Imagine Me

An imaginary friend tells the story of her life.

I became on the deep yellow window seat of her childhood room. That’s what it’s called for us, becoming. Something like birth, but of the imagination. I was an oddity, I’m sure, but when my mood ring and purple eyes met her sparkling blue ones, I felt like the only thing that was right in the world. Like me becoming was what turned the Earth right on it axis. She reached a small hand that smelled of baby body lotion out to me, and so started my life.

            “You’re mine. Perfect,” she said.

            Her gaze ran over me with the critical eye of someone who knows what she wants. There was never any doubt in my mind that she knew that. Hands on her hips and her small, child’s mouth quirked in thought, I was crazy for her.  

            “I’m Candice and you’re Clutch. Can you talk?” she asked.

            I blinked, and as she spoke, I found my mouth could form words.

            “I…am…Cl…Clutch,” I pushed the rusty words out of my throat.

            “Good. Let’s play.” She nodded at me, and I was dizzy.

            She was all business from the beginning and I loved her. Her messy blonde hair and the way even her laugh was serious. I know I was made to love her, to be hers, but it brought such a joy, I could never question it. I never questioned anything she did. I had always thought I was what she saw as perfection, but it wasn’t that way.

            “See? This is your tail! And your ears are grey cause my cat Moxy had grey ears before he died. They’re fuzzy! Just like his. I lost that marble in your eye last year and mommy says purple looks good on me, so I thought it would be a good eye color for you too!” she was proud, so of course I was too. She was my life, my best friend and I was her imaginary friend.

*     *

“It’s a shame, isn’t it? That they get older?”

I’m 10 years old today. Candice is 12. It is the end.

“What?” I ask.

“I said, it’s a shame that they get older,” Bezz says angrily. She doesn’t like to be ignored.

I study her. Bezz is older than me. She is what we call a leach. She finds her way into the hearts of other children and lets herself be shaped to their will. She was once a little girl’s imaginary friend, but now she looks something like a run over Barbie, skin melting down her left side and glitter along her burnt face.

“I guess,” I answer.

“Honey, I know she left you that memory, but I can bring you with me to the hospital. Lots of little ones,” she offers.

I think about the place she left me. That way she left me.

“Clutch…no one else still has imaginary friends. Mom says it’s bad that I still do. I need to let you go…I know you don’t exist, but it doesn’t seem right to just leave you without telling you. I’m 12 today…I’m too old for this. Remember that house we made up? The one with the cherry blossoms on the front lawn? You can have that. I won’t forget. Stay there.”

I had been getting shabbier. I knew something was coming, but it still felt like part of who I was, was ripped from me.

“I think I’m going to go there,” I say.

Bezz snorts. “You’re going to stay in the place she left you? Why not just find another kid?”

“Candice  is my child…how am I supposed to find another one?” I ask.

Bezz only shakes her head and gestures for me to go. I hope this is the last time I see her. I think of the house and decide I can’t go there. In an instant, I say goodbye to what I’ve known.

             

             *                      *

                A lot has changed since I’d last seen her. She’s older. I must have been thinking for years. She is dancing. She always loved to dance. Her hair is redder now and it whips about her. She is with friends and she is laughing. Men are watching, but she doesn’t look back at them. She is alone in her own world. I see him coming though, the one I’m sure she’ll like. He introduces himself. She is startled, but listens. When he speaks, her eyes widen. When they dance, I know he is who she’s picked.

            I follow her through her life, a shadow. When that man, Mark, asks her to marry him and she screams in joy, I cry for her. When she tells him she’s pregnant, I can’t stop smiling. I would rather be here, then with another child.

When she is large and her feet barely lift off the ground, he takes her to the hospital.  She is lying in a white bed panting. The gold ring on her finger glistens in the light.  

            “It’s okay baby, they’ll tell you to push soon,” he says soothingly.

            “I just want her out here and with us,” she pants, squeezing his hand. It has been hours.

            “I know. Me too.”

            I sit in the corner to wait. Doctors come in and out, telling her it’s almost time. When they finally pull her knees apart and tell her to push, I am standing with Mark, looking expectantly for the child. She is a red bundle, squealing, when she comes free. Candice is laying still, her eyes searching the face of her child, but her child isn’t feeling for her, her small hand reaches out and grabs mine. Though her eyes do not open, I feel them. She is claiming me. My heart, made of wind chimes, tinkles from the warmth in her palm.

            “Maggie,” Candice whispers to the child.

            The small palm releases mine and grips hers. I was made to love her. I was made to love them both. As Mark kisses Candice and then Maggie, I sit on the edge of the bed. Candice does not see me, but Maggie does. I am becoming once more.

·                *

Maggie is two today. She’s renamed me. I’m Willow, now. Candice asks about me. What I look like, how I act. Maggie hasn’t changed me much. A pink eye, instead of purple and my ears are human.. I curl my tail around her when she talks to Candice. Candice doesn’t recognize me. Maybe that’s best.

      We went outside today and I looked back to the house, noting something for the first time. It is the house from our memories. From the times when Candice was a child and we played in well lit rooms and climbed the cherry blossom tree. She gave it to me. I smile. Maggie asks why.

“Your mommy loved me before you ever were born. She made me. This house was our playhouse. I’m just thanking her,” I tell her.

Maggie smiles and says, “Mommy made you for me too!”

I laugh. In some ways she did. I know it’s a matter of time before Maggie’s too old for me, but I’ll wait. Maybe her child will imagine me too.

 

Reviews

[Aisha]

I liked this story, especially the perspective it was chosen in. How imaginary friends 'become' and can flit about. It was also nice how Clutch/Willow followed Candice throughout her life, and eventually made friends with Maggie as well. The repetition of being made to love the person was also very nice.
If I could make a few suggestions? At times, it got confusing. I kind of got the feeling that this was a part of a larger word, and you just cut it to fit in. For instance, who's Bezz? Why does Clutch know Bezz? Going backward a little, what happened with Clutch came into being? What was going on in Candice's life? And when you talk about Candice essentially 'dumping' Clutch, it's the perfect time for a full-scale flashback, instead of just a quote.
One last thing: I noticed how you brought up the perfect house, and ended the story will that mention (sort of). If it's that important, why don't you add the day Clutch and Candice created the house?
I hope you don't think I'm tearing this down because I hate it, honestly, I really do like the concept. Keep writing! =)