“It is Real” by Robert Andreotta

It Is Real

Robert Andreotta*

It only comes in the night, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real. I never saw it, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real either. Everyone tells me it does, but it doesn’t. My mom told me it wasn’t real first. She looked in the closet and said it wasn’t there. She checked under the bed and said it wasn’t there either. Then she kissed me on the head like that was that, and said good night, and that she loved me, and turned off the lights, and left, and she closed the door behind her. She closed the door behind her, and she turned off the lights. She didn’t see it under the bed, so it must not be real. Does she really think ghosts hide under the bed? They lived in the house longer than she ever did, she doesn’t think they have better hiding spots by now? This one hides in the windows. I don’t know how he does it, but he does. I never see him; it wouldn’t be a good hiding place if I saw him, but I hear him. Every night after my mom comes in and looks in the closet, and looks under the bed, and kisses me on the head, and says good night, and turns off the lights, and closes the door behind her, he comes out. He sounds like a sweaty fat guy that’s smushed between two pieces of glass so tight that he can’t move his arms, so he has to slither his way out. He slips for a second or two, then the sweat dries up and he squeaks, then he gets to another sweaty part and slips again, then he dries up again and he squeaks again. There’s a big thud when he finally falls out. It shakes my whole room and I can’t believe that no one else can hear him, but no one else can, and they say that means he isn’t real. But it doesn’t. He grunts too. It sounds like that one time my brother got hit in the belly with a basketball and it puffed out all his air and he had to sit down. One time he grunted and farted too, and I laughed. But he got mad, and I stopped laughing real quick. “Shut the fuck up you little shit.” That’s when I found out he was a mean ghost. I didn’t laugh anymore after that, even when he farted again. No one cared until I told them he touched me. Then they cared a lot. I had to go see a doctor then and she asked me a bunch of weird questions about my mom, and my brother, and my uncle, but she didn’t ask me about the ghost even once. Then I asked her if she was a real doctor and she said yes and asked me why. I told her that my daddy said real doctors wear white

coats. She didn’t like when I said that. She pretended she didn’t care but I could tell she did. I told her I wanted to talk about the ghost, but she just kept asking about my family. She didn’t say it wasn’t real, but whenever I talked about it, she acted like she didn’t hear me or something and that was even worse. I broke my brother’s Xbox last year and he acted like he couldn’t hear me for two whole days and that was the worst. The doctor talked to me at least, even though she only wanted to hear about my uncle and not the ghost. After the doctor my mom got real mad at Uncle Ray. She pretended she wasn’t mad, but I could tell. She pretended she wasn’t mad at my daddy too, but he has to wait outside in his car now when he comes to pick us up, and she doesn’t talk to him anymore. She’s bad at pretending. She doesn’t talk to my uncle anymore either. Maybe he broke one of her toys. One night I heard her yelling and the next day my uncle had scratches all over his face. I asked him if my mom scratched him but he said he got them fighting the ghost. I didn’t believe him at first but then the ghost stopped showing up for a while so maybe my uncle did fight him. It came back though. It always comes back. That’s how I know it’s real. It didn’t touch me the first night. He just stood there. I think that was even worse. When he touches me, I know he’ll go away soon at least, but that first night he just stood there. I pretended to be sleeping and I kept my eyes squeezed shut but I knew he was still there because he was breathing real loud. He didn’t go back in the window this time either. He walked out my door. I heard the door open, and I thought my mom was checking on me at first, but then the door shut and when I listened close I couldn’t hear his breathing anymore, so I knew he left. Anyway, that’s it. I have a ghost and no one believes me. I told my mom and she checks under my bed. I told my dad, but I think he only really listens to my brother. And I told my brother, but he just tells me to stop being a baby. The doctor wouldn’t even talk about it. No one believes me, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real. *