My Friend's Reality

A boy tries to help his best friend through her process of therapy.

“I’m going to do it!”

 

“Do what exactly?” I asked my friend of 15 years, Ariel.

“See my therapist” she said. “I don’t want to deal with hallucinations or weird looks form other people anymore” she somberly replied. I smiled. For as long as I could remember, Ariel had always carried this mental illness with her. Sometimes when the hallucinations get really bad, she would start to sob uncontrollably. Seeing her like that had always pained my heart. Secretly, I’ve always held a major crush on this troubled girl.

“The receptionist told me to bring a picture of myself with my friends. I took this one of us at the beach together” she said handing the photo to me. The photo showed a scene from 7 years ago. Ariel was by the shore, smiling and making a peace sign towards the camera. I was besides her, flexing my non-existent muscles and making a cringe-worthy body-builder pose.

“I remember this trip” I told Ariel. “We went swimming in the ocean and you lost your goggles.”

Ariel sighed. “I didn’t lose my goggles, you took them and dropped them. Anyways, I have to go now. I’ll see you later!” she yelled as she ran towards the car. The Red Volvo pulled out of the driveway, and made a right turn out of the neighborhood. I started walking towards the park nearby, counting with each step I took. Time seemed to fly by when Ariel was gone. Often times, I don’t have a clear recollection of what I would spend my time doing. After all, I really had no other people I could truly call my friend. I laid down under a tree and closed my eyes for a quick power nap.

When I opened my eyes again, the sky had turned from blue to a hazy orange-purple. I glanced at the clock tower at the park’s center. Six thirty, the hands read. Ariel should be back from her appointment by now. I headed over to her house to verify, and sure enough she was sitting outside on the porch.

She noticed me walking up towards her, and smiled. “How was the session?” I asked.

“It went great!” she replied. Maybe it was my imagination, but her voice sounded a little off.

“Did you show him the photo?” I further inquired.

“Uh- yeah… I did. Sorry, I have to go inside now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Ariel turned and walked back towards her house.  I was left standing on the street, more confused than hurt. Why would she react that way? Did something happen at the therapist’s office. Suddenly, a wave of sharp pain travelled through my head, as if someone was stabbing me with a knife. I cried out and crumpled to the ground. For another good ten minutes, I just laid there unable to comprehend the things that were going on. When I finally regained my composure, I slowly got up from the ground, barely managing to stand up without falling in the process. Shivering, I quickly retreated from Ariel’s house and hurried back to my own.

In search of answers for Ariel’s strange behavior yesterday, I followed her to her next therapy session. Strangely enough, the receptionist and security guards didn’t stop me from entering the room. I quietly peeked inside, and saw Ariel sitting there talking to the psychologist.

“Tell me again Ariel” the psychologist asked. “What do you see in this photo?” He held up the beach photo Ariel had shown me previously.

“It’s a picture of me and my best friend” she answered. The therapist shook his head, the wrinkles in his forehead bunching together as he frowned.  Clearly, that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. Again a sharp pulse of pain rattled through my head. I was barely able to hold my scream in. 

“Where did you and your best friend meet?” the therapist asked. I didn’t understand; what was he trying to imply? “Where does your best friend live? What were his grades in school?” I looked at Ariel, expecting to see her face full of confidence and ready to answer. Instead, she had a blank and terrified look on her, as if she had no idea what the answers were to the questions just asked. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ariel, what are you waiting for?!?” I busted into the room asking. “We’ve known each other for so long!” Ariel turned and looked at me, her eyes full of doubt and confusion.  The therapist looked up at me.

“I assume that’s your friend standing over there?” he asked. Ariel nodded. “Can you ask him, what he’s doing here?"

“Ask me yourself, you coward!” I yelled at him. He paid no attention to my threat and continued to jot down notes on his clipboard. Ariel grabbed me by the hand and told me to calm down.

“I have one more question for you Ariel” the therapist asked her. “Can you tell me the name of your best friend?”

There was a pause much longer than I would have liked there to be. “Well… Ariel… go on… tell him my name” I shakenly encouraged her. Ariel looked me in the eye and for the first time ever, she looked afraid of me.

“What is your name?” she whispered with a frightened tone in her voice. 

“Don’t be ridiculous! My name is -…” What was my name? No! It was impossible; how could I not know my own name? Come to think of it, I didn’t have an answer for any of the questions asked earlier either. I was unable to pull out a memory of how Ariel and I met, an address for where I lived, or a report for my school grades. Who am I? Another wave of pain hit me hard, painful enough so that I crumpled to the floor. The therapist placed the picture on the table. Struggling to get myself on my knees, I lumbered clumsily over to the photo.

In it was a picture of Ariel by the shore, smiling and making a peace sign towards the camera. Besides her was… nobody. The pain hit me like a high speed train, severe enough that I blacked out for a couple seconds. My conscience was fading. I reached my hand out for Ariel to help, but I was just given a cold stare in return. 

“He’s not real. He never was and you need to come to terms with that” the therapist told her. “Once you do, you’ll stop having the problems.” At death’s door, I finally realized the truth. I was just a figment of Ariel’s imagination, a safety net derived by her brain to protect her from emotional trauma. The sharp pains I felt were steps of her recovery. It wasn’t that I felt pain because I was getting worse, but rather it was because Ariel was recovering and coming to terms with reality, which didn’t include me.

I looked at Ariel, her face puffy and eyes red with tears. There was something she had to do; it was critical to her improvement. Yet at the same time, I also knew that it would mean the erasure of my existence. Trying my best to hide the pain and sadness on my face, I smiled at her.

“Do it!” I screamed.

“You’re not real, and I don’t need you anymore!” Ariel yelled, her voice pained with grief.

Before I felt that white hot flash of pain, I thought to myself. What would death feel like, and what if Ariel still needed me?  That was a silly thing to wonder; I was never alive to begin with so how could I possibly die? As for Ariel, my presence would only cause her more harm than good.  As my last “breathe” left my lips, I felt the scorching fire of life vaporize me, a fabricated entity, from existence. Then…. nothing.

 

 

Author's Note

Critical feedback is recommended. Trying to improve as a writer.