Cecelia Ahern - If You Could See Me Now

She turned on her computer and sipped at her coffee while it loaded. Then she went to Google, typed in the words “imaginary friend,” and hit search. Hundreds of sites came up on her screen. Thirty minutes later she felt much better about the Ivan situation.

To her surprise, she learned that imaginary friends were very common and not a problem as long as they didn’t interfere with normal life. She was relieved to learn that imaginary friends were a sign of creativity and not a sign of loneliness or stress. Although the very fact of having an imaginary friend was a direct interference with normal life, it didn’t seem to be an issue with the online doctors. Site after site told her to ask Luke what Ivan was thinking and doing, as it would be a positive way of giving Elizabeth an understanding into what Luke was thinking. They encouraged Elizabeth to actually set a place for their phantom dinner guest and that there was no need to point out that Luke’s “friend” existed only in his imagination.

But even so, this was going to be difficult for Elizabeth to accept. It went against everything she believed. Her world and the land of make-believe existed on two very different planes and she found it impossible to playact. She couldn’t make baby noises to an infant, she couldn’t pretend to hide behind her hands or give life or a voice to a teddy, she couldn’t even role-play at college. She had grown up knowing not to do that, not to sound like her mother for fear of her father getting mad. It was instilled in her from an early age, but now the experts were telling her to change all that.

She finished the rest of her cold coffee and read the final line on the screen. Imaginary friends disappear within three months, whether or not you encourage them.

After three months she would be more than glad to see the back of Ivan and return to normal life again. She flicked through her calendar and circled August with a red marker. If Ivan wasn’t out of her house by then, she’d open the door and show him the way herself.

Chapter Eight

Ivan spun around in the black leather chair at the reception desk outside Elizabeth’s office. He could hear her in the other room on the phone, organizing a meeting using her boring grown-up voice again. But as soon as she hung up the phone, he heard her humming his song again. He laughed to himself; it definitely was addictive, once you got the tune in your head there was very little you could do to stop.

He twirled himself ’round in the chair faster and faster, doing pirouettes on wheels, until his stomach danced and his head began to throb. He decided that chair-spinning was his absolute favorite. Ivan knew that Luke would have loved to play the spin-the-chair game, and on picturing his sad little face pressed up against the car window from earlier that morning, his mind drifted and the chair slowed. Ivan wanted so much to visit the farm and Luke’s granddad looked like he could do with a bit of fun. He was similar to Elizabeth in that way. Two boring old gnirobs.

Anyway, at least this separation gave Ivan time to monitor Elizabeth so he could write a report on her. He had a meeting in a few days and would have to give a presentation to the rest of the team about who he was working with at the moment. Gut instincts had led him to decide to stay with Elizabeth in her office instead of making his way back to Luke, which was the usual routine of best friends. A few more days with Elizabeth to prove that she couldn’t see him would be enough and then he could get back to concentrating on Luke.

Maybe there was something he was missing with him, despite his years of experience.

As Ivan’s head began to get dizzy, he put his foot down on the floor to stop. He decided to leap from the whirling chair so he could pretend he was jumping from a moving car. He rolled dramatically across the floor just like they did in the movies and looked up from where he was lying in a ball to see a teenage girl standing before him openmouthed, watching her office chair spin out of control.

Ivan saw her look around the office to see if anyone else was present. She frowned, approached the desk as if she were navigating around landmines, and placed her bag on the desk ever so quietly as if afraid to disturb the chair. She looked around to see if anyone was watching and then tiptoed over to study it. She held out her hands as though trying to tame a wild horse.

Ivan chuckled.

Seeing that nothing was wrong, Becca scratched her head in wonder. Perhaps Elizabeth had been sitting in the chair before she came in. She smirked at the thought of Elizabeth swinging around like a child, hair tied back tightly, dressed in one of her sharp black suits, with her sensible shoes dangling in the air. No, the picture didn’t fit. In Elizabeth’s world, chairs were made to be sat on. So that’s exactly what Becca did and got to work immediately.

“Good morning, everyone,” a high-pitched voice sang from the door later that morning. A plum-haired Poppy danced into the room dressed in denim flares with embroidered flowers, platform shoes, and a tie-dyed T-shirt. As usual, every inch of her body was splashed with paint. “Everyone have a nice weekend?” She was always singing her sentences and dancing around the room, flinging her arms around with all the gracefulness of an elephant.

Becca nodded.

“Great.” She stood in front of Becca with her hands on her hips. “What did you do, Becca, join a debating team? Go out on a date and talk the ear off some bloke? Huh?”

Becca turned the page of the book she was reading and ignored her.

“Wow, that’s fabulous, sounds like a blast. You know I really do love the banter we have in this office.”

Becca turned a page.

“Oh, really? Well that’s enough information for now if you don’t mind— What the . . . ?” She whipped her body away from Becca’s desk and was silent.

Becca didn’t look up from the book she was reading. “It’s been doing that all morning,” she said in a quiet, bored tone. “Mine was too, but it stopped.”

This time it was Poppy’s turn to remain quiet.

There was silence in the office for a few minutes while Becca read her book and Poppy stared at the sight ahead of her. In her office, Elizabeth heard the long silence between the two and stuck her head out of her doorway.

“Everything all right, girls?” Elizabeth asked, looking around.

A mystery squeaking sound was all that replied.

“Poppy?”

She didn’t move her head as she spoke. “The chair.”

Elizabeth stepped out of her office. She turned her head in the same direction. The paint-splattered chair behind Poppy’s desk that Elizabeth had been trying to convince Poppy to get rid of for months was Flying around and around all by itself, the screws squeaking loudly. Poppy let out a nervous laugh. They both moved closer to examine it. Becca was still reading her book in silence as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“Becca.” Elizabeth half laughed. “Have you seen this?”

Becca still didn’t lift her eyes from the page. “It’s been doing that for the past hour,” she said softly. “It just stops and starts all the time.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Is it some sort of new artistic creation of yours, Poppy?”

“I wish it was,” Poppy replied, still in awe.

They all watched it spin in silence. Squeak, squeak, squeak.

“Maybe I should call Harry, it’s probably something to do with the screws,” Elizabeth reasoned.

Poppy raised her eyebrows uncertainly. “Yeah, I’m sure the screws are making it spin out of control,” she said sarcastically, gazing in wonder at the whirling multicolored chair.