I’ve dealt with the judging looks and the sneers my entire life, so by now, I know what I can get away with in public. I’m not imagining the apparitions that have appeared to me for as long as I can remember because some things they tell me are impossible for me to know without talking to the actual person. None of that makes being a “freak” any easier though.
The dead always carry a certain air around them and I can’t blame them, being alone and having no one to interact with for so long would make me bratty too. I can’t help but feel bad for them, but I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to speaking with them.
After being starved for human interaction for so long, they tend to hang around like a bad smell, desperate not to be left alone again. If people weren’t so cruel, I wouldn’t have an issue with speaking to them. No matter how bad I feel for them though I can’t afford for people to look at me like I’m losing my marbles, my job requires people to trust me and there are already too many people who look down their noses at me.
When I was younger, life was tough for me, with talking to my “imaginary friends” all the time. Kids can be fucking cruel, believe me, I know from experience and my little quirk meant I was a prime target for their bullying. Thankfully, I had a mom to go home to who loved me, even if she didn’t always understand me. That’s a lot more than what some other kids had.
My mom was petrified the first time that I told her what I could see, and that ruined me, but I know it couldn’t have been easy for her. My mother was such a kind person, so seeing so much fear and veiled disgust coming from her, made me feel ashamed. I didn’t want to let her down since being as young as I was, made it all the more painful, so from that day on I refused to speak about the dead with her.
I'm in the garden with mum today, while she hangs the washing to dry and does some gardening. It's a beautiful day in the middle of summer, and I've been sitting with my best friend Lucy for most of it. I can see my mom’s eyes keep flicking towards me with fear filling them and it breaks my heart. She tells me I shouldn’t be talking to Lucy, but she’s my best friend and the only friend I have. So it's not like I don't want to talk to her, even if she is being cruel today.
Maybe if mommy knew more about Lucy, then she wouldn’t be so scared. I wish that she could understand; I have to be there for Lucy because she doesn't have anyone else. She’s just like me. Mommy might even tell me how to cheer Lucy up! She’s always crying and I just want her to smile.
"Mommy, Lucy is here again today! She’s sad though, she’s been crying all day and I don’t know how to cheer her up. Maybe she doesn't have a mummy who loves her like you love me! She is being mean to me today though. She keeps saying you're not my real mummy, even when I tell her that's not a funny joke!"
My mum looks up at me with wild eyes, flicking them around the garden, looking for where Lucy might be hiding. I've never understood why she can't see the people that talk to me, but when I bring them up, it's almost like she fears me.
She grabs my little arm in her much bigger hands, abandoning the garden to drag me indoors. "Melissa, what have I told you about your imaginary friends! You're getting too old to still have them, and it's about time you stop talking about people who don't exist. What would make you do such a nasty thing to say that I'm not your real mummy hurts me!"
I squeeze my tiny hands together, looking at the floor when I feel my eyes stinging with the telltale signs of tears. "I'm sorry, mommy! I didn't mean to hurt you, I promise. I-I don't know h-how to make them go away, and you always tell me to be kind to people. I’m not making Lucy up and I know you’re my mommy. It was Lucy who said that you're not."
She strokes her warm hand through my hair, and the feeling is the most comforting thing in the world. It’s like safety and warmth wrap around me and I hope I always have mommy to make me feel better. After a moment she pulls her hand away, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, letting out a deep sigh before turning back to me.
"Just ignore them, my little Mel bell, I don't want people to pick on you because of this. You're a good girl, so please do what mummy asks. I know that it’s hard and I’ve told you to always be nice to others, but your imaginary friends aren’t very nice and they keep getting you into trouble. Please, Mel, you have to be careful who you choose to speak to, especially if they make such horrible things up."
I’m snapped out of my memories with the sound of my latest visitor's voice close to my ear and I have to clench my jaw in my
