My mother always said I was a strange boy. I was never into sports or girls. I was more likely to be found with my nose in a book. She didn't try to understand me. Nobody could. My little sister frequently asked me what I was doing. More often than not, I'd simply answer, "I don't know." But it was true . . . or at least most of the time, anyway. I was really interested in the afterlife and the cosmos, and I couldn't expect her to understand.
I often felt compelled to look out the window. I'd notice things that no one else would. And then I'd wonder about them. But there was one thing . . . one thing I never expected to see.
I saw her first from my window. She stared at me from the window of the house next door, and I couldn't tear my eyes from her. Her pale face was like the essence of moonlight and her dark eyes were like pieces of a night sky. Her light blonde hair reminded me of rays of sunshine, but much colder.
I knew there was something different about her. None of the girls I had seen at my high school gave off that icy aura. I didn't exactly feel happy staring at her, but I continued anyway.
I waited for her to move. To blink. To breathe. But she kept as still as a statue.
I flinched as I heard pounding on my door. My mom wouldn't be home. I was alone, staying home because I was sick. My heart hammered in my ribcage. I slowly walked towards the door. I took a deep breath and opened it.
It was my cat, Max. I exhaled a sigh of relief and walked back to the window.
She was gone.
I glared at Max. Because of him, I had lost the girl. I felt enraged. I was about to thunder after him and chase him away when I felt a sudden chill.
I looked back at the window to see that it had clouded up and letters had appeared. I read the message over and over.
Can you see me?
The letters faded as a drizzle began outside. My sensed felt chilled. What had I just seen?
I stretched out onto my bed and thought about it. Max hopped up beside me. I felt the warmth restored as I patted him on the head and let him face-rub my hand. I didn't feel mad at Max anymore, but I still was frustrated. My eyes and my brain disagreed with what I had just seen. The memory of the girl faded then, but still lingered at the back of my mind.
I didn't see her again until the next Saturday. I had glanced out the window, and she caught my eye. I looked again to make sure she was there.
She was.
Our eyes locked. It felt like she was looking into my soul. It was then that I realized that I wanted to see her up close . . . I wanted to be with her. It was like someone flipped a switch and I fell in love with her. I was drawn to her eerie beauty, and I wanted to see her every day.
I wondered if she was thinking the same thing. I could've sworn that I saw a smile flash across her face for a moment, but it disappeared as quickly as it formed.
I pressed my hand against the glass longingly. A downpour started and she vanished once more. She left a message on my window again.
Who are you?
I decided that I had to visit her. I couldn't let her slip through my fingers. I walked to the bathroom to look in the mirror. I stared at the brown-eyed, auburn haired boy in my reflection. I wasn't exactly anything special. I combed my hair (as if it mattered).
"What are you doing?" my sister asked. She had somehow developed a skill of sneaking up on people, and she used it often.
"Nothing, Lisa."
"Nothing? It doesn't look like nothing, Michael," she said, strangely sounding like my mother.
"Really. It's nothing." I was lying to her again.
I put the comb away and left her standing at the top of the stairs. I looked back up at her to see her roll her eyes. She went back to her room, so I continued down the steps. I headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" my mom inquired. She was waiting for me at the bottom of the staircase. It's funny how moms always seem to know where you are.
"Out," I answered simply.
She sighed and let me go. She typically gave in when I gave that answer. She'd, once again, not really try to understand me.
I walked out the door. It wouldn't take long to get to the neighbor's house, but it seemed to take forever. The anticipation built up as I rang the doorbell.
Ms. Smith answered the door. I didn't know her very well, but she was one of my mom's friends.
"Hello, Michael. How can I help you?"
I realized that I hadn't thought of what to say. My mind was freezing up.
"Michael? Michael? MICHAEL?"
"Can I see your daughter?"
She raised an eyebrow. "I don't have a daughter. I'm not even married."
