there,’ he repeated.
Elizabeth blinked back at him. She raised her arms questioningly.
‘Beside you, on the beanbag.’ Luke’s voice became louder with anxiety. He stared at the yellow corduroy beanbag as though willing his friend to appear.
Elizabeth followed his gaze.
‘See him?’ He dropped the control pad and stood up quickly.
This was followed by a tense silence in which Elizabeth could feel Luke’s hatred for her emanating from his body. She could tell what he was thinking: why couldn’t she just see him, why couldn’t she just play along just this once, why couldn’t she ever pretend? She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked around the room to see if she really was missing his friend in some way. Nothing.
She leaned down to be on an even level with him and her knees cracked. ‘There’s no one else but you and me in this room,’ she whispered softly. Somehow saying it quietly made it easier. Easier for herself or Luke, she didn’t know.
Luke’s cheeks flushed and his chest heaved faster. He stood in the centre of the room, surrounded by computer keypad wires, with his little hands down by his side, looking helpless. Elizabeth’s heart hammered in her chest as she silently begged, please do not be like your mother, please do not be like your mother. She knew only too well how the world of fantasy could steal you away.
Finally Luke exploded and, staring into space, demanded, ‘Ivan, say something to her!’
There was a silence as he looked into space and then giggled hysterically. He looked back at Elizabeth and his smile quickly faded when he noticed her lack of response. ‘Do you not see him?’ he squealed nervously. Then, more angrily, repeated, ‘Why don’t you see him?’
‘OK, OK!’ Elizabeth tried not to panic. She stood back up to her own level. A level where she had control. She couldn’t see him and her brain refused to let her pretend. She wanted to get out of the room quickly. She lifted her leg to step over the beanbag and stopped herself, instead choosing to walk round it. Once at the door, she glanced around one last time to see if she could spot the mystery Ivan. No sign.
Luke shrugged, sat down and continued playing his wrestling game.
‘I’m putting some pizza on now, Luke.’
Silence. What else should she say? It was at moments like this she realised that reading all the parenting manuals in the world never helped. Good parenting came from the heart, was instinctive, and not for the first time she worried she was letting Luke down.
‘It will be ready in twenty minutes,’ she finished awkwardly.
‘What?’ Luke pressed Pause again and faced the window.
‘I said it will be ready in twen—’
‘No, not you,’ Luke said, once again being sucked into the world of video games. ‘Ivan would like some too. He said pizza is his favourite.’
‘Oh.’ Elizabeth swallowed helplessly.
‘With olives,’ Luke continued.
‘But, Luke, you hate olives.’
‘Yeah, but Ivan loves them. He says they’re his favourite.’
‘Oh…’
‘Thanks,’ Luke said to his aunt, looked to the beanbag, gave the thumbs-up, smiled, then looked away again.
Elizabeth slowly backed out of the playroom. She realised she was still holding the phone to her chest. ‘Marie, are you still there?’ She chewed on her nail and stared at the closed playroom door, wondering what to do.
‘I thought you’d gone off to the moon as well. I was about to send a car over to your house too,’ Marie chuckled.
Marie mistook Elizabeth’s silence for anger and apologised quickly. ‘Anyway, you were right, Saoirse was headed to the moon but luckily she decided to stop off on the way to refuel. Refuelling herself, more like. Your car was found blocking the main street with the engine still running and the driver’s door wide open. You’re lucky Paddy found it when he did before someone took off with it.’
‘Let me guess. The car was outside the pub.’
‘Correct.’ Marie paused. ‘Do you want to press charges?’
Elizabeth sighed. ‘No. Thanks, Marie.’
‘Not a problem. We’ll have someone bring the car home to you.’
‘What about Saoirse?’ Elizabeth paced the hall. ‘Where is she?’
‘We’ll just keep her here for a while, Elizabeth.’
‘I’ll come get her,’ Elizabeth said quickly.
‘No,’ Marie insisted. ‘Let me get back to you about that. She needs to calm down before she goes anywhere yet.’
From inside the playroom Elizabeth heard Luke laughing and talking away to himself.
‘Actually, Marie,’ she added with a weak smile, ‘while we’re on the phone, tell whoever’s bringing the car to bring a shrink with them. It seems Luke is imagining friends now…’
Inside the playroom Ivan rolled his eyes and wiggled his body down further into the beanbag. He had heard her on the phone. Ever since he had started this job, parents had been calling him that and it was really beginning to bother him. There was nothing imaginary about him whatsoever
They just couldn’t see him.
It was really nice of Luke to invite me to lunch that day. When I said that pizza was my favourite I hadn’t actually intended being asked to stay to eat it. But how can you say no to the treat of pizza on a Friday? That’s a cause for double celebration. However, I got the impression from the incident in the playroom that his aunt didn’t like me very much, but I’m not at all surprised because that’s usually the way it goes. The parents always think that making food for me is a waste because they always just end up throwing it out. But it’s tricky for me – I mean, you try eating your dinner squashed in a tiny place at the table while everyone looks at you and wonders whether the food is going to disappear or not. I eventually get so paranoid that I can’t eat and just have to leave the food on the plate.
Not that I’m complaining – being invited to dinner is nice but the grown-ups never quite put the same amount of food on my plate as everyone else’s. It’s never even half as much food as the rest and they always say things like, ‘Oh, I’m sure Ivan’s not that hungry today anyway.’ I mean, how would they know? They never even ask. I’m usually sandwiched between whoever my best friend is at the time and some annoying older brother or sister who steals my food when no one’s looking.
They forget to give me things like serviettes, cutlery, and they sure aren’t generous with the wine. (Sometimes they just give me an empty plate and tell my best
