Caleb

I don't know which parts I like most about the mystery boy. When he is in his room, studying or writing, entirely focused, lost even, in what he is doing. It looks like the world around him doesn't exist anymore. It feels like even if we were under normal circumstances, he wouldn't see me anyway, too far away for anyone to reach. Or when he is talking to people. Either people in the room that I can't see, or on the phone. In these moments, I can see his smart, witty side much better. He makes me laugh a lot even if he won't ever know it.

I do know how pathetic that is to be so smitten by someone I won't ever interact with, that might not even be real. But since I can't open up to people, that might be the best I will ever get.

Mary says that I will grow out of it. The shyness. I don't know if that's true. But if it means that I will be able to talk to him if I ever meet someone like him, then I really hope it is.

I get out of the shower, put on some pajama pants, and walk back to my room. He is not here. I sit on the desk, facing the door. I always liked to sit higher up, but I also think that it means I will be able to see him walk in if he shows up tonight.

Which is stupid. He is probably already in the room. I know I can't always see him and he sometimes just appears out of nowhere.

Lately, I have wondered a lot if he can see me too, sometimes. I don’t think so. He has never once looked in my direction, he hasn’t looked like someone who had just lived something incredible… And besides… who would want to look at me even if they were given the chance?

My phone buzzes. I look down. It’s the boys from the swimming team sending me an update on their evening. I can’t believe I made it to the team. Even after months of just occasional swims at the local pool, I still have it in me, apparently. That made me feel so good. Proud. It’s not a familiar feeling. Anyway. They were going out tonight and they invited me. I decline, saying that I had too much homework and that my mom wouldn’t let me anyway. I didn’t add that she wasn’t really my mom and that she would probably let me go if I asked, but that I don’t do well with large gatherings, that even if I like them and I’m sure we are going to be friends, we are not there yet and that makes things harder for me, I didn’t tell them either that I really do have homework to do because I am falling behind in a lot of subjects and the regular change of school didn’t help, and I especially didn’t tell them that I couldn’t come because I don’t want to miss an opportunity to learn more about my ghost, or even just see him…

Still. They are sending me pictures of their evening so I would feel included, and I find it really nice of them.

I hear the door open but I don’t see the light from the corridor. My door didn’t open. I don’t know what the rules are, but his interactions don’t always impact my objects. Just sometimes. I don’t look at him straight away because I want to reply to the boys before I forget. I guess I should at least try to give real-life priority over whatever this is.

Just as I press ‘send’, I hear him say: "Hey you. I'm glad you're here."

I look up, surprised. He doesn’t mean me, right? There must be someone else in the room. Someone I can’t see.

But he is looking straight at me and his happy smile turning into a shocked face. “You… heard that?” he asks and I simply nod, unable to find words right now. He sees me. He knows me. Has he seen me this entire time? Have we just been out of sync so far?

“I… You… are you real?” he asks.

“I think so,” I reply and he smiles. I don’t know if this is because of my messy reply or because we are having our first ever conversation.

“This is crazy,” he says softly. I guess he doesn’t want his family to later ask him who he was talking to.

“I thought I made you up,” I admit.

“Same.”

For a moment, we just look at each other in silence. The truth is that I might still be imagining him. Maybe I’m just one step crazier. But the way he looks at me, like he is trying to understand this situation as much as I am, makes me believe that he is real, and he is struggling with this impossible reality too. I suddenly feel less lonely.

He takes a step forward and lifts his hand, a question in his eyes. I nod and lift my hand too. He takes another step forward and his fingers are now so close to mine. In a second, we will be touching. My heart is beating so loudly that I’m sure he can hear it.

It was so predictable… I should have known this was coming… And yet, as soon as he disappears, I feel so deeply disappointed. Because part of me thought that we could touch. But I didn’t even feel his skin brush against mine. We should have talked instead of pushing our luck. What if that was our only chance?

On the other hand… he used to disappear when I looked at him. Now I can stare at him. Now I can talk to him. Maybe touching will come.

And I don’t mean… it’s not… I just mean touching him once to know that he is real. Other types of touching… I’m not letting my mind go there…

That’s also when I realize that I am still half-naked. Great. This is mortifying.

Even when I wondered… I always thought that I was the only one seeing him… how many times have I made a fool of myself in front of him?

Liam

No, no, no… How stupid can I be? Why did I try to touch him? How did I not notice that it would make him disappear? Why do I have zero ounces of self-control? I just… wanted to make him a little bit more real…

And I swear it’s not because he was… looking like that. Sure, that didn’t help me think, but… When I raised my arm, I wasn’t attracted to him in that way. I just… wanted to connect with him. The only other person in the world (worlds?) who understands this crazy aspect of my life…

Why did I rush things? We could have talked. I am craving the chance to talk to him even more than the opportunity to touch him. So why didn’t I seize it when I could? What if I never see him again? Or what if I do see him again but it’s in silence again? What if that was our only chance?

I’m feeling a bit sick.

He was just there. He talked to me. He talked to me! He even made a little joke. I know this isn’t such a massive thing, but I know he is shy, and I somehow feel a little flattered. Oh, God… how is he so deep under my skin already?

And he knew who I was… so he has been seeing me… I started to be a little careful about what I do in my room lately and it’s nice to know that I wasn't just paranoid. Still… Has he seen me as often as I saw him? More? Have I done anything stupid?

I am less quiet than he is. Has he overheard any conversation? Which ones? Does he know that I am gay?

Ugh. If only I had talked to him instead of trying to touch him.

I am so close to crying when I see him again a day later and that he can neither hear nor see me. Did I blow our only chance?

I wake up oddly happy. Maybe not happy but… zen. Relaxed. Calm. Any other synonym you want to put in there. I don't know why, but I welcome the feeling. It is much nicer than being annoyed at the jerks from school, disappointed in myself for the way I handled my ghost, or hurt because of the way my parents look at me…

I open my eyes and there, right there, an inch from my face, there he is. Waking up too. I think we opened our eyes at the same time. We both gasp, surprised, and he disappears.

Okay… this was awkward. On many different levels. But it also means that we had another shared moment. It makes me hopeful. I will see him again and, this time, I will keep my distance…

As it turns out, I didn't even have to wait that long. When I get home that evening — and dash to my room before even interacting with any member of my family — he is there.

He is… floating. Sort of. I'm sure he is sitting on something in his world but seen from here… he is levitating, crossed legs, maybe twenty-five inches from the floor.

"Hey," I whisper, hopeful but also remembering how heartbreaking it was when he didn't reply a few days ago.

I feel so insanely relieved when he looks up, surprised and happy.

"Hey," he replies.

I shut the door. I don't want anyone to think I'm talking to myself. At least with the closed door, I could always say that I was on the phone with Maisie.

I sit on my bed, opposite the room from him, and I ask: "What are you sitting on?"

"My bed."

"Isn't your bed pretty much exactly where mine is?"

"It was. I moved it after this morning."

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," I apologize.

"Don't be ridiculous. It wasn't your fault. And it's not the reason. It's more… I didn't want you to disappear again just because we were too close when you showed up."

"From where I stand, you're the one disappearing," I joke.

He smiles and says: "You look like you're floating."

"You too. It's a bit weird, isn't it?"

"Maybe not more than the rest of it," he wisely replies.

"No. Probably not."

We stay silent a moment, simply looking at each other, enjoying a shared moment. And, this time, none of us is stupid enough to walk to the other.

"Do you see me often?" he asks and for a few minutes, we share stories about suddenly sharing a bedroom with a ghost-like apparition. It is reassuring to know that he found it scary too but didn’t panic either.

“So…” I finally say.

“So?”

“There is one question we need to answer before all others…”

He smiles and something tells me that he knows exactly what I want to ask. “I’m Caleb.”

“Liam.”

“Nice to meet…”

But I don’t hear the end of his sentence. He disappeared already.

Caleb. It will be nice to put a name on my daydreams from now on…

 ...