house.
Elizabeth did not want to play. Plus, she was a grown-up, she gave me butterflies, and wouldn’t know fun if it hit her in the face, and believe me, I’d tried to throw it at her plenty
of times over the weekend. So you’d think I couldn’t possibly be the one to help her.
People refer to me as an invisible or an imaginary friend. Like there’s some big mystery surrounding me. I’ve read the books that grown-ups have written asking why kids see me, why they believe in me so much for so long and then suddenly stop and go back to being the way they were before. I’ve seen the television shows that try to debate why it is that children invent people like me.
So just for the record for all you people, I’m not invisible or imaginary. I’m always here walking around just like you all are. And people like Luke don’t choose to see me, they just see me. It’s people like you and Elizabeth that choose not to.
Chapter Six
Elizabeth was awakened at 6:08 a.m. by the sun streaming through the bedroom window and onto her face. She always slept with the curtains open. It stemmed from growing up in a cottage; lying in her bed she could see out the window, down the garden path, and out the front gate. Beyond that was a country road that led straight from the farm, stretching on for a mile. Elizabeth could see her mother returning from her adventures, walking down the road for at least twenty minutes before she reached the bungalow. She could recognize the half-hop, half-skip from miles away. Those twenty minutes always felt like an eternity to Elizabeth. The long road had its own way of building up Elizabeth’s excitement, it was almost teasing her.
And finally she would hear that familiar sound, the squeak of the front gate. The rusting hinges acted as a welcoming band for the free spirit. Elizabeth had a love/hate relationship with that gate. Like the long stretch of road, it would tease her, and some days on hearing the creak she would run to see who was at the door and her heart would sink at the sight of the postman.
Elizabeth had annoyed college roommates and lovers with her persistence in keeping the curtains open. She didn’t know why she remained firm on keeping them open; it certainly wasn’t as though she were still waiting. But now in her adulthood, the open curtains acted as her alarm clock; with them open she knew the light would never allow her to fall into a deep sleep.
Even in her sleep she felt alert and in control. She went to bed to rest, not to dream.
She squinted in the bright room and her head throbbed. She needed coffee, fast. Outside the window, the bird’s song echoed loudly in the quiet of the countryside. Somewhere far away, a cow answered its call. But despite the idyllic morning, there was nothing about this Monday that Elizabeth was looking forward to. She had to try to reschedule a meeting with the hotel developers, which was going to prove difficult because after the little stunt in the press about the new love nest at the top of the mountain, they had design companies Flying in from all parts of the world and looking for the job she knew should be hers. This annoyed Elizabeth; this was her territory. But that wasn’t her only problem.
Luke had been invited to spend the day with his grandfather on the farm. That bit, Elizabeth was happy with. It was the part about him expecting another six-year-old by the name of Ivan that worried her. She would have to have a discussion with Luke this morning about it because she dreaded to think of what would happen if there was a mention of an imaginary friend to her father.
Brendan was sixty-five years old, big, broad, silent, and brooding. Age had not managed to mellow him; instead it had brought bitterness, resentment, and even more confusion. He was small-minded and unwilling to open up or change. Elizabeth could at least try to understand his difficult nature if being that way made him happy, but as far as she could see,
Elizabeth did not want to play. Plus, she was a grown-up, she gave me butterflies, and wouldn’t know fun if it hit her in the face, and believe me, I’d tried to throw it at her plenty
of times over the weekend. So you’d think I couldn’t possibly be the one to help her.
People refer to me as an invisible or an imaginary friend. Like there’s some big mystery surrounding me. I’ve read the books that grown-ups have written asking why kids see me, why they believe in me so much for so long and then suddenly stop and go back to being the way they were before. I’ve seen the television shows that try to debate why it is that children invent people like me.
So just for the record for all you people, I’m not invisible or imaginary. I’m always here walking around just like you all are. And people like Luke don’t choose to see me, they just see me. It’s people like you and Elizabeth that choose not to.
Chapter Six
Elizabeth was awakened at 6:08 a.m. by the sun streaming through the bedroom window and onto her face. She always slept with the curtains open. It stemmed from growing up in a cottage; lying in her bed she could see out the window, down the garden path, and out the front gate. Beyond that was a country road that led straight from the farm, stretching on for a mile. Elizabeth could see her mother returning from her adventures, walking down the road for at least twenty minutes before she reached the bungalow. She could recognize the half-hop, half-skip from miles away. Those twenty minutes always felt like an eternity to Elizabeth. The long road had its own way of building up Elizabeth’s excitement, it was almost teasing her.
And finally she would hear that familiar sound, the squeak of the front gate. The rusting hinges acted as a welcoming band for the free spirit. Elizabeth had a love/hate relationship with that gate. Like the long stretch of road, it would tease her, and some days on hearing the creak she would run to see who was at the door and her heart would sink at the sight of the postman.
Elizabeth had annoyed college roommates and lovers with her persistence in keeping the curtains open. She didn’t know why she remained firm on keeping them open; it certainly wasn’t as though she were still waiting. But now in her adulthood, the open curtains acted as her alarm clock; with them open she knew the light would never allow her to fall into a deep sleep.
Even in her sleep she felt alert and in control. She went to bed to rest, not to dream.
She squinted in the bright room and her head throbbed. She needed coffee, fast. Outside the window, the bird’s song echoed loudly in the quiet of the countryside. Somewhere far away, a cow answered its call. But despite the idyllic morning, there was nothing about this Monday that Elizabeth was looking forward to. She had to try to reschedule a meeting with the hotel developers, which was going to prove difficult because after the little stunt in the press about the new love nest at the top of the mountain, they had design companies Flying in from all parts of the world and looking for the job she knew should be hers. This annoyed Elizabeth; this was her territory. But that wasn’t her only problem.
Luke had been invited to spend the day with his grandfather on the farm. That bit, Elizabeth was happy with. It was the part about him expecting another six-year-old by the name of Ivan that worried her. She would have to have a discussion with Luke this morning about it because she dreaded to think of what would happen if there was a mention of an imaginary friend to her father.
Brendan was sixty-five years old, big, broad, silent, and brooding. Age had not managed to mellow him; instead it had brought bitterness, resentment, and even more confusion. He was small-minded and unwilling to open up or change. Elizabeth could at least try to understand his difficult nature if being that way made him happy, but as far as she could see,
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