Kenny's life had never been awash with girlfriends. Her late sister always had been her best friend, and a life obsessed with family, school, and work, not to mention her deep and dark secret, had not been terribly conducive to building life-long bonds.

That was why she enjoyed her time with Rhonda so much.

The two initially had bonded, at least in some small way, over of their shared bereavement, but until that very night had never actually spoken of it at any great length. To her surprise, Kenny found herself laughing, bordering on stitches, as Rhonda recounted an episode she had experienced several days before.

"... so," Rhonda continued, "I had that bottled up inside of me for ten years ... never told a soul ... and when it finally came out, it was so easy." Kenny's friend threw her hands heavenward in comic exasperation. "Worse, when I actually said it out loud, it was almost funny, I could barely keep from laughing."

Whether it was the beer or Rhonda's candor, Kenny suddenly felt great humor at her own situation, one which just scant months before had often been a source of near unbearable pain.

"So, the ...," began Kenny, searching for a word, "... angst just disappeared?"

"Oh, no ... jeez, God no," Rhonda said between a small nibble of pepperoni from the pizza they'd shared. "The hurt and the anger are still there, but suddenly it just ... didn't have me around the throat every time I thought of it."

Kenny leaned forward with a slight smile. "I have a moment like that."

Rhonda said nothing but matched her lean, adding an affectionate and conspiratorial smile.

"But it's more about my Gift, though," she continued. "Well, maybe some of both. My Gift kicked in when I was about ten. It wasn't something I ever was able to talk to my parents about. When I tried, well ... I never knew whether they actually believed me or not. By the time my sister was old enough to understand, I'd already locked the secret away. I never even had the courage to tell Kevin what I could do."

"I lived my life in constant dread of being found out," she chuckled. "I know it sounds completely irrational, but I've always been afraid that since I can see through things, that people can see me while I'm doing it. Every time I've ever used my Gift, even when I was locked alone in my own room, I've had a distinct sensation of vulnerability, like I was standing naked in public ... so I pretended it just didn't exist."

"And it didn't help I was always way, way stronger and faster than the other kids," she said, leaning back with a playful grin. "Boys have such fragile egos. I learned pretty quick to pretend there, too. All that crap ... it ... I always felt like an outsider, even sometimes with my own family."

"Anyway," she went on after a short swig of beer, "I lost my family, like, bing, bang, boom ... sister, mom, dad, husband all in three years. I guess I was so numb, it never really caught up to me until one day, about a month after Kevin died. I started crying and couldn't stop. I began spending my days, for hours at a time, sometimes all day, just standing there at their graves, lost in my own grief. It didn't matter, rain or shine. One day it started storming, and I just stood there ... all day. I never felt so alone."

Rhonda's smile slowly had begun to fade listening to her friend's sad tale, but Kenny gave her a knowing wink before continuing.

"At night," she said, "I found myself wandering the streets, not looking for anything in particular. I just .... Well, one evening, I was walking through Chelsea, near some bars, and this guy started catcalling me ...."

The two women looked at each other, and Rhonda abruptly joined her in a laugh.

"In New York of all places, right? ... Anyway, this big guy, sort of a hipster ... reeking like cheap bourbon, comes up to me screaming about, I don't know, 'yellow fever' or 'China love' or whatever the fuck, and he grabs my arm from behind. I'm sure he thought he was just being charming ... they all do ... but I did exactly what you did. I turned around and punched him as hard as I could."

She took another drink from her bottle, a look in her eye that was somewhere between triumph and shame.

"Except he went down like a ton of bricks," continued Kenny, excitedly, "... I mean, I thought I killed the guy. Oh, holy shit ... it scared me so much. I ran home and stayed there ... for months ... months. I was like a crazy old woman, never went out, never bathed, ignored the phone, mail in a huge pile under the slot. Looking back, I should have called 1-900-CATS and had them send a few dozen tabbies to complete the picture."

"Oh, honey, I'm going to start crying," Rhonda said.

"Not at all," Kenny replied, her smile still in place. "It was the best thing that ever happened to me. It got me out of the cemetery. And I spent a lot of my time surfing the net trying to learn more about who I was ... and, yes, there were some cat videos watched during that time, too."

"I found some online communities about people with Gifts, but most of it just sounded like bullshit. The very few I found that seemed to make sense, the ones where people sounded like they understood my experience, occasionally mentioned a guy in New York City. I listened and listened and listened, and one day I found myself in the park watching an ice-cream cart."

"I came every day for weeks and just ... watched, at a distance. Jesus, I felt like a stalker but couldn't bring myself to go any closer. Finally, I just couldn't take it anymore ... it was too insane ... too ridiculous. So, I decided I was going to leave and never come back. At that exact moment, someone sat down next to me, handed me a cup of chocolate ice cream, and said, 'I'm like you.'"

"Rhonda, I kid you not," said Kenny with a peaceful smile and the hint of a tear, "it was like a Hollywood moment, like this enormous ... mountain was lifted from my shoulders. I half expected some sort of rainbow and for little cartoon birds to start flittering around my head. I never felt so good in my life."

"It's good to know he's useful for something," said Rhonda with a twinkle.

"It's good to know I'm not alone and that I wasn't crazy all those years." Kenny finished her beer. "And it's good to get on with my life."

"Another?" enquired Rhonda.

"Oh, God, no. That's two for me."

"I still can't believe you've never seen a black and white film."

"What's it about, again?" asked Kenny as she moved over and dropped down on the couch.

"It's about a rich white couple who solve murders and drink ... a lot. You'll love it. I promise."