Talk To Me

Chapter twenty-eight

Twenty years ago

The summer seemed almost over as Oliver walked across the damp grass toward the house. The frog quirked and moved between his small hands.

"What are you doing?" a sudden voice forced Oliver to jump.

"Lydia." He glanced at the girl through his shoulder. "I have a frog. Do you want to see it?" He turned around, stretching out his hands. "She keeps going near the road and mom says the road is dangerous."

"My mom says the same thing," the girl agreed.

The green frog slipped from Oliver's hands as he rubbed his belly with his left hand. He groaned slightly. "I think I had too much syrup with my pancakes." He looked at the grass. "And my frog got away." Oliver glanced around. "Where is your mom, Lydia?"

The girl followed Oliver's actions and glanced around. "I don't know," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"You look strange." He rubbed his belly. "Anyway, when did you get back from your trip?" Oliver scanned the girl's appearance.

Lydia's short black hair stuck to her jaw, and her lips seemed blue. The complexion of the girl's skin surprised Oliver since both kids spend the majority of summer bathing in the sun. And before her trip, the girl seemed very tanned. She wore her yellow bathing suit, but Oliver didn't see her towel anywhere.

"I don't think I am." Lydia shook her head.

"I don't understand." He squinted his eyes.

"I was wading in the lake and thinking of you." The girl smiled. "I think I slipped, and I tried to remember how you taught me to swim and," Lydia vanished in front of Oliver.

Oliver stood still for five minutes and stared at the empty space which the girl left after suddenly disappearing. A slight shiver went through his body as the wind blew in his face. His gray eyes watered from the tepid impact, and he blinked two times.

"Mom!" he shouted as he regained the ability to move. "Mom!" he yelled again, running toward the house.

He reached the porch quickly, remembering not to touch the handrail as he stuffed his small hands into brown pants pockets. And climbed the stairs as the front doors opened.

"Oly," Sophia said, wiping her hands into her pink apron. "Daddy told you not to use the front door, the railing is not dry yet."

"I'm not touching it." Oliver shrugged his shoulders. "Lydia was here."

"Where is she?" The woman looked through the front yard.

"I don't know," he mumbled.

"I need to know if we have guests, Oly. Was Missis Baker with her?"

"No." Oliver plucked his bottom lip.

"So where is Lydia?" Sophia asked firmly.

"She disappeared just like that." Oliver clicked his index finger with his thumb.

"Oh, Oly." Sophia shook her head. "You are watching way too many movies. Lydia comes back tomorrow. I know you miss her." She placed her hand on Oliver's shoulder. "And perhaps you just imagined that she visited you." She pulled Oliver closer to her. "Come on, I baked you cookies."

"Is it chocolate chip cookies?" Oliver glanced at his mother's face.

"Yes, baby." She smiled, guiding Oliver toward the kitchen.

Sophia held a phone against her ear as Oliver walked into the kitchen the next morning. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her left ear, glancing at Oliver.