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nine my parents decided I was too old for imaginary friends. They sat me down and ordered that I stop talking to people who weren’t there. I tried to explain that the people were real, but my father was furious. He thought I was lying. I started ignoring the spirits. By this time I knew they were ghosts, and I was starting to realize most if not all people didn’t see them.”
    The blonde lady seated next to Mr. Kincaid rises and strides over to the small kitchenette. When she returns, she places a bottle of water on the table in front of me.
    “Thank you.” I crack open the bottle and take a long drink of the cool liquid, allowing it to soothe both my nerves and my dry throat.
    “Take your time, Kacie,” the blonde lady says when she returns to her seat, “I’m Anna Kincaid, and I really do understand what you’ve been through.” She gazes at me through soft blue eyes full of understanding. If only my mother had been so open and eager to listen.
    “I continued to ignore the spirits for several months, but they were making it increasingly difficult. It seemed the more I ignored them, the more they craved my attention. We were at the park one day and a particularly pesky spirit wouldn’t leave me alone. I finally gave in and started talking to him to the utter mortification of my parents. I was grounded for two weeks.” I pause again, taking a sip of the water as I try to prepare myself to tell the rest of the story. “A week later I was alone at the kitchen table when the spirit of a woman appeared in the chair across from me. She was an older woman with such a comforting presence. She told me not to worry, that everything would be okay. For some reason I believed her. But she was wrong, very wrong.”
    My breath catches. Painful pressure spreads across my chest. A burning sensation in my nose lets me know tears aren’t far behind. The girl seated next to me places her hand on my arm.
    “I don’t have any abilities,” she says in a soft voice. “I can only imagine what you’ve been through. But I will say it’s not fair the way some people treat mediums. People are so willing to accept a God they can’t see who can work miracles, but tell them ghosts exist and the shit hits the fan.”
    Quiet chuckles and a few snickers draw my gaze to the group. For years I prayed to find someone who understood. Now I have a room full of them. I can do this.
    “My mother walked in while I was talking to the spirit. Her eyes grew wide, and it seemed like she could see the spirit too. I felt so betrayed. She yelled at me for lying along with my father. If she could see ghosts then how could she not stand up for me, help my father see that I wasn’t lying, help me understand why I could see them when others couldn’t? How could she not be there for me when I needed her so badly? I asked her if she could see the ghost…”
    Closing my eyes, I swallow around the lump in my throat. Something cool touches my hand. When I open my eyes, I see the girl next to me pushing the water bottle into my palm. I drain the remaining contents of the bottle before I’m able to continue.
    “My mother backed out of the room and fled upstairs without answering. She packed her bags and left that night, filing for divorce a few weeks later. I haven’t seen her since. She calls once in a while but only talks to my brother. It’s as if I ceased to exist in her mind at all.”
    I pause again, blinking my eyes in a failed attempt to keep the tears at bay. Several tears trickle down my cheeks. The room is silent, everyone waiting for me to finish my story, though I have a feeling they already know the outcome.
    “Dad blamed me for the divorce. My mother filed for joint custody of my brother, Gavin, but didn’t even want visitation rights with me. One night when Gavin was away, Dad got drunk and finally told me how much he hated me for ruining his marriage. He apologized for weeks afterward, said he didn’t really mean it. But I know