I wake up with a start. It’s the middle of the night and there’s a man in my bedroom. I blink rapidly. No, I’m not dreaming – a man I’ve never seen before is in my room. Shit!
Slowly, my eyes snake over to Angel. She’s still asleep next to me. Okay, keep calm, keep calm, pretend you’re still asleep and you can jump this motherfucker. I force my breath to slow down.
Suddenly, I jump up, grab the baseball bat next to my bed and swing wildly. Piñata first, questions later.
Wham! Rib cage first. He doubles up in pain.
Bam! I whack him on the head. He goes down like a bean bag.
I stand, legs apart, bat above my shoulder, breathing rapidly, ready to swing again. This time, I’m going for gold - right for his nuts.
With my eyes trained on him, I reach for my iPhone to call 911. Damn phone is password protected. I key in my password and just as I’m about to dial the cops, the dude slowly rises to his feet.
You gotta be kidding! Those blows should have at least cracked a couple of ribs and bruised his pancreas, whatever that is and wherever that is. Damn! I should have went for the nuts first.
He smiles at me like he’s from one of those silvery, slippery characters from a Schwarzenegger movie or something.
Time to wipe that smile off his mug. Round two. I raise my bat again.
Wait!” he says.
“Get the fuck out of my room, asshole! Now!”
“Relax, Burn, relax.”
Okay, so he knows my name. Ninety percent of women are raped by someone they know. Shit!
“Put down the bat, Burn. You can’t hurt me.”
In my most intimidating voice, I say, “Wanna bet, bitch?”
He rolls his eyes then gives a long sigh. “Seriously,” he mutters, “the people they give the gift to these days …”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything. You need to put the bat down and …”
“Like I will. It’s the middle of the night and you’re in my room. I don’t know you, motherfucker.” He’d better not rush me ’cause if he does, I’m in trouble.
“Relax. I’m not gonna rush you.”
I never said that out loud. How did he know what I was thinking?
“I can hear your thoughts, Burn,” he says. “Like you hear other people’s thoughts.”
I blink rapidly and shake my head. This is all so weird. How the hell…?
“Yes, it is weird but it’s true, and your sister, even if she wakes up, she won’t see me. So you can relax.”
My eyes sweep over him in the dimly lit room. He’s fortyish, with dark wavy hair and bright, grey eyes. He wears a light blue Tee and jeans. Not a bad looking dude.
“Thank you,” he says.
Okay, he’s doing it again - reading my mind.
“I come in peace.”
“You come in peace? What are you – a fucking Red-Indian? You don’t look it, white boy.”
He smiles and takes a step towards me. “You’re a funny one. Let’s talk about your gift.”
“Gift? What the fuck you talking ’bout?” I lower my bat an inch. I mean, if he’s going to give me a present, that will change things.
“You have a gift, Burn – you hear people’s thoughts and …”
That’s a gift? I raise my bat again.
“…that’s a gift.”
“You come to talk to me about a ‘gift’ in the middle of the night? You on drugs or something?”
“Drugs … mmm.” He strokes his chin and appears thoughtful. “Talking about drugs, Burn – you did marijuana the other night with your friends.”
Who uses the word marijuana these days? Except the cops when they appear on TV bragging about how they busted a crop grower.
“You a cop?”
“What?”
“You wearing a wire? Do I need to watch my words?”
“No, Burn, I’m not a cop and no, I am not wearing …why would I use a wire?”
I shrug. “Look, most teenagers do it. It wasn’t like I was packaging it and selling the shit. I just smoke to chill. Big deal. I have stresses, I have issues. I’m seventeen – well, almost, and I live in this house. Take a look around you, man. You blame me?”
He shakes his head from side-to-side. “Not when you have a gift, Burn. You can’t do that.”
“Man, you keep talking about a gift. My birthday was in …”
“Burn, listen to me - you hear people’s thoughts, you hear their whispers. That is a gift. It is something sacred.”
“That’s a gift? You call that a gift? My head buzzes randomly like static with people’s thoughts - crazy stuff at times and you call that a gift?”
He nods.
I roll my eyes. “I don’t understand –who sent you? ET?”
He smiles. ‘No. Burn, you are supposed to use your gift for good. Now when you disrespect it - smoke cannabis, smoke cigarettes and consume alcohol, you are compromising the gift. That cannot happen.”
“But I’m a kid. Kids do stuff like that.”
“You’re almost seventeen, Burn. Not a kid anymore.”
“Mff. Look, I appreciate all this gift and all, but I really don’t want it. Take it back and …”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“But … but … but, I should have a choice. All kids should have a choice.”
He falls silent. I sit on the bed, a bit spooked with this midnight visitor asking me to live life like a monk, eh, nun.
I fold my arms and squint at him. “How do you know all this stuff about me?”
He shrugs. “I just know. I know a lot.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me ’bout it. About me?”
“Well,’ he scratches his nose, “I know that your parents died in a car crash, and that you and your younger sister live with your aunt …”
“Huh huh, huh huh …”
“I know you have anger issues …”
“WHAAAT?!” I glare at him.
He shrinks back, his eyes wide.
“Kidding.”
He gives a small smile. “Black father, white mother…”
“Huh huh …”
“… and I know that since you were little, you’ve heard people’s thoughts and at times you were scared.”
I fall silent and bite my lower lip.
“I’ll be shadowing you to help you out.”
“Shadowing me? I don’t …”
“A gift is given to someone with a pure heart, Burn. In this world of obstacles, you may need a mentor, a guide at times. That’s what I’ll be to you.”
I cock my head and look at him. “Are you like, dead?
“I am … I am in a different realm.”
It’s 3:30 AM and he’s using words like ‘realm’?
“Allow me to explain: you and I can see each other, but others, they can’t hear or see me and I’m not alive, but I’m not dead either.”
“Oh greeeeat. I have an imaginary friend.”
He gives several small shrugs. “You could look at it that way.”
“Awesome. Problem is, you’re supposed to lose the imaginary friends when you reach double digits, right?”
“Look, Burn, whenever you need me, I will be there.” Sounds like the words to a Celine Dion song.
“Yeah? So, like what - you gonna give me an Ouija board so I can locate you?”
He shakes his head.
“A walkie-talkie? A flare gun?”
He rolls his eyes. “Whenever you need help, just call and I will be there.”
I crane my neck to look out the window. “You got a magic carpet, a Batmobile …?”
He shakes his head. “I have to go now and you have to continue sleeping, so be good and call me, okay?”
“Can I tell my friends about my awesome gift? You know, the one that doesn’t allow you to be a youngster, a kid anymore?”
“No. Nobody is to know until you turn twenty-one.”
“Why?”
“It’s the way it is. Protects you – prevents people who know about your gift from exploiting you.”
“Aww! That sucks. I would love to tell my friends about it. They’d think I was sooo cool. ”
“This gift is not about being cool. Now, I have to be go …"
“Wait! I’m kinda confused about …”
“Look, don’t worry about things,” he says in a reassuring voice. “One step at a time. No need for information overload.”
“Oh, okay, imaginary friend.”
“Call me Hawk.”
“’Cause you fly?”
“Because, that is what my parents named me. With a smile, he vanishes.
Hey, maybe I can win at poker? Gambling? Lottery? I mean how cool is this gift? Wow! I’m gonna be so freakin’ rich I’m gonna buy Angel and me everything – all the shit I never had. I’m gonna even buy me a …a cloud. Because I can.
Wonder if he left a PDF or an instruction manual for this gift?
I can’t wait for tomorrow when I can use my gift to make us some real money. I fall asleep with a smile on my face.
When I wake up the next morning, there is no sign that I had a visitor during the night. I look to the side. My baseball bat is in its usual place. It was all a dream.
I turn to face the wall and draw the sheet up to my chin. Ah well, maybe I have to forget about winning at poker, but at least I can drink and smoke without worrying about compromising shit.