Home Random Page


CATEGORIES:

BiologyChemistryConstructionCultureEcologyEconomyElectronicsFinanceGeographyHistoryInformaticsLawMathematicsMechanicsMedicineOtherPedagogyPhilosophyPhysicsPolicyPsychologySociologySportTourism






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 93

C e c e l i a A h e r n

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 situa-

tions 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 Imaginary Friends 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 I f Yo u C o u l d S e e M e N o w

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 to-

day 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.

“Thank you, Opal.” Calendula’s cheeks turned rosy. “I’m going to a

tea party after this meeting with my new best friend.”

“Oh.” Opal raised her eyebrows, impressed. “Very nice. Where is it?”

“In the back garden. She got a new tea set for her birthday yesterday,”

she replied.

“Well, that’s lovely. How are things with little Maeve?”

“Well, thank you.” Calendula looked down into her lap.

The noise from the others in the room died down and all the focus was

on Opal and Calendula. Opal wasn’t the type of person to ask everyone to be quiet in order to start the meeting. She always began it quietly herself, knowing that that the others would soon finish their conversations and settle down in their own time. She always said that all people needed was time and then they could figure most things out for themselves.

C e c e l i a A h e r n

Opal was still watching Calendula fidgeting with a ribbon on her dress.

“Is Maeve still bossing you around, Calendula?”

Calendula nodded and looked sad. “She’s still telling me what to do all the time and when she breaks things and her parents get mad, she blames it on me.”

Olivia, an old-looking best friend who was rocking in her chair while

knitting, tutted loudly.

“You know why Maeve is doing that don’t you, Calendula?” Opal said

softly.

Calendula nodded. “I know that me being around provides her with

the opportunity to be in charge and she is mirroring the behavior of her parents. I understand why she is doing it and the importance of her doing it, but that kind of treatment day in, day out becomes a little disheartening at times.”

Everybody nodded in agreement; we had all been in her shoes at some

stage. Most young children liked to boss us around, as it was their only chance to do it without getting into trouble.

“Well, you know she won’t be doing it for very much longer, Calendula,”

Opal said encouragingly and when Calendula nodded, her curls bounced up and down. “Bobby.” Opal turned to face a little boy sitting on a skateboard with his cap turned backward. He had been rolling back and forth while listening to the conversation. On hearing his name, he stopped rolling.

“You must stop playing computer games with little Anthony. You know

why, don’t you?”

The little boy with the face of an angel nodded and when he spoke, his

voice sounded much older than his apparent six years. “Well, because Anthony is only three, he needs to play with toys that allow him to take control, that are flexible, and that do more than one thing. Too many of the other toys will stunt his early development.”

“What kind of things do you think you should be playing with?” Opal

asked.

“Well, I’m going to concentrate on playing with, well, nothing actually, so we can do role-playing, or else use boxes, cooking utensils, or empty toilet-paper rolls.”

I f Yo u C o u l d S e e M e N o w

We all laughed at the last one. Toilet-paper rolls are my absolute fa-

vorite, you can do so many things with them.

“Very good, Bobby, just try to keep it in mind when Anthony tries to

get you to play on the computer again. Like Tommy does.” She trailed off, looking around. “Actually, where is Tommy?”

“Sorry I’m late,” a loud voice called from the door. Tommy charged in

with his shoulders back and arms swinging, like a man fifty years older than he. There was muck all over his face, grass stains all down his knees and shins, cuts, scabs, and mud on his elbows. He dived onto his beanbag, making a crashing noise with his mouth.

Opal laughed. “Welcome, Tommy. Busy, were you?”

“Yeah,” Tommy replied cockily. “Me and Johnno were down in the

park digging up grubs.” He wiped his snotty nose across his bare arm.

“Uugh.” Calendula wrinkled her nose in disgust and moved her chair

closer to Ivan.

“All right, princess.” Tommy winked over at Calendula, resting his feet on the table in front him. It had been laid out with fizzy drinks and chocolate biscuits.

Calendula looked away from him with wide eyes and concentrated

on Opal.

“So, John is the same as usual,” Opal stated with amusement.

“Yep, still sees me,” he replied, as though that were some kind of vic-

tory. “He’s got a problem with bullies at the moment, Opal, and as he’s been intimidated into secrecy, he won’t tell his parents.” He shook his head sadly. “He’s afraid they’ll criticize him or intervene, which will make it worse, and he’s also ashamed that he allowed it to happen. All the typical emotions that go with bullying.” He popped a sweet into his mouth.

“So, what are you doing about it?” Opal asked with concern.

“Unfortunately, what was happening before I came along is that John

was experiencing chronic intimidation, he developed a pattern of compli-ance with the unfair demands of those he perceived as stronger, and he was beginning to identify with the bully and become one himself. But I wouldn’t let him push me around,” Tommy said toughly. “We’ve been working on his posture, voice, and eye contact, as you know these communicate a lot about 98

C e c e l i a A h e r n

whether you’re vulnerable. I’m teaching him to be vigilant for suspicious in-dividuals and every day we run over a list of possible attributes.” He sat back and rested his arms behind his head. “We’re working on him developing a mature sense of justice.”

“And you’ve been digging for grubs,” Opal added with a smile.

“There’s always time for grub-digging, isn’t there, Ivan?” Tommy

winked.

“Jamie-Lynn.” Opal turned to a little girl in denim dungarees and dirty runners. Her hair was cut short and she balanced her behind on a football.

“How’s little Samantha getting along? I hope you’re both not still digging up her mother’s flower garden.”

Jamie-Lynn was a tomboy and kept getting her friends into trouble,

whereas Calendula mostly went to tea parties in pretty dresses and played with Barbie and My Little Pony. Jamie-Lynn opened her mouth and began

blabbering away in a mystery language.

Opal raised her eyebrows. “So I see you and Samantha are still speak-

ing your own language.”

Jamie-Lynn nodded.

“OK, but be careful. It’s not a good idea to keep speaking like that for much longer.”

“Don’t worry, I know Samantha is learning to talk in sentences and de-

velop her memory, so I won’t keep it up,” Jamie-Lynn said, returning to normal language. Her voice saddened. “Samantha didn’t see me this morning when she woke up. But then she did again at lunchtime today.”

Everyone felt sad for Jamie-Lynn and gave her our condolences be-

cause we all knew how that felt. It was the beginning of the end.

“Olivia, how’s Mrs. Cromwell?” Opal’s voice was gentler.

Olivia stopped knitting and rocking and shook her head sadly. “Not

long for her to go now. We had a great chat last night about a day trip she had with her family seventy years ago to Sandymount beach. That put her in a great mood. But as soon as she told her family this morning that she’d been talking to me about it, they all left. They think she’s talking about her great-aunt Olivia that died forty years ago and are convinced she’s going mad. Anyway, I’ll stay with her till the end. Like I said, there isn’t long for I f Yo u C o u l d S e e M e N o w

her to go and the family have only visited twice in the past month. She’s not hanging on for anyone.”

Olivia always made friends in hospitals, hospices, and homes for the elderly. She was good at that kind of thing, helping people reminisce till the early hours of the morning. Like children, the elderly had the ability to believe and hope, especially when they were really sick and weren’t going to be with us much longer. I suppose it’s times like that people take the time to really think about life, what they were here for and all its possibilities. They drop their defenses and allow themselves to open up to the new experiences of what’s happening to them and their bodies. It was the people in the in-between ages (usually like Elizabeth) that had the blinders on.

“Thanks, Olivia.” Opal smiled and then she turned to me. “So, Ivan,

how’s it all going in Fuchsia Lane? What’s the big emergency? Little Luke seems to be doing OK.”

I made myself comfortable on the beanbag. “Yeah, he is OK. There are

a few things we need to work on, like how he feels about his family setup, but nothing earth-shattering.”

“Good.” Opal looked pleased.

“But that’s not what the problem is.” I looked around the circle at

everyone. “His aunt, who adopted him, is thirty- four and sometimes she can feel my presence.”

Everyone gasped and looked around at one another in horror. I knew

they’d react like that.

“But that’s not even the half of it,” I continued, trying not to enjoy the drama too much because after all it was my problem. “Luke’s mom, who’s twenty- two, came into Elizabeth’s office today and saw me and spoke to me!”

Double gasp. Apart from Opal, whose eyes twinkled back at me know-

ingly. I felt better when I saw that, because I knew that Opal would know what to do. She always did and I wouldn’t have to feel so confused anymore.

“Where was Luke when you were in Elizabeth’s office?” Opal asked, a

smile forming at the corners of her lips.

“On his granddad’s farm,” I explained. “Elizabeth wouldn’t let me out

of the car to go with him because she was afraid her dad would get mad that Luke had a friend that he couldn’t see.” I was out of breath after that.

C e c e l i a A h e r n

“So why didn’t you walk back to Luke when you got to the office?”

Tommy asked, sprawled across the beanbag with his arms behind his head.

Opal’s eyes glinted again. What was up with her?

“Because,” I replied.

“Because why?” Calendula asked.

Not her too, I thought.

“How far is the farm from the office?” Bobby asked.

Why were they asking all these questions? Shouldn’t the important

thing be why on earth all these people were sensing me?

“It’s about a two-minute drive, but twenty minutes walking,” I ex-

plained, confused. “What’s with all the questions?”

“Ivan,” Olivia said, laughing, “don’t act the fool. You know that when

you get separated from a friend, you find them. A twenty-minute walk is nothing compared to what you did to get to that last friend of yours.” She chuckled.

“Ah, come on, everyone.” I threw my hands up helplessly. “I was try-

ing to figure out whether Elizabeth could see me or not. I was confused, you know. This has never happened before.”

“Don’t worry, Ivan.” Opal smiled and when she spoke her voice was

like honey. “Remember, there are no rules to being a best friend. Anyone who really needs us can see us. This is rare, but it’s happened before.”

Everyone gasped again.

Opal stood up, gathered her files together, and prepared to leave the

meeting.

“Where are you going?” I asked in surprise. “You haven’t told me what

to do yet.”

Opal took off her purple-tinted shades and her chocolate-brown eyes

gazed at me. “This is not an emergency at all, Ivan. There is no advice that I can give you, you will just have to trust yourself that when the time comes, you’ll make the right decision.”

“What decision? About what?” I asked, feeling even more confused now.

Opal grinned at me. “When the time comes, you will know. Good

luck.” And with that she left the meeting with everyone staring at me in con-I f Yo u C o u l d S e e M e N o w

fusion. The blank faces were enough to prevent me from asking any of them for advice.

“Sorry, Ivan, I would be just as confused as you are,” Calendula said,

standing up and smoothing out the wrinkles in her summer dress. She gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I’d better go now too, or I’ll be late.”

I watched her skipping toward the door, her blond curls bouncing with

every step. “Enjoy your tea party!” I called.

“Make the right decision,” I grumbled to myself, thinking about what

Opal had said. “The right decision about what?” And then a chilling

thought occurred to me. What if I didn’t make the right decision? Would someone get hurt?


Date: 2015-04-20; view: 432


<== previous page | next page ==>
Chapter Eleven | Chapter Thirteen
doclecture.net - lectures - 2014-2024 year. Copyright infringement or personal data (0.013 sec.)