“I felt certain that what I had walked into on that expedition was hell,” Margot said. “You can probably sense them too, but sometimes at the edge of the room I still see them. Sometimes, I think they can manipulate the people around me.”

“Tell me more about that.” Ayanna could not figure out what to do here. She hoped if they walked through the house, there would be something. This was the other hard part. Most of the time, Ayanna accepted she was coming into these places and making a lot of money not to do what she had grown to love, communing with spirits, but to mostly act as a low-key, unaccredited therapist. Here was someone’s potential suppressed shame at having too much money and having to see the tangible proof of it. Here was someone’s anxiety at having worked so hard to get to this point in their life but not sure what was left to live for after working toward something for so long. Here was someone’s desire—despite all their self-absorption and all the cruel things they might have had to do along the way to get to this point—to have someone say, “You are a good person and you matter.”

Margot crossed her arms, one guarding her body, the other on her opposing shoulder. “This is silly, but when I was jogging, I swear to you that a bunch of kids called me a bitch.”

“How old?”

“Young, like six. They were walking with a teacher, and she didn’t even notice. All these little African American kids calling me a bitch.”

“That’s messed up, I’m sorry.” Kids yell stuff all the time. Yeah, maybe, Ayanna considered, a bunch of six-year-olds called Margot a bitch, but it was probably not as easy as they were possessed by malevolent spirits who wanted to cuss out all joggers. But it was also probably, Ayanna felt certain, just as likely that it was a white woman uncomfortable living in a community that was not all white, and letting her anxieties get away from her. She wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Ayanna wanted to be a person who could give almost anyone grace, but she was also so tired of being expected to only give the powerful and rich her empathy. Maybe she had kicked some mud by accident at the kids. Maybe the kids were being bad and quoting a song they had heard on the radio. Every popular song on the planet seemed to have lyrics about being a bad bitch who werks it; kids love radio and pushing boundaries.

Margot relaxed her posture at hearing Ayanna’s sympathy.

“And this is going to sound like a loaded question, but it’s something I ask all my clients before I begin.” Ayanna said the lie casually and was quietly impressed by herself. “What do you do to help other people? Especially in your community?”