My own invisible friend was a girl who lived in our bathtub. I spoke to her whenever I visited. I usually admonished her for being stupid. That was about all I could remember, until the other night, when I was in the bathroom, rummaging around looking for another roll of toilet paper. As hope waned, I heard a voice.
It: “You haven’t changed at all.”
Me (from deep within the dark cupboard): “Ow.”
It: “Put on a few pounds, but I’d recognize you anywhere.”
Me (extracting self from shelf): “Who the hell are you? More to the point, how did you get in here… huh?” Eyes moving from side to side. No one there.
It: “You really don’t remember?”
Me: “I refuse to be drawn into a conversation with a figment of my imagination.”
It: “Why not, you do it all the time.”
Me: “Because I don’t want the neighbours to hear me. Through the vents, you know? In the old house when I was a kid, we were detached.”
It (crowing): “So you do remember!”
Me (defeated): “Aye. How come you.. Ah.. stopped by?”
It: “I didn’t.”
Me: “You didn’t?”
It: “I didn’t stop by. I’ve been with you the whole time.”
Me: “All the time? Every place I’ve lived? All the… oh my gawd.”
It: “Yes, it’s been quite an education.”
Me: “I bet.”
It: “I’ve had a bit of trouble with the Union over you.” There’s the sound of someone dragging on a cigarette.
Me: “Really? No smoking in here. Please.”
It: “It’s invisible. You can’t smell it or see it. Don’t worry.” Flips her ash into the tub.
Me: “I heard that.” Sighs. “What’s this about the Union.”
It: “They have rules you know. They wanted to assign someone else to this beat. Said I was getting jaded. That there were too many hours with no reports followed by logbooks that rivalled the Tower of Pisa. Said I couldn’t possibly handle it myself anymore. That they’d need to send someone stronger. Someone who wouldn’t take the B.S.” Drops her smoke onto the porcelain and crushes it with her big toe.
Me (sitting down on the side of the tub): “Wow. I can’t believe it.”
It: “You defy description. They have no category in which you fit. They figured it was me. Then Ralph came out for a month. He went on long term disability the morning after you had that bagpiper over for supper.”
Me (laughs): “No doubt.”
That’s another story. One I might share one night when I’ve had more than one. Not that I drink often, but Irish Whiskey is rather lovely. And no, he didn’t wear a kilt. More’s the pity. (Why? Because I might have been able to actually ascertain what actually is worn under a kilt. No. Not by looking. By asking him. Sheesh.)
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