Title: Imaginary Girl (boring title I know)
Summary:I didn't actually intend for this to be a fic. I was just writing something becasue I was bored and it all just poured out from there. The title is a dead give away and it's a bit sad. I put M/L on the title becasue I am a dreamer but no names are mentioned so it can pretty much be about whoever you want.
Disclaimer: Actually I own all of this becasue it wasn't supposed to be a fic and it doesn't mention any characters names so mwahahahaha! ITS MINE ALL MINE!!
I remember her eyes mostly.
The way they were pink, violet, blue and grey all at the same time.
I remember her hair.
The way it was never perfect but always just right.
There are a lot of things I remember in my life.
Like how I buried my dog on a windy October day, or how the lady down the road shouted at me on my way to the bus stop on sunny days.
But there is always one thing that you remember most.
The thing you think of when people ask you ‘What was it like for you growing up?’
And she is it.
But I don’t tell people about her. I tell them about my dead dog being buried in a windy October and the crazy woman who shouted a block from the bus stop.
I would never tell them about her.
Because she wasn’t really real.
I met her when I was five and sitting alone in my room.
‘Sent to bed without dinner?’ she inquired.
I told her yes and she gave me a chocolate bar she found under my bed.
She was very wise.
She told me my mother would be mad for a while but not forever.
She told me to mind the monsters under my bed especially on dark nights when there’s no moon.
She told me I shouldn’t have eaten the mushrooms from the garden and that was why I had been sick a few months earlier.
Yes, she was very wise. For a 5 year old.
She was my friend from then on.
The type of friend your mother doesn’t know your talking to at the dinner table on Sunday nights when your father hasn’t come home from work..
The type of friend your sister teases you about.
An imaginary friend.
I didn’t really matter to me that no one else could see her or that she didn’t really exist because hers was the hand I held the first day of school when everyone had their mothers but mine was getting her hair done and reading magazines under the hot dryers.
I suppose I must have looked quite funny with my hand in a fist sticking out at a 45 degree angle but I her hand was warm and her voice very soothing when she told me I ought not be afraid of school although she would be quite frightened if it were her.
When I was older and the other children, who had long ago given up their imaginary friends, laughed at me because I was still holding no ones hand she squeezed it tighter and said it didn’t matter because she thought we made a very good team.
This was the year my mother, whose hair always needed doing on important days, took me to a child psychologist.
She told me to ignore him.
‘He’ll take me away from you.’ She said.
I didn’t want that one bit so I pretended I couldn’t hear him and he sent me to the doctor for tests.
Still, it never bothered me much because she was always there when my mother had to get her hair done.
Sometimes I would take the long way home from school because I wanted to talk with her more.
And she was always there when I went to sleep, right beside me whispering that it didn’t matter so much that my father never tucked me in because he was at meetings or my mother never kissed me good night.
She always said the things I most needed to hear.
She told me once that it didn’t matter to her that I was growing up into a tall lanky boy. I told her it didn’t matter to me in the slightest that she was growing up because she looked very beautiful in her yellow sundress that she wore because it was sunny.
She blushed when I said this and I think that was the day I fell in love with my imaginary friend.
It was the last day of 8th grade when, because the sun was glowing and she sat next to me on the wall with her hair down and a floral dress on, I told her that I loved her.
I remember that she tilted her head and looked at me with a smile and said that perhaps she loved me too although we were really too young to be properly in love like in the movie my mother took me to see even though they said very bad things in it.
‘When we are old like that then we shall be properly in love.’ She said.
My friend was always very wise.
And we sat there for the longest time watching all the kids run out of school waving goodbye and shouts hopes for a good summer to them, a few crying because after this things would change a lot. Or so the grey haired man told us in the dusty classroom when it was really to sweaty to stay indoors.
Nearly 14, I wondered for the first time why no one else had a friend like mine.
She told me it was because they weren’t the same person I was, which I thought was a very wise thing to say.
It was a rainy summer I recall and she lamented we couldn’t play board games because she couldn’t move the pieces.
She stopped crying when I told her I didn’t want to play the boring board games any how because talking to her was much nicer.
That summer my mother looked sadly at me and wanted to know why I always talked to the person she couldn’t see and cried when I told her I loved my friend, I supposed because I only had one friend.
She comforted me when my sister came home crying because she’d seen a movie with ghost and told my mother that I could see dead people.
But when we were alone in my room she told me that she wasn’t actually a ghost but perhaps it would be fun to fly around and go through walls and things.
I still went to the mall and did things other kids did but with her and not a large pack of friends.
She was all the friend I needed and at the end of the summer was holding my hand once again when I walked to high school because my mother had yoga classes to make herself thin and young again because it turned out all the nights he didn’t tuck me into bed or come home for dinner he was out with another woman tucking her and himself into bed.
The people seemed so much older. I remember that. I also remember how she looked at me and said when we were that old we would kiss and say we loved each other even though we didn’t mean it. I told her I loved her only one way and I would always mean it.
She blushed and kissed my cheek and giggled a soft girlish giggle which made the skirt of her dress sway beautifully.
I did love her very much and perhaps this was the reason my English teacher called me after class one day and told me my writing was very good but he thought I should get my head out of the clouds so I could finish work more promptly.
He gave me a A anyway though because he said my writing was from the heart.
‘My heart is all I’ve got, and a beautiful friend.’
And he smiled at me and told me to hang on to her if she was the cause of my writing.
I suppose, in a way, he was another reason she never went away although I had decided long ago she would never leave me.
My mother told me in the car one day when she didn’t have hair appointments or yoga classes that the things in my head would only go away if I made them.
I’m not sure she realized that my friend was someone I didn’t want to go away. Not ever.
I tried to tell my mother this but she chipped a nail on the dashboard and swore very loudly.
I remember my first kiss very clearly.
It was cold outside and the woman down the road had died and so had the roses my mother liked so much.
But I was sitting with my friend so it didn’t matter much and I was wondering whether my friend was something more than a friend when she told me in her soft voice that it was time. That we were old enough to kiss and say we loved each other and pretend we don’t mean it even though we really truly did.
I smiled and said I would like that very much.
‘Close your eyes.’ She said and I did quite quickly because I loved her.
And I remember that I felt a breathe of air on my lips and it tasted like honeysuckle and apples and for one blissful moment I revelled in my first kiss wondering why this particular day was they day we were ready. Some obscure day halfway through my junior year.
When I opened my eyes she was sitting there smiling shyly at me.
‘I’m sorry I can’t kiss you like the do in the movies.’ She said and I hugged her while she cried because she really did want to kiss me like that and I think I felt the same.
We had many other kisses like that first one and I remember each one perfectly. The one on the swing bench in my fathers girlfriends house. The one under the stairs after I cried reading a book and my sister laughed at me. The one in the window seat of my aunts house. But none of them were quite the same or had the same feeling as that first one.
I suppose all first kisses are that magical or at least I hope they are.
Since my father was unfaithful and horrible to my mother I suddenly saw him a lot more.
Mostly he left me to my own devices in the garden because he didn’t really want me around. Or maybe he was intimidated by my friend.
But one day when the weather was cold but clear my father came to talk to me. He asked me whether I was gay or not and I said I wasn’t and I that I was very much in love with a beautiful girl who loved me too. And he sighed with relief and sadness and relaxed on the bench.
He told me to hang on to her if she respected me otherwise I would find myself at the age of 48 in a law suit with a angry woman who never respected me in the first place and was bitter because I had found someone who didn’t love me but at least wanted me around.
I suppose he was talking about my mother because he got misty eyed and told me he loved me and wished me the best with my girlfriend.
That was the first time I can remember my father saying he loved me and so I cried too with him. Afterwards he said not to say anything about this and I didn’t except to my friend because I knew she wouldn’t tell anyone else.
I felt very guilty for wanting to kiss her like they kissed in movies because I knew she wanted to as well.
She told me that she wanted it more than anything in the world and would give it to me in a heart beat if she could.
And when we walked around the mall and saw the other couples kissing like in the movies and holding hands she squeezed mine tighter and said it didn’t matter that we couldn’t do that because when we said ‘I love you’ we meant it truly and never lied to each other.
That was senior year when a girl came up to me and said she’d like to go out with me and I had to tell her although she was pretty I was in love with someone else and she sighed and went along. I saw her the next day with some guys arms around her and was especially glad I hadn’t said yes because it didn’t seem like she must have wanted to go out with me very badly at all.
My mother didn’t come to my graduating ceremony because she was at a spa getting a mud bath and my father didn’t come because he was getting married to his girlfriend at some resort.
A great aunt came but I had only ever seen her once at Christmas time so I’m not sure she counted.
My friend was there though in the front room smiling very widely at me when I went to get my diploma. Afterwards she told me I looked very handsome in my cap and gown and we laughed all the way home in a car my father got me as a present.
And when we were still sitting in the car she hugged me and said I was going out into the big wide world soon and should have a plan.
My friend was always very wise.
Just before the summer ended and college began my mother came into my room and said, quite rudely, that I didn’t have any friends when my sister had plenty and I most likely had anti-social disorder.
I said that I most likely did but at least I was happy and had all needed. My mother told me I was mentally ill and it was worrying her that I still had an imaginary friend at 18.
My friend later told me it didn’t matter what anyone else thought because we were happy together and although we couldn’t kiss like in the movies we said ‘I love you’ and meant it truly.
I left home shortly after that and into a dorm with 2 other boys who didn’t like me very much even though they hadn’t talked to me one bit. But she held my hand walking to my first class and said unless I was unhappy then there was no point in worry about the sentiments of 2 people I hardly knew.
I think she was worried that didn’t like loving her anymore because no one else would talk to me.
‘Your everything to me though.’ I said and she smiled and felt much better.
My friend was so beautiful and still so girlish.
Her hair was longer and she looked beautiful in the lavender sundress she often wore when the weather was warm.
And I loved to make her laugh because she would giggle in a soft girly way and tilt her head shyly so I couldn’t see her eyes properly.
I truly did love her and it didn’t matter that my mother thought I was ill, or that my father was never around, or that my sister called me a freak and laughed about me with her friends, or even that my room mates deliberately avoided me and wondered privately how such a mentally ill person had been given a place in the university.
I did get one friend in college. He was very nice to me and we met in creative writing class.
He told me not to worry that I lived inside my head because while others thought it was a sign of sickness it was really the place all great writers come from, their head and their heart.
When I retold the information to my friend she nodded and said that he must be a very wise person to say such a thing.
He took me out to coffee sometimes and asked me to describe what I saw. And he asked me why, on sunny days, I always described a girl in a lavendar dress and on colder days a girl in a green dress when there was really no one.
So I told him that she meant everything to me and he stopped asking questions and looked very sad because perhaps he thought I was thinking of an old sweetheart who had since died.
My mother was not at my college graduation she had met a man and was on a beach with him. My father didn’t come because he was in court divorcing the woman he had married previously.
My great aunt had died but my friend was still there. Sitting in the front row smiling up at me as I received my diploma.
Afterwards my other friend came up and told me he was getting married to his high school sweetheart. I was very excited for him and later that evening when it was just me and the girl I loved I asked if we could ever get married and she started crying.
‘We can never be married just like we can never kiss like in the movies.’ She said.
She told me she wanted to very much though and even though I was very sad and heartbroken I knew she was right.
My friend was always very wise.
She loved me very much my friend did and I’m not sure I can even call her my friend because she was so much more than that.
All the times that I felt frightened she was holding my hand and all the times I was happy she was there to share it with me.
I very clearly remember the day she left. We were sitting on the couch of my house that I had bought the year before on my 28th birthday and I was very happy and content.
I closed my eyes and she kissed me and I tasted the honeysuckle again and breathed in the apple scent deeply.
‘I have to go away now.’ She said crying quite hard.
And I choke on a sob that had arisen rapidly because she’d never said that before and I knew it was the end.
I never did ask why because I think I already knew but I held her tightly for a few minutes and then she turned her pink, violet, blue and grey eyes on me and told me she would love me forever and not forget a single moment and that I was not to forget a single moment either.
I sobbed while she put her arms around me and whispered in my ear that it never did matter to her that we couldn’t be married or kiss like in the movies because we told each other ‘I love you’ and meant it truly.
And when I lifted my head she wasn’t there anymore and although I felt quite alone sitting in the room I think she was still in my heart because it felt warm and full.
But I didn’t forget.
No I never did forget my friend, who was so much more than that, with the pink, violet, blue and grey eyes and the hair that was never perfect but always just so. And I didn’t forget a single moment and I still recall the number of times she told me that it didn’t matter that we couldn’t kiss like in the movies because we said ‘I love you’ and meant it truly.
Please tell me what you thought.
[ edited 2 time(s), last at 20-Sep-2002 9:51:23 PM ]
posted on 10-Aug-2002 4:06:49 AM by Pixie
What would the board be like if we didn't bump our own fics?
posted on 27-Aug-2002 7:17:08 PM by Pixie
Ok guy's I'm just doing a little bumpage here. Specially to thank talena who made the MAGNIFICENT cover for thsi fic!!!
Thankyou soo much! I LOVE IT!!!!!!
Everyone should go look at it even if they've already read the fic. When I thought about what happened in the story and then looked at tyhe images in the picture I actually got tears in my eyes!!
hehe I'm a dork. So sue me.
posted on 2-Sep-2002 3:09:50 PM by Pixie
Hey you can be a dork whenever you feel like being a dork ok? It's a god given right!
IceRose- lol it was less than a random thought. I was bored and just wrote the first line cus I felt like it then a while later I had a story. A lot of my poems and stories are like that. Just me writing stuff and not really paying attentionas to what I'm writing. Like my poem about blueberry pastries at corner stores.....ahem. Anyway yeh that's how the story came about. And about doing a revised version....It could happen but I don't want to crap it all up and take away whatever little magic I splshed into it!
Wench On A Leash- You don't know how great it is to see you liked my story. You and incognito are 2 of my fanfic writing inspirations. Thankyou!
m14 and other questioners(?)- I honestly did think of doing a sequel thingy but then I thought I don't want to give it a happy ending just for the sake of a happy ending. (I'm such a hypocrite becasue I wlove stories with happy endings!) I think if I did one the story would be the same. To me the story is a complete thing. Sad but complete. It makes it's point and I think I'll leave it like that! lol But don't fear. I'm sure you see more strange one parters by moi. It's all I can write now aday's because nonsensical(??) poems.