The Spirit Seer

Chapter 8

My leg shakes where it sits on my bed. I'm trying to prepare for his arrival. In just a few minutes Heath will be at my house. I haven't had a friend over since I was like eight. Not that he’s technically a friend. He wouldn't really be the person I'd choose to be the first one to come to my house.

I fidget again. My stomach is in knots. This has the potential to go really really bad. I want to believe that it's all going to be ok, but I can't. I'm too cynical for that.

I can't take the waiting anymore. I walk out to the kitchen and get a glass of water. I wish I had some chocolate right now. Anything would do, even a snack-sized candy bar. It is my vice. I always feel better when I have some chocolate.

I lean against the counter and look out the window. Once again, my foot starts moving. Apparently, I have a lot of nervous energy to work out. I don't know if I can do this.

My mom walks into the room talking. I glance in her direction and see she's looking to a ghost. Which means she's not talking to me. So, I ignore her. I have gotten good at that over the years.

"How was school?" That was directed at me.

"It was fine."

She nods. "That's good, I think you worry about it entirely too much. You are a smart girl."

That may be true, but I have high hopes for my future and they don’t consist of staying in the town where she insists on letting people think she's crazy.

"I'm having someone over to work on a project so can you please rein things in? Just for a little while."

I watch her face while I talk, and at first when she heard I was having someone over her face lit up, and then it darkened again.

I wish I didn't have to do that. I hate to hurt my mom. But can't she understand where I'm coming from? Can’t she get why I don’t want people to think the things she lets them think?

Am I wrong? I can’t help but wonder. I do that a lot with my mom. Sometimes I’m so sure I’m doing the right thing but then when I see the hurt look in her eyes I can’t help but wonder if I’m just being a brat.

"Sure, of course I'll rein in the crazy for a while." She walks off.

I flinch. Dang it, I know she’s not crazy I can see the ghosts too, but she doesn't know that. Now I hurt her feelings. This day isn't going good at all.

And in perfect timing that's when I hear the knock at the door. Man, the time has come to face my doom.

I can do this, I have to do this. He’ll come in, we’ll do the project and then he’ll leave, easy as that. He never has to know about the ghosts at all.

I walk to the door and take a deep breath to calm my nerves before opening it up. Heath is standing on the porch wearing a rocker T and some dark beat-up jeans. He has the neutral look on his face that he always seems to wear.

I smile nervously. "Hi"

He gives me a look. "Are you going to invite me in, or are we going to work on the project in the doorway?"

Um, right I should invite him in. Geez Bailey, pay attention. You don't want him to think you’re a spaz.

"Right, come in." I hold the door open and step back to let him in. He walks in and takes a look around.

My stomach is in knots again. My house is nice. My mom keeps things clean and tidy. But it's a pretty old run-down house. There's only so much we can do with it. Things fall apart all the time and then we have to fix them.

I'm actually proud of the life my mom has managed to build for us. But I've never had anyone here to judge it, and it makes me nervous that this guy I don't even really know is standing in my living room and making judgments about my life.

"Nice house"

I expel the breath I didn't realize I was holding. He earned some serious brownie points right there. If he hadn't sounded serious, then it would have annoyed me, and it would have started our "relationship" off to a bad start.

"Thanks, I like it."

He gives me that half smile again. The one that makes me feel kind of funny. "That's important."

We are totally having a moment. Maybe this whole thing is doable. Of course, that is the moment my mom comes back in talking to a ghost.

"Yeah, I can help, just let me get a drink and then I'll get out of my daughter's way annnd-" She stops when she finally notices us standing there.

My stomach drops. I close my eyes in humiliation and suck in a breath. Ohmigod so much for reining it in. How am I supposed to explain this one?

"Oh...Um, hi"

Yeah keep talking that will make it all better. I think sarcastically.

"Uh...hi," Heath says hesitantly.

"Mom, we have a project to work on so we're going to go into my room now." I grab Heath's hand and pull him towards my room.

"Keep the door open."

I ignore her and close the door as soon as we're in my room.

"Didn't she say to leave the door open?"

Yeah, but I know a conversation is coming that I don't want my mom to overhear. There's no way he's not going to comment on her craziness.

"It's quieter if we close it. Less chance we'll hear my mom talking to herself." I plaster on my fake smile and try not to freak.

I grab my backpack and start pulling the stuff we'll need out.

This is why I don't have people over. He wasn't here even two minutes before he saw my mom talking to thin air. She has the right to do what she wants in her own home. But that's why I don't have people over.

He doesn't say anything right away and I start to think that maybe he isn't brave enough to broach the subject when he finally asks the dreaded question.

"So, your mom talks to herself?"

Well, at least he didn't come right out and call her crazy. That is something.

"Yeah, sometimes..."

"Ohhh ok" That’s all he says. And then he goes back to looking through his backpack.

I pull out my books and get prepared to work. I know I should let it go, he was very courteous by not making a big deal about it, but I can't let it go.

"She's not really crazy you know. She doesn't act crazy, other than talking to herself...of course.” I laugh nervously. Now I sound like I'm making excuses. I don't know why I feel the need to explain to him, I just do.

"Why does she talk to herself?"

"She isn't actually talking to herself. Not really, she" I can't tell him the truth not yet, but I want him to understand. "She talks to people, sort of. She thinks she sees people and she talks to them."

He's quiet for a second. "So, she thinks other people can see them too?"

I shake my head. "No, she knows she's the only one who can see them. Sort of like imaginary friends."

Now he looks confused. "Then if she knows she's the only one who can see them, why does she talk to them so openly?

I get up and pretend to look on my dresser for a pen. This is the most honest I've been with anyone in a while. I'm not good at opening up to people. I'm a lot better at avoiding and pretending. A part of me is terrified to let him in, but if I'm going to help Spencer then I need to try and trust him.

"I don't know, I've never really asked her about it," I answer quietly.

I know she can see ghosts obviously but I've never actually taken the time to ask her why she talks to them so openly and why she puts them before appearing sane.

"Why not?"

"I don't know, maybe I just don't want to face it. Other than talking to people that only she can see, she acts sane. She's a good mom. I guess I don't want to know if there’s more to it."

"I can understand that. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. Sometimes it's easier before you know the truth."

I force myself to look at him. There is a sadness in his voice that I don’t completely understand. He has the blank look on his face again, and I'm beginning to think it's a mask he wears so nobody will see who he really is. I have one of those. It hides my biggest darkest secret. I wonder what his is hiding.

But rather than ask I say. "We should probably get to work."

We learned a lot about each other today, but this trust thing is going to take some time. No need to overwhelm him.