Imaginary Friend

by Stephen Chbosky

  Stop fucking that man, Debbie. The woods will make the pain stop. It’s time.

  The old woman sat in the attic, rocking in her chair.

  We know you swam in the Ohio River together. He was such a beautiful boy. And he’s here in the woods. He wants to see you, Gladyssss. It’s time.

  Mike and Matt sat at the dinner table with their mothers. The Gabrielson-Scott Christmas tradition of Chinese food and a movie started one day early. When the feast was done, the boys cracked open their fortune cookies.

  Mike, if they take the tree house, she’s going to kill your brother.

  Matt, please help me. Christopher is trapped. It’s time.

  Father Tom was in the middle of preparing midnight mass when Mrs. Radcliffe had the strange idea of holding mass in the Mission Street Woods. Father Tom didn’t like that idea at all. He said it was an abomination. So, the choir jumped on him and bit him and stabbed him and left him on the altar bleeding as they started to sing. The song was one they had never rehearsed before, but somehow, they all knew the melody.

  it’s tiMe.

  it’s tiMe.

  it’s tiMe.

  But perhaps the strangest of all thoughts occurred to Nurse Tammy while taking a much-needed smoke break after making her rounds in the ICU. The thought was so odd in fact that at first, she blamed it on having worked seventy-two hours straight due to the short staff. In the past week, she had seen more shootings, stabbings, and suicide attempts than she had since she graduated from Pitt nearly ten years ago. It started when some woman stabbed her husband through the throat. Then, Mary Katherine hit Christopher and his mother with her car. The sheriff had been shot in the chest. A clown shot himself in the temple. Mrs. Collins deliberately inhaled a gallon of house paint. But there were others. Drunk drivers. Bar fights. Car accidents. The worst was the school bus driver, Mr. Miller, who practically impaled himself on a deer’s antlers while driving the bus back to depot after dropping off the last kid for the Christmas Pageant. It had been absolute carnage. But that wasn’t the strangest part. No.

  The strangest part was that nobody died.

  For the life of her, she couldn’t actually remember the last time somebody had. As a matter of fact, the coroner joked that he felt a little guilty that everyone else was working so hard, because the last dead body he saw was the skeleton of that little boy they found in the woods. What was his name again? David something. When was that? Maybe a month ago. A whole month and no death. Wow.

  It’s a Christmas miracle.

  Nurse Tammy took three more greedy puffs and went back into the hospital. But not before thanking God that her shift finally ended at midnight. It was a few hours until she could drive home and share a nice glass of merLOT with her father. Only a few hours until Christmas.

  Then again. If people just stopped dying, it would mean the end of the world.

  Chapter 85

  Mary Katherine opened her eyes. Her head throbbing. She looked outside at the sunset, and a horrible sick lodged in her stomach. It was Christmas Eve. But she wasn’t going to Aunt Gerri’s house for mushroom soup. She wasn’t going to church for Father Tom’s midnight mass. She had driven her car at 125 miles an hour. And in that crucial moment when the deer ran in front of her, Mary Katherine thought of nothing but saving herself. In order to stay out of Hell, she turned the wheel and hit a little boy and his mother instead.

  You’re selfish, Mary Katherine. You’re so selfish.

  The voice ate at her stomach as the memories came back in one large flood. The terrible impact. The violent ripping of metal and explosion of glass. The jaws of life prying both cars open like cans of soup. The EMTs pulling out Christopher and Mrs. Reese. They were such nice people. They were such good people.

  You hit a child to stay out of Hell, Mary Katherine.

  Mary Katherine would have given anything to trade places with him. But nothing happened to her that sleeping the day away couldn’t fix. She had her seat belt and an airbag. She was fine. She wanted that airbag to kill her. She wanted that seat belt to strangle her. She deserved to die in that accident.

  You deserve everything that’s happening to you, Mary Katherine.

  Mary Katherine finally forced herself to look down at her body. She saw the hospital gown. The life monitor clipped to her index finger. The heart monitor beeped and beeped and beeped. When they brought her into the hospital, an exhausted Nurse Tammy told her not to worry. Just rest. She would be fine. The doctor might have even sent her right home.

  If it hadn’t been for the baby.

  The door opened.

  “Mary Katherine?”

  Her mother walked into the room. She rushed to Mary Katherine, crying and hugging her over and over again.

  “Mom, I’m so sorry.”

  Mary Katherine had no way of understanding that her mother was not upset at her seventeen-year-old daughter because she was too relieved that the seventeen-week-old daughter that she remembered nursing hadn’t died in that car accident last night. She had no way of knowing that no matter how big children feel, they will always look smaller to their parents.

  “Thank God you’re okay,” her mother said. “Praise Jesus.”

  Mary Katherine looked up as her father walked into the room. His jaw was tight and clicky from hours of rage. Rage at her disobedience. Rage at her recklessness. Rage at the expense of hospital bills and insurance claims and the Notre Dame tuition that was now going to drown the family in debt.

  “Dad,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

  He was silent as a statue. And he wouldn’t look at her. He just stood there, scratching the dome of his scalp. When she was younger, she thought he had scratched away his hair like an eraser on the tip of a pencil. She waited for him to speak, but when he wouldn’t, she asked him the one thing she cared about in that moment.

  “How is Christopher?” she asked.

  “He’s in a coma,” her father said. “He might die, Mary Katherine.”

  All the guilt she had ever experienced was a dry run leading up to that moment. Mary Katherine’s face flushed with shame. Her eyes brimmed, and her voice quivered.

  “I’m sorry, Dad. It’s all my faul—”

  “What the hell were you doing on the road at two in the morning?” he asked, cutting her off.

  Her father’s voice sounded different to her. She had never seen him this angry. Mary Katherine was silent. She looked at her mother.

  “Don’t look at her. Look at me. What were you doing, Mary Katherine?”

  Mary Katherine looked into her father’s eyes. She was terrified.

  “I went to church,” she said.

  The minute the words left her mouth, her stomach began to churn. She wasn’t lying. She did go to church. But only after buying three pregnancy tests. Only after peeing on three sticks. Only after testing positive three times. Father. Son. Holy Ghost.

  “You went to pray?” her mother said, her eyes softening.

  “Yes, Mom,” Mary Katherine said.

  “About what?” her father asked.

  “Excuse me?” Mary Katherine stalled.

  Her father stared at her. His rage only growing.

  “You knew the family was going to midnight mass tonight, but you just had to sneak the car out at two in the morning to go to church to pray?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “ABOUT WHAT?” he said.

  Mary Katherine was a deer in the headlights.

  “Um…”

  “PRAYING. ABOUT. WHAT?” her father repeated.

  Mary Katherine turned to her mother.

  “Honey, please. What were you praying for?” her mother asked softly.

  “Mommy…” Mary Katherine said, suddenly feeling about ten years younger than she was. “I don’t know how this happened. I must have done something wrong, but I don’t know what it is. Maybe I thought it because to think it is to do it, but I didn’t know it could work that way, Mom. I swear to you I didn’t.”

  “Just tell me
what you were praying for, honey. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together,” her mother said.

  Tears began to swell in Mary Katherine’s eyes. Her father grabbed her hand.

  “STOP STALLING AND ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION!” her father yelled. “WHAT WERE YOU PRAYING ABOUT?!”

  “Daddy, I’m pregnant.”

  With the truth came the tears. Her mother held her as she sobbed. For a moment, Mary Katherine thought that maybe it would be okay. Her mother would still love her. She could still get into Notre Dame. She could get a great job and pay her father back and help Christopher recover. She promised them she would. Because her mother forgave her. Because when she deserved nothing, she was given love.

  “When did you and Doug start having sex?”

  Mary Katherine looked up and saw her father. He was so disappointed.

  “When did you and Doug start having sex?” he repeated.

  “We didn’t.”

  “What? You’re sleeping with other people?”

  “No, Dad.”

  “Then, who is the father?” he asked.

  Mary Katherine was silent. Her mother held her hand softly.

  “Who is the father, honey?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, Mom,” Mary Katherine said.

  “You don’t know? How many have there been?!” her father asked.

  “None.”

  “What are you talking about?!” he said.

  “I’ve never had sex.”

  “Then, how are you pregnant?”

  Mary Katherine could not stand the look in his eyes. The confusion holding the rage back like fingers in a dam.

  “I don’t know. That’s what I said. I don’t know what’s happening.”

  “Tell me who the father is!” he said.

  Mary Katherine turned back to her mother.

  “There is no father. That’s what I’m saying. I don’t understand what I did. Please help me, Mom.”

  “It’s okay, honey. You don’t have to protect anyone. Just tell us who the father is,” her mother said kindly.

  “Mom…there is no father. It’s an immaculate conception.”

  Mary Katherine turned just as her father slapped her across her face.

  “You stop this blasphemy right now! Who did you sleep with?”

  “No one, Daddy,” she cried.

  “Who’s the father?”

  “I’m a virgin.”

  “MARY KATHERINE! WHO’S THE FUCKING FATHER?!”

  Mary Katherine braced herself, but her father didn’t hit her again. He just gave her a look of utter contempt and walked into the hallway, seething. Mary Katherine fell into her mother’s arms and sobbed so deeply that it took her a few seconds to realize something horrible.

  Her mother wasn’t holding her back.

  “Mom?” she asked. “Will you forgive me?”

  She turned to her mother for support. But her mother couldn’t even look at her.

  “Only God can forgive you,” she said.

  Mary Katherine could have dealt with her father hitting her for the rest of the day. But she couldn’t stand one second of her mother’s disappointment. Within moments, her father returned with a doctor that Mary Katherine didn’t recognize.

  “Hello, Mary Katherine. I’m Dr. Green,” he said. “We are going to give you a mild sedative.”

  He gave a look to the nurse, who began to clean her arm with a cotton ball and some antiseptic.

  “It’s just to help you with the move,” Dr. Green continued.

  “What move? Am I going home now?” she said.

  “No. You’ll be staying here for a while.”

  “Dad, what’s going on?”

  Her father wouldn’t look at her.

  “Mom?”

  Her mother was silent. It only took Mary Katherine another moment to realize that they all thought she was insane. She started to struggle, but within seconds, some orderlies rushed in from the hallway.

  “Please, Mom. Don’t let them do this.”

  “We’re going to get you help, honey,” her mother said.

  “Mom, it’s an immaculate conception. You taught me this my whole life.”

  The orderlies grabbed her. She rocked her body backward to break their grip, but they were too strong.

  “NO!” she screamed. “PLEASE!”

  The doctor pulled out the syringe.

  “I’M NOT LYING! I SWEAR ON MY SOUL! PLEASE! SOMETHING TERRIBLE IS HAPPENING!”

  The doctor shoved the needle into Mary Katherine’s arm. Within seconds, she went limp with the sedative, and right before she fell into a deep sleep, she looked at her mother.

  “Mom,” she said in a calm voice. “Please, don’t let them take me.”

  She saw her mother turn away as the orderlies dragged her out of the room.

  “You need help, Mary Katherine,” the doctor said. “It’s time.”

  Chapter 86

  Mrs. Henderson drove the sheriff’s car toward the elementary school. She kept the scanner on, listening for any sign of a manhunt. But there was none. In fact, the radio had been silent since she ran from the sheriff’s office, leaving him and the deputies bleeding to death. Earlier in the day, she was confused by the silence. Then, she was elated. She realized she had done her job. At least the first part of it.

  There were no police left in Mill Grove.

  When she arrived at Mill Grove Elementary School, Mrs. Henderson parked the sheriff’s car in her usual spot. She watched the sun disappear from the school playground. Such a big beautiful sun. Son. The son that Mr. Henderson never gave her. He said it was her fault, but when she went to the doctor, she learned her parts were fine. But would her husband get checked? Oh, no. He was too busy screwing around. God, she wanted to stab him again. She wanted to stab him again and again and have him never die. Just stab him again and again for eternity and have his blood run down the slide of the school playground. Right past the four-square court and the swing set.

  Mrs. Henderson looked into the school. The hallways were empty. The doors locked. So, she reached back and broke the window to the library with her fist. The glass cut her fingers to ribbons, but she didn’t mind. As long as her hands were healthy enough to stab, that’s all that mattered. Mrs. Henderson pulled herself through the window and walked into the library.

  She’d only been in jail for a little while, but the library was much smaller than she remembered it. The little desks and tables. The bookshelves placed a little lower so that smaller hands could find bigger words. The art projects from poor, drunk Ms. Lasko’s class. Little handprints dipped in paint and turned into little paintings of Thanksgiving turkeys. She saw that one of them was made by Christopher.

  Such a shame what was about to happen to him.

  Mrs. Henderson climbed on top of her old desk. She removed a white panel in the ceiling and pulled out an elegant leather suitcase. She had hidden the bag in the ceiling right after the blizzard. She didn’t know why at the time. It seemed strange, but a little voice told her that she might need it. A little voice told her that it was very romantic to hide a little weekend bag in the library just in case Mr. Henderson ever wanted to surprise her with a spontaneous trip.

  For weeks, she had pictured her husband saying, “Darling, I want to whisk you away to a little bed-and-breakfast. I want to thank you for giving me the last fifty years of your life. It’s just too bad we aren’t packed already.”

  And she would reply, “We are!”

  Then, she would show him the little weekend bag. He would be proud of how perfectly packed it was. He would be moved by his thoughtful wife. He would realize that he couldn’t love her more when he saw what she packed for them.

  1 change of clothes

  2 pairs of fresh underwear

  1 pair of hiking boots

  And of course, a butcher knife, duct tape, rope, zippers, thread, a dozen sewing needles, and 300 yards of black yarn that she got on sale at Jo-Ann Fabric

  Perfect for a we
ekend getaway.

  The getaway never happened, of course. Fridays came and went, and Mr. Henderson never asked to whisk her away to a B&B for some red wine, birdwatching, and lovemaking. There was no ballet. No symphony. No Broadway musical at Heinz Hall. Not even a first-run movie. God, she wanted to stab him. Still, it was lucky that she packed away this little romantic bag because she needed these supplies for tonight.

  Mrs. Henderson climbed off her old desk and said a proper goodbye to the library. She had spent fifty years in it, and she knew she would never see it again. At least with her own eyes. She walked past the bookshelves and grabbed one book as a souvenir. One book for eternity. The book was Frankenstein. The copy that Christopher had read.

  Mrs. Henderson, Christopher is on the computer.

  Mrs. Henderson, write to Christopher on the computer.

  Mrs. Henderson, get the copy of Frankenstein.

  Mrs. Henderson, underline these letters.

  Mrs. Henderson, make them think David Olson is helping them.

  The voice promised her something in return. This time, her husband would respect her. This time, her husband would appreciate her. This time, her husband would love her. And it could still happen if she did a good job tonight.

  Mrs. Henderson brought the book and her weekend bag to the nurse’s office. She stripped off her bloody clothes and rinsed her body off in the sink. She cleaned and dressed the wound that the sheriff’s bullet left in her side. She cleaned up her sliced fingers. Then, she opened up the bag and put on the fresh clothes. Ahhhh. The soft cotton and sturdy boots felt good against her skin. She felt like herself again. That young girl of twenty-three who came to this school with all of her passion and education. The young girl who was going to change the world one student at a time. Starting with that first class. And that one special little boy. David Olson. And her last class. With that other special boy. Christopher Reese. She remembered when he first came to school. He couldn’t read a book for first graders. And now, he was more than a genius. Now, he was almost God. So much to ask of a little brain. So much to ask of a little body. It’s such a shame what would happen to him.

  But they all had their jobs to do.