I'm sitting across from you
I'm dreaming of the things I do
I don't speak, you don't know me at all
For fear of what you might do
I say nothing, but stare at you
And I'm dreaming I'm tripping over you
Truth be told, my problem's solved
You mean the world to me, but you'll never know
You could be cruel to me
While we're risking the way that I see you
Conversation's not me at all
I'm hesitating, only to fall
I'm waiting; I'm hating everyone
Could it be you feel for me?
In any possible similarity
If it's so, how would I know?
You'll never know me at all
But I see you
"I See You," MIKA
A continuation of a scene from "Gilligan's Personal Magnetism."
I See You
Gilligan sat on the table in his hut watching Mary Ann as she looked for him.
You could learn a lot about a person if you stared at them long enough.
Gilligan had spent the better part of the morning staring at Mary Ann and the other castaways.
You could stare at someone for hours and notice a million things – without being noticed yourself – if you were invisible.
At lunch, Gilligan noticed the way the Skipper's eyes weren't twinkling mischievously like they normally did when he told a bawdy story that he claimed the girls shouldn't hear. He was forcing it out, laughing way too loud and asking, "Isn't that right, little buddy?" way too often, trying to repeatedly reassure himself that Gilligan was still there.
He noticed with a grin how Mr. Howell didn't eat his mackerel, but pushed it around his plate and hid it under his pineapple slices, but told Mary Ann that it was delicious anyway.
He noticed the loving way Mrs. Howell proudly pat her husband's cheek when he said something particularly witty. It was different than the way she pat his own cheek when she called him "dear boy" after he didn't ruin something of hers.
Gilligan noticed how Ginger would smile shyly after the Professor said anything remotely nice to her. It was different than the broad smiles she pasted on her face when she wanted something from him and caused Gilligan to back into a tree.
He noticed how the Professor would sometimes drift off, a look of vague hopelessness and frustration appearing on his brow as he pondered. The scientist always looked so confident and poised and this rare look of vulnerability would disappear whenever he addressed the others.
Gilligan noticed how whenever somebody mentioned his name, Mary Ann would automatically smile, very briefly, before managing to arrange the appropriate expression on her face.
He was in the middle of noticing that her eyes looked like puddles of melted chocolate when he suddenly realized that everyone was staring at him and was very thankful at that moment that he was invisible. Mary Ann had evidently asked him a question and was staring wide-eyed toward where she thought his face was, giving him the opportunity to so closely observe her. In reality she was staring past his left ear and the others soon began to call out to him, thinking that he had gotten up and wandered away, and he had to collect himself and reassure them that he was still there.
Gilligan sat on the table in his hut watching Mary Ann approach his hammock. "He could be asleep and I wouldn't even know it," she murmured. Mary Ann reached out tentatively into the hammock and Gilligan's eyes widened. He didn't think she'd just reach in blindly and hope she ended up with an arm.
He remembered a joke the Skipper had made earlier while trying to convince him that being invisible wouldn't be all bad. The captain had said something about getting into the women's locker room and tried to elbow Gilligan in the ribs, but ended up jabbing him in the stomach instead. Gilligan wasn't entirely sure what he meant, but the thought had occurred to him that some less-gentlemanly character would probably use invisibility to sneak up on the girls' hut.
Mary Ann suddenly drew back. "I don't know whether he sleeps with his head at this end or that end." Mary Ann turned away and came back with a blanket. She dropped it into the upper sack, where it fell flat and she sighed. "He isn't even in the hammock!"
The longer he sat there without saying anything, the more clearly Gilligan realized that once he did speak up, they'd both be faced with the awkward truth that he had watched her for a long time without letting her know he was there.
He had fallen into that habit throughout the day. He had watched the Howells as they sat on their lounge chairs that afternoon. He didn't know how old Mrs. Howell was, but he knew she didn't look her age. She was beautiful, graceful, demure. Gilligan watched her fuss over her outfit, her parasol, her husband, and the tea service set up on the table beside her, careful to make everything appear as she firmly believed it should.
Gilligan had leaned on the windowsill of the girls' hut and watched Ginger carefully apply her makeup mask. Gilligan watched, enthralled, as she transformed from a beautiful girl into a glamorous movie star right before his eyes.
Gilligan had spied on the Professor as he pored over his books. Gilligan and the Professor both knew that his scientific tomes wouldn't even entertain the notion of invisibility, but he soldiered on anyway. And Gilligan had watched the Skipper repeatedly burst into the supply hut to get an update from the Professor. Gilligan saw that same elusive look of despondency and frustration immediately disappear when the worried captain appeared, the scientist taking on an air of professionalism and reassurance.
Gilligan had sat high in the banyan tree and watched Mary Ann hang the wet laundry on the branches below. She worked quickly and quietly, the rhythm of the routine task heavily ingrained in her after three years. Mary Ann pulled one of Gilligan's extra shirts out of the laundry basket and sputtered to a stop. She stared at it for a long moment, sighed, and resumed hanging the laundry.
Gilligan had gotten into the habit of spying on his friends. He wasn't proud of it, but it was incredibly fascinating. He was noticing so many things that he normally missed and learning a lot about his fellow castaways, things that they'd never tell him in a million years.
After another long moment of watching Mary Ann frown at the empty hammock, Gilligan decided that if he waited any longer to say something, it would be better just to keep quiet. "Looking for me, Mary Ann?" She froze and he cringed. Gilligan thought it would come out sounding, at worst, sad and pitiful or, at best, enigmatic and mysterious. Instead, it just sounded incredibly creepy.
"Hi, Gilligan. Where are you? How do you feel?"
"Alright, I guess."
"I'm glad you feel alright. Wherever you are."
"I'm over here."
"Where's here?" Mary Ann wandered closer to his voice. "Gilligan, I made you your favorite drink. It's got banana and papaya and coconut." Mary Ann watched the drink disappear until the straw slurped and slid fruitlessly around the bottom of the glass. "Well, you certainly made that disappear." Mary Ann gasped. "I'm sorry, Gilligan!"
"It's okay. I'm getting used to it."
"I'm not." Mary Ann glanced around, unsure of where to look. "Does it hurt?"
"It's a little lonely." Mary Ann looked up toward the voice and Gilligan saw an unbelievable sadness flood her eyes. He reached out to take the empty glass from her.
Mary Ann felt him grab the glass, but she couldn't let go. Part of her was convinced that it would fall to the ground and smash if she did. She heard Gilligan laugh in front of her. "Let go." Mary Ann frowned a little and tugged experimentally on the glass, but it held fast in his grip and she slowly released her hold. She drew back as she watched the glass hover in midair for a moment and then float over to the table and set itself down gently.
Mary Ann turned away from the eerie scene and caught sight of her reflection in the bamboo-framed mirror hanging on the wall. "Can you see yourself?" she asked curiously.
Mary Ann heard him slide off the table and walk over to stand with her at the mirror. She could feel his presence beside her and wondered if this was similar to what people experienced when they said they felt spirits or ghosts with them. She felt his energy, his aura, the heat emanating from his body, but there was only one face in the mirror.
Gilligan stared at the place in the mirror where his reflection should be. He tried to imagine how it would look standing there next to Mary Ann. Would his hat be on straight? Would his hair be falling in his eyes? He finally sighed and gave up. "No. That's okay, though. There's loads of handsomer guys who could be standing next to you in the mirror. Ones you can see." Gilligan grinned his most charming boyish grin to let her know that he was teasing her.
Unfortunately, Mary Ann couldn't see it. "Oh, Gilligan," she cried, half admonishing and half heartbroken.
All day, she and the Skipper had looked the most perturbed by what had happened to him, even more than he was. Gilligan noticed that Mary Ann was constantly on the verge of tears, which wasn't necessarily rare for her, but she was usually tougher than she looked. The Skipper was the picture of worry, wringing his hat in his hands, accosting the Professor every hour to see if he'd learned anything new. The others tried to lighten the mood, reminding them that he was otherwise healthy and normal, but they weren't convinced.
Mary Ann was studying the mirror closely, trying to imagine how he would look standing there next to her. Would his hat be on straight? Would his shirt be all wrinkled as usual? "What's it like to be invisible?"
Gilligan shrugged. "It's not that much different than being visible. For me, at least. Sometimes people don't notice I'm there until I knock something over."
"I notice you, Gilligan."
Gilligan smiled and only faltered for a second before he continued. "But parts of being invisible are kinda neat."
Mary Ann gazed into the mirror and saw the end of her ponytail slowly lift from her back and rise into the air. Her mouth fell open in shock and Gilligan began to laugh. He kept pulling and Mary Ann suddenly realized that she could feel his hand in her hair. When her ponytail was sticking straight up in the air like she was hanging upside down, she burst out laughing.
"Making stuff float is one of the neat parts." Gilligan giggled and let go, her hair falling onto her back.
Gilligan suddenly got the brilliant idea that he should scoop her up in his arms and lift her clear off the ground. She'd squeal in surprise and he'd laugh and then she'd shriek and yell at him when she saw herself floating in midair. He'd laugh harder and she'd yell louder, but he'd tell her that it was just like the time he'd carried her back to camp after she fell into his bateater trap. But she probably wouldn't listen, kicking her feet and clutching at his shoulders that she couldn't see and send herself into a full-blown panic. Then the Skipper would hear and come in and yell at him too and try to hit him with his hat.
Gilligan frowned. It sounded like a funny idea at first.
Instead, Gilligan said, "I can also wander around and listen in on things and no one knows I'm there." He grinned, but Mary Ann frowned suspiciously and turned to face him.
"You better announce yourself when you come visit me and Ginger."
He laughed. "I promise."
"How do I know you're not crossing your fingers?" She almost reached out to poke him in the ribs like she usually did when she played with him, but she stopped herself. She didn't want to accidentally aim too low.
Gilligan grinned wider and she could hear it in his voice. "You don't."
Mary Ann went quiet then. She looked up at where she knew his face was based on three years of getting used to their height difference. She knew she was looking at him, but still it was as if he wasn't there at all. He could have turned around and snuck away without her knowing, but she could feel him there. Although she wouldn't be able to see him squirming or laugh at the ridiculous faces he made when he was uncomfortable. She soon found herself staring much more intensely than usual, concentrating with all her might, eyes boring into the space before her where she knew his were, not being able to see him somehow making it okay.
It always made Gilligan uncomfortable when Mary Ann stared at him. Sometimes he thought that she was the only person who really saw him. It was almost as if she could read his mind sometimes. Eventually he'd start squirming and she'd get out of him whatever she wanted to know. But today he took a bit of comfort in knowing that she couldn't read his expression. He knew every single one of his emotions and thoughts marched proudly across his face and he tried to be extra careful to control them when she was analyzing him. He'd always end up contorting a real emotion into some ridiculous face that would make her laugh and get him off the hook.
He didn't like it when she stared at him, but he had spent the better part of the day staring at her, so it was only fair.
Gilligan tried distracting himself by using this opportunity to stick his tongue out at her, cross his eyes, and then laughed to himself when she didn't even flinch. He gave her his best silent Mr. Howell impression, followed by his quietly blustery Skipper, and tried out his newest – Ginger – and regretted that she couldn't see it and give him any feedback.
He slowly sobered as he noticed that she was staring at him much more intensely than usual. She was gazing up at him through giant unblinking eyes. He saw how thick her eyelashes were. He noticed the way her brow furrowed slightly when she pursed her lips. He saw her bite her bottom lip as her mind worked overtime. A new thought flickered across her face and she cocked her head slightly and squinted at him. Mary Ann concentrated hard, trying to will him back into focus with the sheer power of her resolve.
Mary Ann slowly raised her right hand. She reached out tentatively toward his arm, but hesitated, drawing back slightly. "What does it feel like?" she asked quietly.
Gilligan was quiet for a long time, but Mary Ann knew he was still standing close in front of her. She could hear him breathing, could feel his warm breath ruffling her bangs.
Mary Ann saw her fingers move slightly just as she felt a gentle pressure on her fingertips. Mary Ann's eyes widened as Gilligan pushed his hand against hers until their palms met. She stared at her hand, feeling him there and yet seeing nothing. She pressed her palm against his and he pushed back.
His hand felt the same as it always did – too soft to belong to someone who did so much hard work outdoors and a little bit nervously clammy. It felt so normal, so familiar, and yet it was invisible. Her own hand looked like it was pressed against a glass wall.
"That's amazing," she breathed.
Mary Ann slowly laced her fingers through his. She squeezed his hand so tightly that she could feel the pulsing rhythm of his veins at work. Her senses fought with each other, touch struggling to overpower sight. She felt his fingers curl around her hand, his fingertips nestling between her knuckles.
Gilligan watched her stare at her hand, wide-eyed with astonishment. The longer she watched it curled in the air, holding nothing, the harder she squeezed his hand. She needed to make sure he was actually there, that people really could become invisible, that she wasn't crazy.
Gilligan felt her squeeze his hand with more strength than he knew she had, saw her fingertips turn white with the force. He saw her skin move as he held her hand in return, sliding and wrinkling where his fingers pressed into her hand, but that was the only visible evidence that he was there at all.
Gilligan watched her look of wonder slip away and her brow furrowed and she suddenly looked incredibly sad. Mary Ann reached out uncertainly with her other hand until her fingers found his shirt. The soft cotton felt the same as it always did, but there was nothing there.
Her mind reeled, senses battling for control. Sight was usually the ultimate decision maker – you had to see it to believe it. But touch was just as powerful, bringing memories into focus and sending tiny shockwaves of electricity into her fingertips as they brushed his shirt.
Gilligan watched this battle play out across Mary Ann's face until she finally decided to close her eyes and rely on what she felt, what was solid and tangible and real. Her lashes dusted her cheeks and she calmed immediately. Her features unknotted and she exhaled a huge sigh of relief. A radiant smile spread across her face and she flattened her hand against his chest.
"There you are," she whispered, beaming. "I see you."