The Friend

As I headed towards the university, I wondered if my friend Zoey would skip the theater she was usually supposed to do when we met. We ended up at the same university, but we knew each other from kindergarten. Zoey, unlike me, was an energetic, crazy talker with a head full of not always the best ideas, but very creative. Anyway, that was to be expected of her as a student of fine arts.

Although we had known each other for years, sometimes I wasn't sure if my friend really believed that I was a medium. More than once she acted as if she was taking it completely seriously, and there were times when she joked about it and looked at me like I was crazy.

We met for coffee before class whenever it suited us. She was already waving to me from afar, waiting in front of the coffee shop, the best one on campus. I sighed heavily and waved her away, still had a long way to go. Seeing her in such a joyful mood, I certainly will not avoid the theater. As Tristan was with me most days, I looked for him and made a sour face.

"Ready for your role," I asked.

"As never in my life," the ghost growled."

This is what it was like every time I met Zoey. We didn't see each other for a while during the exams, so she ran up to me this bit and threw herself at me with a hug.

"Cami, Cami, I missed you so much," she almost shouted in my ear.

"Yes, I missed you too," I replied honestly but pushed her a little away from me. "But you don't have to shout like that."

"Do we have company today?" she asked in a whisper, giggling like a teenager talking to her friend about some big secret. "Hey, Tristan!" she called and turned her eyes somewhere to my left.

I didn't like it when she asked me something and didn't even wait for an answer. I sighed and pointed my finger at my right side. Zoey immediately turned to that side and waved. Tristan knew he would not stop until he did something while proving his presence. He came up behind her, took a few deep breaths, gathered energy, and picked up a strand of her hair first on one side and then on the other. She clapped cheerfully and I made an eloquent sign to show her where the ghost was now.

"You know, Tristan, I'd love to meet you, but unfortunately I have no way. Cami keeps you only to herself," she said, offended. "She won't even try to show you somehow."

"I won't comment on it," I muttered under my breath.

Each time she accused me of something like that, and I didn't want to explain that she couldn't get everything she wanted. She complained that, after all, as an artistic soul, her mind is very open to all kinds of phenomena, but she couldn't understand that it didn't work that way. Tristan rolled his eyes at first, but then a smile appeared on his face, signaling that he had an idea and I didn't want to know what it was.

"Zoey, let's go inside, I really need coffee," I said, taking my friend's arm and turning to Tristan. "And you do not eavesdrop and won't be up to anything."

"I? Being up to something?" The spirit of the young man laughed.