Cecelia Ahern - If You Could See Me Now

“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 knowingly. 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.

“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 explained, 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 trying 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 confusion. 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?

Chapter Thirteen

Elizabeth pushed herself forward gently on the swinging bench in her back garden. She cradled a warm coffee cup in her hands, wrapping her slender fingers around the limestone-colored mug. The sun was slowly setting and a slight chill was creeping out from hiding to take its place. She stared up into the sky, a perfect vision of candy-floss clouds; pink, red, and orange, like an oil painting. An amber glow rose from behind a mountain before her, like the kind of secret glow that rose from Luke’s bedcovers when he was reading with a torch. She breathed in the cooling air deeply.

Red sky at night , she heard a voice inside her head say.

“Shepherd’s delight,” she whispered softly.

A soft breeze blew, as if the air around her were sighing. She had been sitting outside now for the past hour. Luke was upstairs playing with his friend Sam after spending the day at his grandfather’s. She was awaiting the arrival of Sam’s father, whom she’d never met, to come and collect him. Edith usually dealt with the friends’ parents and so she wasn’t quite looking forward to chitchat about children.

It was nine forty-five p.m. and light, it seemed, was calling it a day. She had been rocking herself back and forth, fighting the tears that threatened to fall, swallowing the lump that threatened to rise in her throat, forcing back the thoughts that threatened to drown her mind. It felt as though she were fighting everything right now. She fought the people who invited themselves into her world without her permission; she fought Luke and his head full of childish ways, her sister and her problems, Poppy and her ideas at work, Joe and his coffee shop, competitors in her business. She felt she was always fighting, fighting, fighting. And now, here she sat, fighting her very own emotions.

She felt as if she’d been through a hundred rounds in the ring, as if she’d taken every punch, thump, and kick her opponents could throw at her. Now she was tired. Her muscles ached, her defense was falling, and her wounds weren’t healing so quickly. A cat leaped from the high wall that separated Elizabeth from her neighbors and landed in her garden. It glanced at Elizabeth, chin held high, eyes glowing in the darkness. It walked slowly across the grass, without a care in the world. So sure of itself, so confident, so full of its own self-importance. It jumped onto the opposite wall and disappeared into the night. She envied its ability to come and go as it pleased, without owing anybody anything, not even those closest who loved and cared for it.

Elizabeth used her foot to push herself back again. The swing squeaked slightly. In the distance, the mountain appeared to be burning as the sun slipped down and out of sight. On the other side, the full moon awaited its final call to center stage to take over the night shift. The crickets continued to chatter loudly to each other, the last of the children ran to their homes for the night. Car engines stopped, car doors slammed, front doors closed, windows shut, and curtains were drawn. And then there was silence and Elizabeth was once again alone, feeling like a visitor in her own back garden, which had taken on a new life in the falling darkness.

Her mind began to rewind over the events of the day. It stopped and played Saoirse’s visit. Played it over and over again, the volume rising on every repeat. They all leave eventually, isn’t that right, Lizzie? The sentence repeated itself like a broken record. It kept on at her like a finger prodding her chest. Harder and harder, first grazing the skin, then breaking it, prodding and prodding until eventually it tore right through and reached her heart. The place where it hurt most. The breeze blew and stung her open wound.

She shut her eyes tightly. For the second time that day, Elizabeth cried.

They all leave eventually, isn’t that right, Lizzie?

It played over and over again, waiting for an answer from her. Her mind exploded. YES! it shouted. Yes they all eventually leave. Every single one of them, every single time. Every person that ever succeeded in brightening her day and cheering her heart disappeared as quickly as the cat in the night. As though happiness were only supposed to be some kind of weekend treat, like ice cream. Her mother had done just as this evening’s sun had done: had left her, had taken away the light and warmth and replaced it with a chill and dark.