by Sarah Riad
‘Yes, sweetie,’ Cait kept her eyes and brush on the painting.
‘If you can’t see AB then how do you know what she looks like?’
Both Cait and I looked at Maia with a confused look when Cait said, ‘What do you mean?’
Maia looked worried for a second—she couldn’t tell if she was in trouble, but Cait gave her a smile to reassure her.
‘That picture,’ Maia pointed up at the girl’s face surrounded by red paint, ‘that’s AB.’
I found myself taking deep breaths as I stared at the painting. My eyes were burning as I looked into the eyes of the drawing. Brick by brick, I felt the walls around me begin to crumble. Soon enough, the picture had become distorted as my sight had become a blur.
‘What’s wrong, AB?’ Maia asked as I looked at her and then back at the face on the canvas.
As I turned to leave the room, Cait said Maia’s name in a shaky whisper but I didn’t stop to listen.
I didn’t care.
Not about my strength or getting another person to believe in me.
Not anymore.
I needed to be away from everyone.
This was too much.
In the early hours, sometime in May, as a million specks of glitter twinkled across an infinity of dark blue, I had looked out the car window. I had noticed the stillness of the streets with the only sign of life being some foxes, weaving through the neatly trimmed hedges and gently swaying trees. The growing leaves of spring danced with the wind as I felt the cool air meet the goose pimples on my skin. I had continued to admire the stillness of the night, unaware of how in a split second, it would all end.
The foxes had run away in a frenzy from the sound of my screams as the birds rushed away from the trees to disappear into the darkness. No longer had the night seemed calm and soothing. Instead it was chilling and cold. It was from then on that time forever stood still.
When my eyes opened again, I knew everything was different but I had no idea how different things were. At first, I forced myself to concentrate on how to get out of the house. I knew what was going on for a while but I refused to say out loud. I couldn’t be dead. In the moments when I finally admitted it to myself, I broke. Not only had my life collapsed around me but the person I was had completely broken. It was like I had become a vase that had hit the floor, shattering into a million pieces. Over the years, I began to find those pieces, some of which were gone forever but once I did, I knew that no matter what, I would never be the same vase I once was. I had to put the parts of myself back together but they were put back differently.
There’s no great guide on how to be dead, nor is there an angel that comes along to show you the ropes. I woke alone and stayed alone. I had to figure it all out by myself and there had been so many things that had changed. No longer did I need to breathe and yet I did it every day, several times a minute, just out of habit. I couldn’t just touch things anymore, I needed power which was hard to come by but what I found most difficult, other than being trapped in the house, was looking into a mirror and finding only the wall behind me.
I could see everything around me, but I was gone. I didn’t understand why it had bothered me so much since I hadn’t been much of a fan of my appearance anyway but there was something about not being able to see my face that made me feel like I truly didn’t exist anymore.
As the years went by, I made every effort to remember the faces of those I cared for but along the way, I realised I had forgotten what I had looked like. Sure, I knew what colour hair I had and the colour of my eyes but I couldn’t see it all together. I couldn’t tell you what my smile looked like or how I looked when I was sad. I felt stripped of my identity.
Seeing my face painted by Cait, I hadn’t recognised it until Maia pointed it out but once she did, I knew it was me. It was like being reunited with a long-lost family member after telling yourself for years that they were never coming back. I had been reminded of the grief and become consumed by the memories of an earlier me. The person I had buried a long time ago and I wasn’t sure I could face bringing her back ever again.
18
Finn
When I returned from helping my dad and Theo with the rubbish, Maia pulled me to one side.
‘I think AB is sad,’ she said with a wrinkled brow.
‘Why?’ I asked, surprised that I was worried about someone I had only known for a day.
‘She didn’t come to watch the film with me so I went to the library, and she was really upset.’
I wondered for a moment if I had done something wrong.
‘Mummy drew a picture of her.’ Maia whispered carefully, not wanting my mum to hear.
How could my mum know what AB looked like? Could my mum see her?
Knowing Maia wouldn’t have the answers to my questions, I reassured her that AB would be ok and I’d check on her.
Once I reached the stairs to the library, I looked over my shoulder to my mum’s painting room. Though only being able to speak to AB for a short while, I had spent enough time wondering what she looked like. If there was a picture of her I knew I had to see it and so I walked away from the steps and walked into the room. It was filled with several paintings—some finished of me, Maia and Theo while others were just strokes of paint against a white canvas. The picture of AB had been easy to point out being the only one on the easel. Surrounded by red smears of paint and splashes of black was a black and white sketch of the girl’s face. I moved closer, careful not to touch any of the wet paint, to get a better a look at her face. Her eyebrows were thin and nothing like some you would see nowadays. Her lips were pouty but you could tell they were natural. Grey freckles were scattered across her cheeks and nose but it was her eyes that stole the show. The centre of her iris was shaded orange as though she was looking at flames. She stared at me as though she could see me. I couldn’t make out from the picture if she was about to smile or cry.
Was this AB?
I left the room with the picture stained into my mind. I took the stairs up to the library and poked my head around the door, allowing a slice of light to come in from the stairs. I took a deep breath before biting onto my bottom lip. I couldn’t hear a single noise or see a floating book.
‘AB?’ I cleared my throat. ‘I know what it’s like to want to be alone but if you do want to chat, I wouldn’t mind.’ My cheeks rushed with heat as I quickly felt stupid and wished I hadn’t said anything.
‘You can sit with me if you want,’ she whispered.
I nodded and closed the door causing the room to darken again with only the faintest light coming from the window.
‘You can turn the light on,’ she said, her voice louder this time, as I walked around the books on the floor.
‘No, it’s ok,’ I said, stopping when I realised I had no idea where she was in the room, and I wasn’t sure where to sit. ‘Where are you?’
‘Under the window on your right,’ she said before I slid against the wall, sitting a few feet away from the window. I tugged on the arms of my hoodie and leaned on my bent knees.
‘Maia said you were upset.’
She sighed before whispering, ‘Yeah, I was.’
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I turned my head to face her, wondering where her eyes were and what they looked like in person.
‘Honestly, I’m not sure there is much to say.’
‘Ok. I’m good with silence too.’ I smiled quickly, twisting the end of my sleeve.
I kept my gaze on the window opposite me, staring at the crescent moon, noticing that when I looked hard enough I could see the faint outline of the whole moon.
‘Your mum drew a painting of me,’ AB said after a few minutes. She spoke quietly. She sounded scared.
I nodded, having already seen the picture. It was weird putting a face to her voice and even though it was just a painting, I was mesmerised by it. Amongst the black and red strokes of paint sat two pools of a striking green that made her eyes. They stared back at me as I wondered
how they compared in person.
‘Yeah, Maia told me. It’s weird seeing as my mum doesn’t even believe you exist,’ I said, hoping one day I’d see her eyes in real life.
‘Yeah, I guess,’ she replied before I noticed the book beside me move a few inches and the pages flicker as though she had brushed her finger against them.
‘Is that why you’re upset?’ I asked, not completely sure why it would have made her upset unless Mum had gotten her face wrong.
‘I honestly don’t know. I saw my face today for the first time in over thirty years, and it just felt like the icing on a very messy cake.’
‘You can’t see your own face?’ I asked, suddenly understanding.
‘No…and I keep forgetting you can’t either.’
I felt bad, I didn’t like my own face but not being able to see myself would suck. It would feel like you were blind in a way. ‘That must suck,’ I said.
‘Yep.’ She sighed.
‘What’s it like? You know, being a ghost?’ I asked after a few seconds of silence.
‘It has its perks, I guess—like, I can go through walls and doors—but I need a lot of energy to do things like turning on the light and picking up a book.’
‘And tidying up my bedroom?’ I smiled wondering if she was too.
‘Yeah, like tidying your bedroom,’ she said. Her voice sounded lighter.
‘How do you get the energy?’ I asked.
‘I used to think it was just from scaring people, but I think now it’s just having people believe in me.’
I nodded. ‘A bit like Tinkerbell, you know, when people have to believe in fairies so that she doesn’t die…’ Sometimes I had no idea why I even bothered talking when I only ever seemed to come up with crap like this.
AB laughed though. Not too much but it was a laugh that made me relax a little.
‘Sure. But mostly, being a ghost is boring unless I have energy. Up until this week, I hadn’t spoken to anyone since I had died.’
‘What did you do then? Just read?’ I glanced around at all the books wondering if she had read them all.
‘Yeah, when it was light outside. There was no electricity here before you moved in so once it was night, I had to stop and just wait for the day to arrive,’ she said.
‘So, you can’t sleep?’ I asked.
‘No.’
My mouth dropped. ‘That sucks. Like, that really sucks. So you have to stay awake doing nothing for hours? That would drive me crazy.’
‘It did. It still does.’
Silence fell on us again as I looked back the moon, wondering how I’d cope in her position. It felt like a prison. I felt claustrophobic for her.
‘What’s it like now that we’re here? That’s gotta be strange after so long,’
‘It’s confusing. I mean, it’s amazing being able to talk to someone and have Maia see me but other times, like today, I feel like it’s all too much, and I can’t breathe anymore…’ The pages of the book beside me had begun to flicker again before being closed, ‘Not that I need to.’
I reached down to pick at the laces on my trainers wondering what it would feel like to no longer need to breathe. The thought caused me to inhale several times as though I might stop breathing at any moment.
‘Someone once said that once you master the art of being alone you are ready for the company of others, but I think maybe they meant it for those that choose to be alone.’ She said distracting me from my thoughts.
‘Does anyone actually choose to be alone?’ I said looking back at the brightness of the crescent moon but more interested in the grey shadow that made up the rest of the moon
‘Don’t you?’ she asked.
I looked away and began pulling on my sleeves so they covered both of my hands. ‘Are there other ghosts here?’
‘No,’ she said, allowing me to change the topic. ‘I don’t even know for sure if there are others like me that exist.’
‘Does that mean there is no heaven or hell?’ I asked, not fully expecting her to know the answer but if anyone did, she would.
‘I have no idea.’
‘Do you know how you died?’ I said pushing the front of my hair away from my face.
‘Yeah…’ she said and before I could ask any more questions on the topic she continued. ‘Do you know what scissors are?’
I frowned wondering if she had been in an accident with some scissors. ‘Yeah…’
‘Then why is your hair like that? You look like one of those dogs that look like they have no eyes.’
I laughed, a real laugh. It had been so long since I had laughed that I had forgotten what it sounded like coming from my own mouth.
‘Yeah, I guess it could do with a cut.’ I ran a hand through it.
‘You think? I feel sorry for the hairdresser that has to deal with that mop of mess.’ She laughed again, and this time it was contagious.
‘Ok, AB,’ I said once our giggles had settled, pronouncing each syllable separately.
‘Can I ask you a question?’ she said before I could continue.
‘Go for it,’ I smiled and ran a hand through my hair, failing to neaten my hair.
‘Why aren’t you scared of me? You’re talking to a ghost and yet you seem so relaxed by it all.’
‘I don’t know.’ I shrugged, ‘I guess you’re not very scary compared to the ghosts in films I have seen. You seem like a normal person.’
‘A normal person you can’t see,’ she laughed but it was forced like she was hiding her sadness with a simple laugh.
‘It’s like I become blind when I talk to you. You’re there but I can’t see you there.’ I stopped as I thought about it for a moment. ‘Would you prefer it if I was scared of you?’
‘No,’ she paused, ‘I get more strength from people this way.’
I laughed. ‘So, you’re using me?’
‘Well, I guess I am in a way,’ she said but she wasn’t laughing with me. ‘But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re not scared of me.’
It seemed unreal that before moving to the house, I could barely string a sentence together before feeling as though I was being judged by someone. Conversations with people terrified me. If I wasn’t tearing myself apart, dissecting every word I had said, I’d be drowning in fear that I may say the wrong thing but being around AB was different. I couldn’t imagine ever being scared of her. I couldn’t imagine AB not existing in my life.
I slowly nodded, watching the book beside me continue to move around slightly before I reached my hand out and rested my palm against it. For a second, I imagined it was her hand.
‘I’m glad I am not scared too.’
19
Ab
A few days had passed since the evening Finn and I had spoken in the library, and somehow we had fallen into a little routine. After reading to Maia as she fell asleep, I’d go into Finn’s room where I would spend the next few hours. Some days, he’d listen to me talk about my books and I would listen to him talk about his games. He explained to me what social media was and the other modern-day changes. He would listen intently as I explained how different the ’80s had been.
‘I didn’t have a mobile phone or even a computer.’
‘So how did you speak to people?’ He seemed both fascinated and confused.
‘If my gran let me then I’d use the house phone, but mostly you just went to their house.’
‘But how would you know if they were in?’
I laughed. ‘I guess, you didn’t.’
Sometimes, when we were all talked out, we would watch our favourite films. Finn didn’t have just one favourite since he loved anything that had a superhero, and yet he strangely didn’t enjoy reading comics. And after watching his film choice, I made him watch mine—the last film I saw before I died: The Breakfast Club.
‘So the whole film is set on one day in a school?’ he asked with a groan. ‘Wait, they have detention on a Saturday? No chance I’d go.’ And finally, as John Bender threw his arm up
into the air, I looked over at Finn and smiled.
‘You loved it, didn’t you?’
He shrugged his shoulders, hiding a smile. ‘It was ok.’
I couldn’t help myself from laughing as he rolled his eyes.
‘I bet you were just like Claire when you were alive. All popular and perfect.’
I smiled. ‘Actually, I was far from it. I was more of an ‘Allison’. I didn’t really fit in at school. I’ve always been that little bit different to everyone else.’
‘I wouldn’t have expected that. You seem so, I don’t know, not ‘Allison’.’
‘It wasn’t a bad thing being me. I learned to appreciate my differences, and I became happier because of it. I learned how to not care and that I didn’t have to ‘fit in’ in order to find my place in the world. I could be whoever I wanted.’
‘So who was AB?’ he asked, and I could grew uncomfortable.
In my silence, Finn had guessed I didn’t want to answer the question, but unlike other times, he pushed me to answer. ‘AB, we’ve been talking for several days now but I have no idea who you actually are.’
He was right. I had avoided every question he asked that was about me but then, he had done the same.
‘Same goes. You’ve avoided all my questions too.’
He sighed and dropped his gaze to the floor. He knew I was right too.
‘Ok. I have an idea,’ he said sitting upright on his bed, ‘how about every day we get to ask each other one question each and you have to answer?’
I paused for a moment, knowing there was one question he would ask again that I wouldn’t answer.
‘Fine but we each get one pass of a question.’
He nodded, and I wondered if he had any questions he would struggle to answer too.
‘So, do you want to go first?’ he asked. I was not expecting to start right away.
‘Erm, sure.’ I paused for a moment thinking of the things I wanted to know. ‘Ok, I have a question. What’s the deal with you and Theo? Why do you not get on?’