Read Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend Online
Authors: Matthew Green
Max doesn’t think of shower curtains as doors. At least he didn’t when he imagined me. Even though Max is disappeared, I feel like he is here right now, stopping me at the shower curtain. I feel like we are still together even though we are apart.
It feels like a reminder that he is still alive.
I crouch down and crawl under the space between the shower curtain and the floor. There is a girl in the bed behind the curtain, but she is not Dee. She is a little girl. She looks like she could be in Puppy’s first-grade class. She is asleep. There are wires and tubes running from little machines over to her arms and under her blankets. Her head is wrapped in a white towel. Her eyes are black and blue. There is a Band-Aid on her chin and above her eyebrow.
She is alone. No mother or father sitting in the chairs next to her bed. No doctor person checking on her.
I think about Max. I wonder if he is alone tonight, too.
‘When will she wake up?’
A little girl who looks almost exactly like the little girl in the bed is sitting in a chair to my right. I did not see her when I crawled under the curtain. She stands up when I look at her.
I am surprised that she did not mistake me for a human person like most imaginary friends do. Maybe she knows that I am imaginary because I crawled under the shower curtain and all the human people step through the curtain.
‘I don’t know when she will wake up,’ I say.
‘Why won’t the other people talk to me?’
‘Who?’ I ask, looking around. For a second, I think that someone else is behind the curtain. Someone else I didn’t notice.
‘The other people,’ she says again. ‘I ask them when she will wake up but no one will talk to me.’
I understand now. ‘Do you know her name?’ I ask, pointing at the little girl in the bed.
‘No,’ the girl says.
‘When did you meet her?’ I ask, pointing again.
‘In the car,’ she says. ‘After the accident. After the car hit the other car.’
‘Where were you before you were in the car?’ I ask.
‘Nowhere,’ she says. She looks confused and embarrassed. She stares at her shoes.
‘When did the girl go to sleep?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know,’ she says, still looking confused. ‘The people took her away. I waited by the doors and when she came back she was asleep.’
‘Did you talk to her at all?’ I ask.
‘Yes. In the car. Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t answer her, so she asked me to help. I stayed with her. I talked to her. We waited until the men with the machine got her out. It was loud and it made fire.’
‘I’m glad you got out of the car,’ I say.
I don’t want her to be afraid, and I think my questions are making her afraid. But I still have a few more to ask.
‘Have you seen Mommy and Daddy since you got out of the car?’ I ask.
‘No,’ she says.
‘What is your name?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know,’ she says, and now she sounds sad. She might cry, I think.
‘Listen. You are a special friend. An imaginary friend. That means that she is the only one who can see or hear you. She needed you in the car when she was scared so that is why you are here. But everything is going to be fine. You just need to wait until she wakes up.’
‘Why can you see me?’ she asks.
‘Because I am like you,’ I say. ‘I am an imaginary friend, too.’
‘Oh. Then where is your little girl?’ she asks.
‘My friend is a little boy. His name is Max, but I don’t know where he is.’
She stares at me. She says nothing so I wait. I don’t know what to say either. We just stare at one another over the beeps and hums from the machines beside the bed. The silence seems like for ever. Finally I speak.
‘I lost him. But I’m looking for him.’
She keeps staring at me. This little girl has existed for only a day but I know what she is thinking.
She thinks that I am a bad friend for losing Max.
‘I have to go now,’ I say.
‘Okay. When will she wake up?’
‘Soon,’ I say. ‘Just wait. She will be awake soon.’
I crawl back under the shower curtain before the little girl can say anything else. There is another closed curtain a few steps away but I know that Dee is not behind it. This is the Children’s Hospital. There is probably an ICU in the grown-up hospital, too, and Dee is probably there.
I wonder if Max is all alone like the little girl behind the shower curtain. She has no mommy or daddy sitting in the chairs next to her bed. Maybe they are hurt, too.
Maybe they are dead. But I do not think so because that would be too terrible a thing to think.
At least she has her imaginary friend. She may not have a name, yet, but she is waiting by the bed, so the little girl is not alone.
I keep thinking about what Max’s mom said. ‘I keep hoping that he has Budo with him.’
But I am not with Max.
That little girl has her brand-new imaginary friend with her tonight, but Max is alone somewhere. He is alive because I am still here and Max being dead would be too terrible a thing to think.
But he is alone.
Max’s mom will not stop crying. It is not a sad cry. It is a scared cry. It reminds me of the crying that babies do when they can’t find their mothers.
Except this time a mother can’t find her baby.
Max’s dad holds her. He does not say anything because there is nothing to say. He is not crying but I know that he is crying inside again.
I used to think that these were the three worst things in the world:
Now I think these are the three worst things in the world:
It is Sunday night, which means that tomorrow I can go to school and find Mrs Patterson and Max.
As long as Mrs Patterson goes back to school.
I think she will. Otherwise she would look suspicious. If Mrs Patterson was a bad guy on a television show, she would definitely go to school on Monday. She might even offer to help the police chief search for Max.
I bet she will. She is sneaky-smart.
I spent the weekend looking for Max, but now I feel like all I did was waste my time. I don’t know where Mrs Patterson lives, but I couldn’t just sit at home for two days doing nothing, and I couldn’t spend any more time around the police officers because too many of them keep wondering aloud (but never around Max’s parents) if Max is dead.
So I started searching for Max inside people’s houses, hoping that one of the houses would be Mrs Patterson’s house. I know that Mrs Grady and Mrs Paparazo live close enough to the school that they sometimes walk to work together, so I thought that maybe most of the teachers lived close by (even though I know Mrs Gosk lives in a faraway place on the other side of the river, which is why she is sometimes late). So I started my search with the houses closest to the school. I made circles through the neighborhood like the ripples that a stone makes when Max tosses one into the lake.
Max doesn’t swim, but he loves to throw rocks into the water.
I knew it would be almost impossible for me to find Mrs Patterson’s house like this, but I had to do something. But it didn’t do any good. I didn’t find Max or Mrs Patterson. All I found were parents who did not lose a child. Families sitting around dinner tables and raking leaves in the backyard and arguing about money and cleaning their basements and watching movies on television. All of them seemed so happy. It was like they didn’t know that Mrs Patterson could just drive to school one day and steal their little boy or little girl.
Monsters are bad things, but monsters that do not walk and talk like monsters are the worst.
I thought about going back to the hospital to see Spoon and Summer again, but I am afraid that Summer will be mad because I have not found Max yet.
I don’t know why I should be afraid of a little girl the size of a soda bottle, but I am. Not afraid like she will hurt me, but afraid in the same way that Max is afraid to disappoint Mrs Gosk, even though he does it all the time and doesn’t even know it.
I am also afraid to find out that Summer’s human friend has died and she has died, too.
Disappeared, I mean. Stopped existing.
Last night I stopped at the gas station to see if Dee was back.
She wasn’t. Sally wasn’t there either, but I don’t think I will ever see Sally again. Getting shot might kill a person but I don’t think it would stop someone from going back to work someday. But getting stuck like Sally might stop a person from ever coming back to work, even to say hello to old friends.
I don’t think it will ever be the same at the gas station. There were three people working last night but I didn’t know any of them. Pauley came in to buy scratch tickets, and I could tell that he feels the same way. He didn’t even stay to scratch his tickets. He stood at the counter for a second, thinking about it, and then he just left with his head down.
It’s not our place anymore.
But it’s not a new place, either.
It’s not a special place for anyone anymore. The people who work there now just work. There was a girl working last night who looked like she needed to make two or three bonus poops. Her face was all scrunched up and serious. And the other people, both old men, barely spoke to one another. And everyone works. No more goofing around. No more television behind the counter. No more talking to customers and knowing their names. No more Dee telling Sally to get back to work.
I don’t know if I will ever go back to the gas station. I would like to see Dee again. Maybe in the ICU someday, if I ever find the courage to go to the adult hospital. But I don’t think even Dee could make the gas station like it used to be.
I have to leave early tomorrow morning. I am worried that the bus will not stop at our bus stop, because Max will not be standing by the tree, touching it with one hand at all times so he doesn’t accidentally wander into the street. That was my idea, but when he told his mother the idea so that he could wait by himself, he said that it was his idea.
I didn’t care. I was his idea, so in a way my idea was his idea, too.
I could walk to the school if I had to, like I did this weekend when I was searching for Max, but I have always ridden on the bus to go to school, and I feel like it would be good luck for me to ride it tomorrow. Like I’m telling the world that I am on the bus because I know that Max will be back soon.
I have a list of things to do tomorrow. I’ve been thinking about them all night. Memorizing them. Sometimes I really, really wish I could hold a pencil and write things down. I have to be much more careful this time. On Friday I was not careful and Mrs Patterson drove away without me. So I have to be sure to do exactly the right thing tomorrow.
My things-to-do list is short:
I just hope that Mrs Patterson comes to school tomorrow. I tried to make a list of things to do if Mrs Patterson does not come to school but I could not think of anything to put on the list.
If she does not come back to school, I think Max will be lost for ever.
The blue backpack is not on the back seat anymore. I am sitting in the spot where it was the last time I saw it.
Thursday. The last time I saw it was Thursday.
Four days ago. It feels like forty days ago.
Mrs Patterson pulled into the parking lot before the first bell. She parked her car in her usual spot and walked inside like it was a normal school day. A kidnapper is now walking around the halls of the school and no one knows it except for me. I keep wondering if she is planning on stealing another kid soon. Is she tricking other boys and girls like she tricked Max?
Did she want Max because he is Max or because she is collecting kids?
Both ideas scare me.
My list of things to do says to stay in the car no matter what, but the school day is long and it is still early. The first recess bell hasn’t even rung yet. I don’t think Mrs Patterson will leave early because that would look suspicious. And I made the list so I can change it if I want. It is not like the rules about not running in the hallways or staying silent during a fire drill or not eating peanut butter at the peanut-free table. It’s my rule so I can break it if I want. So I will.
I just want to see what is going on inside the school.
I want to see Mrs Gosk.
There is a man sitting at a desk in the lobby. There has never been a desk in the lobby before, and there has never been a man sitting at a desk in the lobby before. He is not wearing a uniform but I can tell that he is a policeman. He looks serious and bored at the same time, just like those police officers who work overnight at the police station.
A lady just walked through the front doors and the police officer is waving her over to his desk. He is asking her to sign her name on a clipboard. While she is signing, he asks her to explain why she is here today.
She is carrying a tray of cupcakes.
He must not be a very good policeman. Even a kindergartener would know why this lady is here.
I walk down the hall to Mrs Gosk’s classroom. She is teaching when I walk in. Just hearing her voice in the hallway makes me feel a little better.
She is standing in front of the class and talking about a boat called the
Mayflower
. She has a map rolled down in front of the chalkboard, and she is whacking it with her meter stick and asking where North America is. I know the answer to this question because Max loves maps. He loves to plan imaginary battles with imaginary armies on real maps, so I know the names of all the continents and oceans and lots of the countries.