Imagining Frost

(13) Thin Ice

            It was midnight when I checked my phone for messages. Flora had texted me about some random hot guy she had seen on television. My mother had texted me, telling me that my father and her wouldn't be returning home the next day, but the following day due to a sudden snow storm. Apparently, it was snowing outside by my house, too. Heavily. Admittedly, even though my parents had been gone for only a few days, I was starting to miss them. I didn't have any siblings to keep me company. My cousins lived hours away. The closest thing I had to family besides my parents was my grandmother. Obviously we weren't at the best terms at that moment.

            And then there was the fact that my only company for the night was an invisible Gypsy who's hair changed colors like a flipping mood ring.

            When I replied telling her that I loved her, guilt had risen in my chest. I wanted to tell her about Frost, especially since he was sitting right next to me on the couch, wearing my father's clothes, under our family quilt, eating a gigantic bowl of popcorn and cookies. How would I even start such a message? "Mom, there's an invisible man in my living room who's actually a mythical creature that has been stalking me. I let him in the house because I found him injured on the side of the road. He bleeds purple. Hope you don't mind that it's just me and him in the house. I don't consider him a stranger because he was my imaginary friend growing up."

            Yeah, I don't think so.

            Having Frost in my living room felt fifty times worse than throwing a banger for my birthday while they were gone. I was almost sure that bringing a mythical creature into my home was more serious than a few people throwing up on the kitchen floor and bad music mixes being played.

            Mom texted me how much she missed me, then quipped, You better not be having any boys over. You're not allowed to date until you're married.

            I squeezed the bridge of my nose and sighed.

            "I don't understand this show. That is not what a witch looks like. They are much uglier and unpleasant."

            Opening my eyes, I shifted under my blanket and turned my head towards the television. After flipping through the channels for what seemed like forever, Frost must have stopped on Charmed.

            I laughed. I guess witches existed in his world. Figured. "They aren't really witches, Frost."

            "Then explain to me how she just lit that man to flames. Surely, it was magic." He turned towards me, icy blue eyes large and glittering. There wasn't much light in the room, only the light emitted from the television screen and a dimmed, wooden corner lamp, yet I could still see his brilliant blue hair as well as I had in the kitchen. He was wearing my father's shirt and sweatpants, wool socks, as well as one of my super large sweatshirts that Flora and I snagged one day at the flea market for five dollars each.

            My father's clothes made Frost look human...ish.

            "Shows like this are just for entertainment purposes, " I explained, watching his reaction carefully. He appeared very confused, and I frowned. How the heck was I going to explain green screening to a Gypsy? "People go to school for acting to pretend to be different characters, and film studios add special effects to the video footage they record to make their stunts appear real."

            "They act like someone they are not?"

            "Yes. That's exactly what they do." I tugged my blanket up over my shoulders. Once in a while, there was an severe chill in the room that sent gooseflesh all along my arms and legs. "Wow, it just got really cold in here."