Invisibility

by Andrea Cremer

  But after dinner, when he reveals The Ghost in the Shell with a flourish, I can’t keep my mouth shut. I’m snagged instantly because it’s anime, and Mom is intrigued because it’s Japanese. Laurie lights up with a smug grin when we both titter our approval. But there’s no way he picked that movie solo.

  “I guess this proves your new honey has good taste,” I say.

  Mom perks up. “What’s this?”

  “Shut up, Elizabeth,” he says. “Or I’ll take back the Runaways your boyfriend had me bring you.”

  My brother and I are mirror images of each other, facing off at the kitchen table. Arms folded, smiles tight, acid glares.

  “I don’t think we need a movie,” Mom says. “Watching you two battle over secret love interests is entertainment enough.”

  Her gentle mocking transforms our thin-lipped anger into embarrassed blushes. She’s a master of diffusing tension, which is probably why she’s never had trouble snapping up the best administration jobs at renowned hospitals.

  “Who’s going to tell me first?” she asks.

  Laurie’s cheeks are like roses, and guilt from baiting him tips me into confession.

  “I met this boy,” I say, thinking I couldn’t have put it in a more infantile way.

  “He’s real,” Laurie says. “I talked to him on the phone.”

  “For the last time.” I glare at Laurie again. “Why would I make up a boyfriend?”

  “I dunno,” Laurie says. “You’re a writer . . . kind of. Maybe like method acting for character creation.”

  I make a sound that’s somewhere between choking and a snarl.

  Mom pats my hand. “What’s his name?”

  “Stephen.” When I say it, I hear how my voice changes. I barely recognize it. Mom’s smile, surprised but tender, tells me she understands exactly how I’m feeling. I don’t need to say anything else.

  She turns to my brother. “Well?”

  “That’s it?” He shoots an accusatory glance at me. “You’re only giving her a name.”

  I ignore him.

  “I’m waiting, Laurie,” Mom says, cutting off any further discussion of my young romance.

  Forsaking the chance to tease me for the bliss of spilling his own heart capades, Laurie smiles goofily.

  “He lives in the building,” he says. “Two floors up. His name is Sean. He’s six feet tall. Wiry but not too skinny. He has the best hair and it falls over his eyebrows in the most adorable way. And he’s sooooooo smart. Way smarter than Elizabeth even.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  Mom grins at me. “Serious. Clearly.”

  I give her a solemn nod.

  “You guys,” Laurie whines. “Don’t make fun of me. I really like him.”

  “We only tease from love, sweetheart.” Mom laughs. “I’m happy you have a new friend.”

  Laurie’s so full of crush-ridden ecstasy I think he might bounce out of his chair.

  “Don’t forget to breathe, Tigger,” I say.

  “Since we’ve heard about Sean,” Mom says, “it’s only fair you tell us a little more about Stephen, Elizabeth.”

  Unlike Laurie, for whom romance equals gushing, I get awkward. My fingers wrap around the seat of my chair.

  “Ummm. He’s nice.”

  “And?”

  “He lives two doors down.”

  “Really?” Mom’s eyebrows go up. She looks from me to Laurie. “Lots of building romance. This could become a French farce if you two aren’t careful.”

  Mom laughs at her joke, which only gets blank stares from us. Realizing her joke failed, Mom gets serious.

  “What about parents?” she asks.

  “Sean doesn’t get along with his parents,” Laurie says. “They sound like jerks.”

  “You don’t know them yet,” Mom chides.

  “I know what he’s told me,” Laurie says. “They’re definitely jerks. We don’t hang out at his place unless they’re gone.”

  “I see,” Mom says, sliding a glance at me. “Elizabeth?”

  “Stephen’s mom is in London right now, and I met his dad last night.”

  My brow furrows when I say it. I’d been so excited that Stephen wanted me to meet his dad, but it was kind of awkward, adding to my inexplicable uneasiness about where things stood with us.

  “Oh dear,” Mom says, lacing her fingers together. “Well, I guess I can’t count on anyone else to chaperone, just like they can’t count on me.”

  “Chaperones?!” Laurie puts his fingers up in the sign of the cross. “Gah!”

  “I’m not here a lot,” she says, shaking her head at him. “And I know you’re responsible enough to be unsupervised. But falling for someone can lead to impulsive decisions.”

  Laurie and I both groan in anticipation of where this is going, but Mom stampedes right over our protest.

  “I expect that if it becomes necessary, you’ll discuss with me what you need to be safe. And you know I prefer it if you abstain from sexual activity until you’re eighteen . . . at least. You both still have a lot of developing to do, physically and emotionally.”

  I think I’m going to spontaneously combust, while Laurie only looks bemused. Mom may be the queen of conflict resolution, but when it comes to anything health related, she can’t get her tone past clinical.

  Mom places her napkin on her empty dinner plate and smooths her skirt. “Since that’s taken care of, let’s clean this up and watch the movie.”

  * * *

  Dishes scrubbed, dried, and put away, I settle onto the couch. Laurie sets up the movie, while Mom salts the popcorn, which is already glistening with melted butter, just the way we all like it—devoid of any redeeming nutritional value. Laurie is still chattering at Mom about the merits of Sean’s eyebrow-veiling hair and I smile, knowing that while he jumped on me for telling her about him, Laurie has been dying to talk about his new crush. Sean’s the first potential boyfriend Laurie’s had, and while I’m not sure exactly what’s transpiring between them, it’s making Laurie happy. That knowledge makes something inside me, something that had been sharp and brittle, start to soften. A scabby old wound healing.

  Laurie and I snuggle in on either side of Mom, and I am suddenly so content tears prick the corners of my eyes. The only thing I could wish for is that Stephen were here too. Having Mom know about him, listening to him talking to Laurie on the phone—and the sweetness of the gift he’d had Laurie pick up for me—I want him to meet my family.

  I fish my phone out of my pocket before I remember he’s at dinner with his father.

  When I met Stephen’s dad, it was uncomfortable. The room felt too small, the air too stuffy. Thinking about Laurie’s analysis of Sean’s family, I wondered if Stephen and his dad were fighting before I arrived. But why would he invite me over then? Because he doesn’t want to hide his life from me, even the bad stuff. That’s the way we are together. That’s why I lo . . .

  The thought catches me off guard. I was thinking it. That’s why I love him.

  “Are you scared?” Laurie asks, drawing me out of my own mind. “It’s just a preview.”

  I look down and see I’m clutching a throw pillow to my chest.

  “Nope,” I say quickly. “Just caught a chill.”

  “Seriously?” Laurie stares at me. “It’s like a gazillion degrees outside.”

  “I hope you’re not getting sick,” Mom says.

  “I’m fine,” I say, pushing her hand away before she can feel my forehead. “Let’s just watch the movie. I’m excited about it.”

  I’m grateful when they don’t push the issue further. Still trembling slightly from the confession of feeling that shuddered its way through my limbs, I text Stephen.

  The Runaways rocks. You’re my hero. Probably Laurie’s too ’cause he won’t shut up about Sean. Hope dinner is going well. Miss you.

  I want to write I love you, but I’m way too scared to risk it. Even thinking it is still scary.

  * * *

  When I go
to bed, he hasn’t written back. I wake up and still haven’t heard anything from him. What if he read between the lines of my text, somehow seeing my wishful “I love you” sentiment in the words, and was put off by it? What if he had a bad dinner with his dad and is really upset but afraid to call? What if they were in a tragic cab accident and are even now in intensive care at my mom’s hospital? My explanations for why I have no Stephen texts or phone calls in the last twelve hours get wilder and wilder. The most recent involves escaped Bronx Zoo monkeys and the Central Park horse carriages. Anxiety crawls under my skin, making me pace around the house in my pajamas while Laurie reads me the ingredients of Pop-Tarts to prove that they are 99 percent artificial.

  “Then why do you eat them?” I ask, glancing at my phone for the millionth time.

  He shrugs. “They taste awesome. I have an artificial fruit and preservative addiction.”

  “Interesting self-diagnosis,” I say.

  “I have uncanny skills when it comes to assessing my state of being. My current assessment being that my most serious addiction is to artificial blueberry.”

  “Ah.”

  He licks Pop-Tart crumbs off his fingers. “So when do I get to meet him?”

  “What?” I’m looking at my phone again, not really listening.

  “Mystery, but not imaginary, boyfriend,” he says. “Stephen. You’re obviously gone for him. And while the phone call was a suave first move, I’d like to make sure I approve. Said approval requires face-to-face.”

  I don’t answer, gazing at Laurie.

  “Don’t you want me to meet him?” He looks crestfallen.

  “Of course,” I say. It’s dawning on me that Laurie has given me a perfect solution to my ongoing crisis. Stephen invited me to meet his dad. That’s a big move, relationship-wise. So the next step must be for me to reciprocate. Laurie’s perfect. Parents are more intimidating, and I’m sure if Stephen had a brother or sister for me to meet, he or she would have been first. Plus his dad isn’t always in town, so there was an expiration date on this chance to meet him.

  “You have a few minutes before you need to get going?” I ask Laurie.

  “I was planning to savor one more Pop-Tart,” he says. “You inviting boy wonder over now?”

  I bite my lip. “Is it too early?”

  “Not really,” Laurie says, looking me up and down. “But you’re not exactly coiffed.”

  “Do you want to meet him or not?” I glare.

  “If you’re comfortable with being PJ-bedhead girlfriend, don’t let me stand in the way.” Laurie’s Pop-Tart hops out of the toaster. He sniffs it like he’s discerning the notes of a fine wine.

  I am a little embarrassed to see Stephen before a shower, but I don’t want to miss this chance. I’m worried about why he hasn’t called and also worried that I’ll lose my nerve about him meeting Laurie if I don’t act on the current impulse.

  I dial Stephen’s number. It rings twice.

  “Hey.” His voice is tired.

  Fail. “I woke you up. Sorry.”

  “No,” he says. “You didn’t. I’m awake. I just didn’t sleep at all.”

  “Oh,” I say. He was up all night and he still didn’t text or call. My heart feels like it’s caving in on itself. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m trying to figure that out,” he says. “How was movie night?”

  His tone lightens and I smile, relieved. “Great, in fact . . .” I glance at Laurie, whose eyes are closed as he has apparently achieved Pop-Tart nirvana. “Can you stop by?”

  “Right now? Are you alone?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I—” Guilt dries out my throat. I’ll be alone soon enough, but I want Laurie to meet Stephen. It’s not too much of a lie, is it?

  “Yes,” he says, cutting me off. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  My smile vanishes and my heart is now in splinters. The talk. He wants to have the breakup talk. He somehow picked that I love you right out of the text, has decided I am too needy, and is coming over to break up with me. And when he sees me with unbrushed hair and tattered pajamas, he will have even more of a reason to ditch me.

  I try to talk, wanting to delay him, say I’ve changed my mind and we shouldn’t see each other. But my mouth is full of cotton and my lips have gone numb.

  “I’ll be right over.” He hangs up.

  I set my phone on the counter.

  “Is he coming?” Laurie asks.

  I nod. He slides out of his chair and comes to my side, frowning.

  “What’s wrong? You kinda look like you might throw up.”

  I don’t want to answer because I think I probably will throw up if I open my mouth.

  There’s a light knock on the door and it swings open.

  Laurie turns, smiling. “She must really like you if you’re in the habit of just walking in like you live here.”

  If I wasn’t shaking with the knowledge that I was about to be dumped, I would smile. I always leave the door open for Stephen. I love it when he walks in, always opening his arms to me before we even say hello.

  “That’s weird.” Laurie is staring at the open door, looking past Stephen, who is frozen a few steps into our apartment.

  Laurie looks at me. “Didn’t somebody knock?”

  “Stephen did.” My voice comes out like a crow’s croak.

  Stephen still hasn’t moved. He obviously doesn’t want to break up with me in front of my brother any more than I want him to. But here we all are.

  “Stephen, this is Laurie,” I say. “He’s about to head to school. I thought you could say hello before he leaves.”

  Why I’m trying to help the boy who is about to stomp on my heart get past this awkward first-and-last introduction to my brother is beyond me, but I don’t know what else to do.

  “Elizabeth . . .” Laurie frowns at me. “There’s nobody here.”

  “Don’t start with the imaginary boyfriend bit again,” I say. “It’s not funny.”

  Laurie pales. “I’m not joking.”

  Laurie doesn’t answer but turns back to the door, staring.

  “Stephen, did you put him up to this?” I ask.

  Stephen hasn’t moved, but his fists are clenched at his sides now.

  “What the hell is going on?” Laurie rubs his eyes.

  “Laurie,” Stephen says, quietly but in a firm tone.

  “Oh my God.” Laurie jumps back. His elbow knocks his juice glass to the floor. It shatters. “Who was that?”

  Stephen is looking at me now. I meet his sad gaze. His shoulders rise and fall as he sighs. Missing pieces begin to fall into place.

  Something happens that’s never happened to me before. Not even when I saw Laurie going into the emergency room. I start screaming and I can’t stop.

  Chapter 9

  MY MIND, FOR A MOMENT, is caught in a tight loop.

  This can’t be happening.

  Therefore it is not happening.

  This can’t be happening.

  Therefore it is not happening.

  Then Elizabeth starts to scream and I know that, yes, this can be happening, and, yes, it is most definitely happening. And all the things I thought I was going to say—apologies about my father, more lies about my mother, more lies to deflect Elizabeth’s gaze from the real truth—all of these things fall away.

  “It’s okay,” I say—perhaps the biggest lie of all. But it’s one of those things you do. You say something like “It’s okay” not because it is, in fact, okay, but because you’re hoping these words will somehow make it okay. Even though they never, ever do.

  Laurie is grabbing her shoulders, asking what’s going on. He is so confused. And she is so confused. I am the only one in the room who understands what’s happening.

  “Elizabeth, I’m sorry,” I say, getting closer.

  “No,” she says, pulling away. “Don’t come near me.”

  Laurie stands between us, even though he can’t see me.

  “This isn’t fun
ny,” he says.

  “No,” I tell him. “It’s really not.”

  She’s backed against the wall now. Staring at me. Laurie looks at her. Sees the intensity of her gaze.

  “You really see him, don’t you?” he asks.

  “And you really can’t,” she says. It’s not even a question. She knows.

  “I can explain,” I say. Even though I can’t.

  “Are you—are you a ghost?” Elizabeth asks.

  “No. I’m alive. I’m just . . . invisible.”

  There. I’ve said it. I’ve used the word.

  Laurie is over by Elizabeth now. His arm around her. Calming her. Exactly where I want to be.

  “If you’re invisible,” Laurie asks, “how can she see you?”

  “I don’t know. I was as surprised as anyone by that. Nobody’s ever seen me before. Nobody.”

  I say this to Laurie. But now I look at Elizabeth. Look right at her.

  “You have no idea what that’s like,” I tell her. “That first day in the hallway—to have gone my whole life without a single person seeing me, and then you saying hello, inviting me in. That was astonishing. But this whole thing—you and I—it isn’t just about that. It’s about much more than that. And while I don’t know why you see me, I am so happy that you’re the one.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks.

  “I didn’t think you’d believe me. Or, even worse, that this would happen when you finally found out, with you over there and me over here. I didn’t want us to feel the way we feel right now.”

  “Where are you?” Laurie asks.

  “Right here,” I say. “Follow the sound of my voice.” He starts walking towards me. “Yes. Right over here. Right. Here.”

  We are face-to-face. Only he can’t see my face. I wonder if he’ll hit me. Throw me out. But instead, he reaches up his palm. I know what he’s doing. I mirror his movement. Concentrate.

  When our palms touch, he jumps back, shocked. But then he recovers. I concentrate again. He touches my hand. Traces my arm. Shoulder. Neck. Face.