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TV? What? No. That can’t be right. I stare at Brenna, looking for…I don’t know what. A sign? Recognition? An awareness of some kind? Turning to Grammy she stares wide-eyed at her granddaughter, before shrugging at me.
“TV?”
She picks at the cupcake I’ve placed in front of her, running her finger through the buttercream witch’s hat. “Yeah, I think your living room must back on to my bedroom, and sometimes I hear your voice along with other voices. Like you’re talking to the TV. It’s completely normal Gabriel, I do it all the time.” She sucks her finger into her mouth and I almost lose my train of thought.
“Snap out of it, Gabe! This is weird!” Grammy hisses and Brenna’s head snaps up again.
I don’t say a word, instead I move around the counter, taking her hand in mine and leading her to my bedroom. That backs on to her bedroom.
“This is my room, if I’m right, your bedroom is on the other side.”
She frowns, then turns this way and that, looking for something. “Where’s the TV?”
“I don’t have a TV.” She gives me a “seriously?” look before rolling her eyes. “Seriously. Look.”
I lead her down the hall a little to the living room. That is perhaps the saddest room ever with a recliner, a small sofa and a bookcase with half of my books unpacked.
“Huh. Do you have a lot of visitors or something? Because I hear you and them at all hours. No, there has to be something weird going on here.”
“There is. I talk to dead people. And for some reason, you can hear them too.”
Brenna
I snort and my brain fizzes a little. I’m unsure if it’s in a good way or a bad way because the hot guy I have a crush on might be a little bit crazy. I stare at him and my thoughts bounce around like the little ball in the roulette wheel.
That was one of my favorite weekends with Grammy. Winning big on the roulette table, eating our weight in salt taffy and hitting the mean streets of Atlantic City with her retired lady friends.
“Brenna?”
Gabriel snaps me out of the memory and I blurt out the first thought that comes to mind. “Are you like that Tyler Whatshisname? The celebrity medium?”
He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind which is odd because I’m not the one who talks to dead people. OK, maybe that’s not true because I talk to Grammy all the time, but you know. In a normal way.
“Um, not quite. Shit.” He turns to the doorway, “How the hell do I explain this?”
I look over my shoulder, expecting to see someone there, but there isn’t anything there. I have to blink a couple of times because my vision makes the hall a little blurry. Maybe I need glasses.
“Ah nope, no way. I am not saying that,” he exclaims and I think he might be having a mental breakdown.
Except, I’m sure I just heard Grammy again.
“Use your words, Gabe.”
“Wait.” Spinning in place, I tilt my head before moving toward the door, trying to track down the sound I just heard.
Gabriel groans, sitting heavily on his bed. “I look like a goddamned crazy person.”
“No, you don’t look like a goddamned crazy person. You just sound like one. Kinda.” A voice, sounding a lot like Grammy’s whispers from beside me.
You know what you’re hearing. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist.
“Why are you the worst inner voice ever?” I blurt out loud before slapping a hand over my mouth.
Gabriel's head snaps up as he stares at me. “Who are you talking to?”
“No one!” I say quickly. Great. Now we’re both going mad.
You’re not mad. Annoying, yes, but not mad.
