekends, doing her best to dig out the truth. Suspicion is contagious and I begin to wonder what�s really behind all the prying. Surely she can�t be this interested in my relationship status. Is there some burning question she can�t bring herself to ask until she�s softened me up with accusations and put me on the defensive? We go back and forth, from friendly to accusatory, to see who will slip up first. I get bored and give up.

�I�m just starving, so I�d better go eat. I�ll call you later.�

My sister Alice called me this weekend to say that Mom had gone to see Rosemary. She�s been driving out to Mobile, Alabama for the past fourteen years to talk to her psychic advisor. Rosemary stayed at our house once when I was in junior high, doing readings from our living room for her local clients. It was the only time we met her, and she had all four of us sit on the sofa so she could give some vague details about our future. She said I would have four children, Alice would be a nurse, and Andrew would be a pilot.

Mom rarely tells us about Rosemary�s predictions. Partly because we tease her about it, and partly because she believes it spoils the prophecy if you warn someone. According to this logic, she will only tell us about potential dangers. About six years ago Rosemary predicted that my mother or one of her daughters would be raped in a parking lot on a Thursday night in February. I worked nights at the mall bookstore, so Mom was adamant that I have an escort to my car every night for the entire spring. She believes that is the only reason the prediction didn�t come to pass, but she also warns that Rosemary didn�t specify a year and we must be vigilant on Thursday nights every February.

Mom called me Sunday, and after the usual song and dance she mentioned her trip to Mobile. And this time she couldn�t keep the reading a secret, she was just too excited. �Rosemary says that you are going to meet someone! I asked if it was someone you already knew, but she said no. She said there is someone you know who has feelings for you, but you don�t feel the same way. But you are going to meet a guy and he is going to sweep you off your feet!�

I was filled with dread. Then I remembered Rosemary�s track record and relaxed.

This weekend I�m driving up to Pensacola to attend Jessica�s wedding with my Stepmom. Jessica, Stepmom and I worked together for a year at the five person firm that Stepmom now owns. The five us were close friends, but Jessica and I got a little closer than the others one night on the beach when she asked me to be her first lesbian experience. That didn�t go so well, the sex was clumsy and bad, she freaked out when I mentioned dating, and it took a while before we could comfortably speak again, but eventually it became one of those experiences that contribute to one�s maturity.

The wedding is Friday night, which leaves the rest of my weekend free to visit my family and very close friends.