If You Could See Me Now. Cecelia AhernЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Chapter 3

      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 friends that invisible people eat invisible food. I mean, please, does the invisible wind blow invisible trees?) I usually get a glass of water and that’s only when I ask my friends politely. The grown-ups think it’s weird that I need a glass of water with my food, but they make an even bigger deal about it when I want ice. I mean, the ice is free anyway and who doesn’t like a cool drink on a hot day?

      It’s usually the moms who have conversations with me. Only they ask questions and don’t listen to the answers, or pretend to everyone else that I’ve said something else just to make them all laugh. They even look at my chest when they’re talking to me as if they expect me to be three feet tall. It’s such a stereotype. For the record, I’m six foot tall and we don’t really do the ‘age’ thing where I’m from; we come into existence as we are and grow spiritually rather than physically. It’s our brains that do the growing. Let’s just say my brain is pretty big by now, but there’s always room for more growth. I’ve been doing this job for a long, long time and I’m good at it. I’ve never failed a friend.

      The dads always say things under their breath to me when they think no one else is listening. For example, me and Barry went to Waterford on our summer holidays and we were lying on the beach on Brittas Bay and a lady walked by in a bikini. Barry’s dad said under his breath, ‘Getta loada that, Ivan.’ The dads always think that I agree with them. They always tell my best friends that I told them things like, ‘It’s good to eat vegetables. Ivan told me to tell you to eat your broccoli,’ and stupid things like that. My best friends know full well that’s not what I would say.

      But that’s grown-ups for you.

      Nineteen minutes and thirty-eight seconds later, Elizabeth called Luke for dinner. My tummy was grumbling and I was really looking forward to the pizza. I followed Luke down the long hall to the kitchen, looking in every room as we passed. The house was really quiet and our footsteps echoed. Every room was all white or beige, and so spotless that I began to get nervous about eating my pizza because I didn’t want to make a mess. As far as I could see, not only was there no sign of a child living in the house, there was no sign of anyone living in the house. It didn’t have what you’d call a homely feel.

      I liked the kitchen, though. It was warm from the sun and because it was surrounded by glass, it felt like we were sitting in the garden. Kind of like a picnic. I noticed the table was set for two people so I waited until told where to sit. The plates were big, black and shiny, the sun through the window made the cutlery sparkle and the two crystal glasses reflect rainbow colours on the table. There was a bowl of salad and a glass jug of water with ice and lemon in the centre of the table. Everything was resting on black marble place mats. Looking at how everything glistened, I was afraid even to get the napkins dirty.

      Elizabeth’s chair legs squeaked against the tiles as she sat down. She put her serviette on her lap. I noticed she’d changed into a chocolate-brown tracksuit to match her hair and complement her skin. Luke’s chair squeaked and he sat down. Elizabeth picked up the giant salad fork and spoon and began to gather leaves and baby tomatoes onto her plate. Luke watched her and frowned. Luke had a slice of margherita pizza on his plate. No olives. I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and shuffled nervously from foot to foot.

      ‘Is something wrong, Luke?’ Elizabeth asked, pouring dressing over her lettuce.

      ‘Where’s Ivan’s place?’

      Elizabeth paused, screwed the lid on tightly and put the jar back in the centre of the table. ‘Now, Luke, let’s not be silly,’ she said light-heartedly, not looking at him. I knew she was afraid to look.

      ‘I’m not being silly,’ Luke frowned. ‘You said Ivan could stay for dinner.’

      ‘Yes, but where is Ivan?’ She tried to keep the soft tone in her voice while sprinkling grated cheese over her salad. I could tell she didn’t want this to become an issue. She would knock it on the head straight away and there would be no more talk of invisible friends.

      ‘He’s standing right beside you.’

      Elizabeth slammed her knife and fork down and Luke jumped in his seat. She opened her mouth to silence him but was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. As soon as she left the room, Luke got up from his chair and took out a plate from the kitchen press. A big black one just the same as the other two. He placed a slice of pizza on the plate, took out the cutlery and a napkin and placed it on a third place mat beside him.

      ‘That’s your seat, Ivan,’ he said happily, and took a bite out of his pizza. A piece of melted cheese dribbled down his chin, looking like yellow string.

      To be truthful I wouldn’t have sat down at the table if it wasn’t for my grumbling stomach shouting at me to eat. I knew Elizabeth would be mad, but if I gobbled the food up real fast before she returned to the kitchen then she wouldn’t even know.

      ‘Want some olives on that?’ Luke asked, wiping his tomatoey face on his sleeve.

      I laughed and nodded. My mouth was watering.

      Elizabeth hurried back into the kitchen just as Luke was reaching up to the shelf.

      ‘What are you doing?’ she asked, rummaging through a drawer for something.

      ‘Getting the olives for Ivan,’ Luke explained. ‘He likes olives on his pizza, remember?’

      She looked across to the kitchen table and saw that it had been set for three. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. ‘Look, Luke, don’t you think it’s a waste of food, putting