If You Could See Me Now (14 page)

The hissing of the water
overflowing from the pot onto the cooker’s surface brought Elizabeth sharply back to the present. She raced across the kitchen to lift the pot off the hob and lowered the heat. She poked at the steamed chicken and vegetables, wondering where her head was today.

“Luke, dinner,” Elizabeth called.

She had collected Luke from her father’s after work, although she had been in absolutely no mood to drive down that road after sobbing in her office. She hadn’t cried in years. She didn’t know what was happening to her over the last few days, her mind just kept drifting and she never drifted. She always had such stable, controlled thoughts. Nothing at all like her behavior today at the office.

Luke shuffled into the kitchen already dressed in his Spider-Man pajamas. He stared sadly at the table. “You didn’t set a place for Ivan again.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself in time, remembering the advice the Web sites had given. “Oh, didn’t I?”

Luke looked at her in surprise.

“Sorry, Ivan,” she said, taking out a third plate.
What a waste of food,
she thought, spooning broccoli, cauliflower, and potatoes onto his plate. “I’m sure he doesn’t like chicken, so this will have to do.” She placed the plate of leftover vegetables down opposite her.

Luke shook his head. “No, he said he really does like chicken.”

“Let me guess,” Elizabeth said, cutting a corner off her own, “chicken’s his favorite.”

Luke smiled. “He says it’s his favorite kind of
poultry
.”

“Right.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. She watched Ivan’s plate, wondering how on earth Luke was going to manage to eat a second plate of vegetables. It was difficult enough trying to get him to eat his own vegetables.

“Ivan said he had fun in your office today,” Luke said, forking broccoli into his mouth, chewing quickly and making a face in disgust. He swallowed quickly and gulped back some milk.

“Did he?” Elizabeth smiled. “What was so fun about my office?”

“He liked the chair-spinning,” he replied as he speared a baby potato.

Elizabeth stopped chewing and stared at Luke. “What do you mean?”

Luke popped the potato into his mouth and munched. “He says spinning around in Poppy’s chair is his favorite.”

Elizabeth for once ignored the fact that he was speaking with his mouth full. “Did you speak to Poppy today?” Luke loved Poppy and sometimes called to chat to her when Edith called the office to check a detail with Elizabeth. He knew Elizabeth’s office number by heart—she had insisted he learn it as soon as he learned his numbers—so it was quite possible he might have called, missing his little chats with her while Edith was away.
That must have been it,
she thought, relieved.

“Nope.”

“Did you speak to Becca?”

“Nope.”

The chicken suddenly tasted like cardboard in her mouth. She swallowed it quickly and put down her knife and fork. She watched Luke eat, lost in thought. Ivan’s plate went untouched, unsurprisingly. “Did you speak to Saoirse today?” She studied his face. She wondered if Saoirse’s little role-play in her office earlier had anything to do with Luke’s new obsession with Ivan. Knowing Saoirse, she would have continued to taunt her, had she found out about an invisible friend.

“Nope.”

Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Perhaps Luke was just guessing about the chair-spinning. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Where had all her certainties suddenly gone?

“Don’t play with your vegetables, Luke. Ivan told me to tell you that they are good for you.” She might as well use the Ivan situation to her advantage.

Luke started laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Ivan says that all mums use him to make their kids eat vegetables.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Well, you can tell Ivan that’s because mums know best.” Her smile faded; well
some
mums at least.

“Tell him yourself.” Luke giggled.

“Right, then.” Elizabeth faced the empty chair ahead of her. “Where do you come from, Ivan?” She leaned forward and spoke as if addressing a child.

Luke started laughing at her and she felt silly. “He’s from Ekam Eveileb.”

It was Elizabeth’s turn to laugh. “Oh, really? And where’s that?”

“Far, far away,” Luke said.

“How far? Like Donegal-far?” She smiled.

Luke shrugged, already bored with the conversation.

“Hey.” Elizabeth looked at Luke and laughed. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Take a potato from Ivan’s plate?”

“I didn’t.” Luke frowned. “Ivan ate it.”

“Don’t be sil—” She stopped herself.

Later that evening, Luke lay on the
floor
of the living room humming
that
song while Elizabeth drank a cup of coffee and stared at the television. It was a long time since they had done that. Usually they went their own separate ways after dinner. Usually they didn’t talk so much during the meal either, but then
usually
Elizabeth didn’t humor Luke by playing silly games. She began to regret what she had done. She watched Luke coloring with his crayons on the
floor. She had put down a mat so that he wouldn’t dirty the carpet and although she hated when he played with his toys outside the playroom, she was glad that he was playing with some toys that she could at least see. Every cloud and all that. She turned her attention back to her house makeover show.

“Elizabeth.” She felt the tap of a little
finger on her shoulder.

“Yes, Luke.”

“Drew this for you.” He handed her a brightly colored picture. “It’s of me and Ivan playing in the garden.”

Elizabeth smiled and studied the drawing. Luke had written their names over two matchstick-like men, but what came to her as a surprise was the height of Ivan. He was over twice the size of Luke and was dressed in a blue T-shirt, blue jeans, and blue shoes, and had black hair and great big blue eyes. What looked like black stubble lined his jaw and he held hands with Luke with a big smile on his face. She froze, not quite knowing what to say. Shouldn’t his imaginary friend be the same age as he was?

“Eh, Ivan is very tall for only being six, isn’t he?” Maybe he had drawn him larger than life because he was so important to him, she reasoned.

Luke rolled around the
floor
giggling. “Ivan always says there’s nothing
only
about being six and anyway
he’s
not six.” He laughed loudly again. “He’s old like you!”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in horror.
Old like her?
What kind of imaginary friend had her nephew created?

Chapter Twelve

I found it easy to understand
Elizabeth’s upset over Luke’s drawing, but that doesn’t mean I agreed with it. Friends come in all different shapes and sizes, we all know that, so why should “imaginary” friends be any different? Elizabeth had it all wrong. In fact, Elizabeth had it
completely
wrong because as far as I could see she didn’t have
any
friends. Maybe it was because she was only looking for thirty-four-year-old women that looked, dressed, and acted like she did. You could tell by the look on her face, that’s what she thought Luke should have done when she looked at Luke’s picture of me and him. And that’s no way to make friends.

The important thing is not what we
look
like, but the role we play in our best friend’s life. Friends choose certain friends because that’s the kind of company they are looking for at that specific
time, not because they’re the correct height, age, or have the right hair color. I don’t see any other “real” older males interacting with Luke in his life, do you? Maybe I’m exactly what he needs right now. It’s not always the case, but often there’s a reason why, for example, Luke will see me and not my colleague Tommy, who looks six years old and constantly has a runny nose.

Just because you see one “imaginary” friend, it doesn’t mean you see them all. You have the
ability
to see them all, but as humans only use
10
percent of the brain, you wouldn’t believe the other abilities there are. There are so many other wonderful things that eyes could see if they really focused. Life’s kind of like a painting. A really bizarre, abstract painting. You could look at it and think that all it is, is just a blur. And you could continue living your life thinking that all it is, is a blur. But if you really look at it, really see it, focus on it, and use your imagination, life can become so much more. That painting could be of the sea, the sky, people, buildings, a butterfly
on a
flower, or
anything
except the blur you were once convinced it was.

After the events in Elizabeth’s office, I needed to call an emergency “What IF” meeting. I’ve been in this job for years and I thought I’d seen it all, but I obviously hadn’t. Saoirse seeing me and talking to me had really stumped me. I mean, that’s completely unheard of. OK, so Luke could see me, that was normal. Elizabeth had some sort of a sense of me, which was weird enough, but I was beginning to get used to it. But Saoirse seeing me? Of course, it’s common to be seen by more than one person on a job, but never by an
adult,
and never by
two
adults. The only friend in the company who dealt with adults was Olivia, and it wasn’t any kind of a rule, just what seemed to be happening all the time. I was confused, I can tell you that, so I got “the boss” to round up all the usual suspects.

Our “What IF” meetings were set up to discuss everyone’s current situations and to knock around some ideas and suggestions for people who are slightly stuck. I’ve never had to call one on my behalf, so I could tell the boss was shocked when I did. The name of the meeting has a double meaning. We were all tired of being labeled “imaginary friends,” so we decided to call the meeting the What
I
maginary
F
riends meeting. I made that up myself.

The six people that meet are the most senior people in the company. I arrived at the What IF room to the sound of everyone laughing and playing. I greeted them all and we sat around and waited for the boss. We don’t meet around long conference tables with smelly leather chairs in a boardroom with no windows. We have a more relaxed approach to it and it really has a much more positive effect, because the more comfortable we all feel, the more we can contribute. We all sit around in a circle on more comfortable seats. Mine’s a beanbag. Olivia’s is a rocking chair. She says it’s easier for her to do her knitting that way.

The boss’s not really bossy, we just call her that. She’s really one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet in your whole entire life. Now, she’s
really
seen it all, she knows everything there is to know about being a best friend. She’s patient and caring, listens and hears what people don’t say more than anyone I know. Opal is her name and she’s beautiful. She
floated into the room just then in a purple robe, her dreadlocks tied back in a half ponytail away from her face, with the ends hanging down past her shoulders. She had tiny sparkling beads throughout her dreadlocks, which glistened when she moved. She had daisies nestled into her dreadlocks like a tiara, a daisy chain around her neck, and around her wrists. Round purple-tinted glasses sat on her nose and when she smiled, the beam was enough to guide ships into shore on a black night.

“Nice daisies, Opal,” Calendula said softly from beside me.

“Thank you, Calendula.” She smiled. “Little Tara and I made them today in her garden. You’re looking very nice today, what a lovely color.”

Calendula beamed. She’s been a best friend for absolute donkey’s years, like me, but she only looks the same age as Luke. She is small, with blond hair that was today styled into bouncing curls, and is softspoken, with big blue eyes. She was dressed in a yellow summer dress with matching yellow ribbons in her hair. She had gleaming new white shoes that swung from her hand-crafted wooden chair. The chair always reminded me of a Hansel and Gretel chair, yellow with painted hearts and candy sticks.