IMMAGINARIO

by C. L. Monaghan

  “Do you know how it makes me feel bella? When you tell me I’m not real? It hurts. It feels like you don’t love me enough to want me in your life.” His voice cracked a little and a lump caught in my throat. I pushed my plate aside and scooted over to sit beside him, my hand reaching for his.

  “Joe no! The reason you’re here is because I love you so much. This…” I gestured to us both with my hand, “this, what we have together is nothing less than a miracle. I have no idea how or why it happened but it did. And I’m so so grateful for it. Think about it Joe, you can’t remember your accident because you were never in one. Your memories of Italy and your own family are unclear because Italy is just part of the story and your parents never existed. You remember Melissa because she is the original love interest in your story. You didn’t even know if you could drive! Neither did I, isn’t that something I would know?” I was on a roll now as Joe sat quietly listening, his fingers picked at the hearth rug. “I’m not trying to hurt you Joe, really I’m not. I’m trying to get things straight in my own head. I can cope with the fact we had a wedding that I don’t even remember and that my family live in another country, because it means I get you.” I took a cleansing breath; I was aware of how fast I was talking but I just needed Joe to hear me. “It doesn’t matter to me what you were, it matters what you are. You are my everything, Joe. Without you I might as well not exist.”

  “Hey, don’t talk like that. Your life has value Naomi, don’t ever think it doesn’t.”

  “But it’s nothing without you in it.”

  “This all sounds totally crazy. I just…” He shook his head and I thought I saw a hint of a tear forming in his eye. “I love you Naomi. I want to be here for you, with you but I just can’t go along with this…this fiction.” He let out a string of Italian none of which I understood but I could sense the desperation in his tone. My heart cried out to him.

  “Joe, please,” I begged, “if you love me like you say you do, help me find Laney Marsh. I promise you everything will make sense after that. Please Joe?” His gaze met mine and I felt his eyes searching for evidence of truth in my own. “Joe, help me fight for us? I can’t do this without you. We have to find Laney.” Silence filled the air as I waited anxiously for his response. After a few tense moments passed he faced me.

  “I don’t know what is going on with you baby, I really don’t but I meant it when I said that I love you and I will be here for you. I will help you find this woman if only to put this ridiculous pretence to bed once and for all. Once we find her, I want you to promise me that after you’ve spoken to her, it ends. No more of this fantasy or whatever it is you have convinced yourself this is. You go back home and continue your sessions with the doctor.” It wasn’t a question; he was telling me. Part of me grew annoyed at being told how to behave. My rebellious streak wanted to protest but I had to tell myself that to win the war, I must win it battle by battle and so I reluctantly agreed.

  Joe finished his food without another word, his eyes on his plate, paying my glances no heed. I stood and took our plates through to the kitchen area to wash them up. I was muttering angrily to myself, scrubbing the plates furiously and dumping them unceremoniously on the draining board when I heard a door bang. I shouted through to the lounge.

  “Joe?” No reply came back. “Joe?” Again, no reply. Curiosity got better of me and drying my hands off on the towel, I went to investigate. The lounge was empty. I walked to the bedroom but Joe wasn’t in there either. “Joe? Are you in the bathroom?” I looked in every room but Joe had gone. Panic constricted my lungs. Shit! Had he walked out again like he had the last time we had argued? Goddamn idiot Italian, there was a bloody storm outside! I ran to open the front door but was confronted with the onslaught of the storm. The wind was so strong it almost pushed me back from the doorway and the driving cold rain tore into my face. “Joe?” I shouted into the wind, “JOE!” Nothing. I stood in the doorway shivering, battling the wind when a terrifying thought struck me- what if it had ended? What if Laney had written more of her manuscript and now Joe had disappeared, back to where he came from? I ran to the lounge where my satchel was and yanked it open, pulling out the sheet of A4s of my manuscript. My frantic fingers flicked to the latest pages at the back and I saw new text appearing before my eyes. I stared wide eyed in horror, a defiant scream rent from me, “NO!” Seizing the last page in both hands, I tore it up. Cursing it, yelling at it whatever it was that Joe was mine. It was at that moment I heard a muffled shout from outside the cottage- Joe? It sounded distant and I couldn’t work out which direction it had come from, front or back? “Joe, where are you?” I was desperate now. Surely he hadn’t been stupid enough to go for a walk in this storm?

  Running back to the door, I yanked it back open and listened. I could swear I heard shouts but it was hard to distinguish from the wailing wind. Then a thought occurred to me, I ran to the back door it and flung it open, the rear of the cottage shielded me a little from the force of the gale. It was darker here because the light of the streetlamp failed to reach round this side of the stone cottage but I could just about make out a form on the ground. “Joe!” I flew out into the rain towards him, already soaked to my skin by the time I reached him. He lay on the ground amongst a huge pile of fallen logs, face down in the mud. “Jesus Joe! What the hell happened? Are you OK?”

  “Fell.” Was all he could manage to say. He groaned as I heaved him up to a sitting position and his hand went immediately to his chest.

  “Are you in pain?” Joe nodded and I put my arm around him to help him to his feet. “Let’s get inside, it’s freezing out here.” Between us we managed to get back inside and I helped him hobble to the couch. His hand still clutched his chest and that had me worried. “Joe what the hell were you doing out there?” I asked in earnest while pulling off his walking boots.

  “Wood. I went for wood.” He croaked.

  “What’s wrong with your chest? Are you injured?”

  “Pain. Here.” He sputtered. Oh shit, was he having a heart attack?

  “What can I do?” I asked even though I had no idea what the hell I should do. I picked up my mobile phone but there was no signal. “Shit!” I tried to think what the first aid procedure was for a heart attack but my mind was a total blank. “Joe, I need you to tell me what happened, can you do that?”

  “Went for wood. Was fine. Got pain and fell.” He grunted.

  “Ok. How bad is the pain?”

  “It’s easing a little now,” relief washed over me, at least it wasn’t getting worse, “just need to sit a minute. I’m OK, the fire needs wood.” Joe said. I looked at the wood burner which had gone from roaring flame to a few pitiful embers, if it went out we’d be freezing if this storm went on all night.

  “I’ll see to it don’t worry. You just sit still.” I quickly threw on a couple of the smaller sticks that were generally used as kindling just to get it going again. “I need to go fetch some logs, will you be OK for a few minutes?” Joe nodded.

  “Yes, honestly I’m fine. The pain is gone. I think I just pulled something.”

  I went to change my jumper, which was sodden and muddy, and then pulled on a coat. The storm raged outside and I struggled with the log basket as the wind tried twice to snatch it from my arms. I filled it up as quickly and with as many logs as I could manage before trudging back through the door. The kindling was burning nicely and I threw on a couple smaller logs. They had been stacked and covered outside in a special log store so hadn’t gotten too wet on the short trip to the cottage. The ones that had fallen on the floor where Joe had lain, I had left on the ground. I could pick those up tomorrow.

  I set the fire poker down on the wrought iron companion stand and went back to Joe, who now looked more like his normal self again.

  “We need to get you out of those wet clothes baby before you catch a cold. Do you think you can manage it?”

  “Yes, I’m OK now. Like I said, I think I must’ve pulled a muscle or something lifting
the log basket.” He said and I gave him a questioning look.

  “Looked like more than a pulled muscle from where I was, are you sure you feel OK? You look a little pale.”

  “I’m just cold, I need to change.”

  “Do you need to shower or anything?”

  “Probably, but right now I just want to change and get back to this fire.” Joe shivered on cue and I told him to stay where he was, I’d go get his PJs and he could change into them in front of the fire.

  “PJs? Are you mothering me?” He chuckled.

  “A little bit.” I admitted. “But let’s face it, you’ve had quite an eventful day. Who knew flying and mud were your nemeses!”

  “If this is what you call an adventure, I can’t say I’m particularly enjoying it so far.” His right eyebrow arched upwards.

  “My poor baby.” I said over emphasising my sympathy and patting his head. I got up and heard him mutter.

  “Heartless wench.”

  When I brought his change of clothes to the lounge I held them up to the fire to warm them while he undressed. I couldn’t resist looking at him, he was so beautiful. I drank him in as he pulled off his wet jumper and t-shirt in one go. His lean, muscular torso glinted in the firelight. His arms were raised above his head, tugging off the clothing, when I noticed strange red marks on his skin. The marks looked a lot like long scratches, there were two on his front that went from one side of his chest to the other in a sort of wonky X shape. I brought him his warmed pyjamas and placed them on the sofa. He turned around to pick up the t-shirt and I saw that the marks on his front mirrored the two on his back. Tentatively I reached out and touched one with my finger.

  “Ow!” Joe flinched from my touch. “What was that?”

  “Sorry babe, your skin looks sore. Are you sure you didn’t injure yourself?”

  “I don’t think so.” He tried to twist his head around to look but couldn’t. “I’m really cold though. What do you see?”

  “Scratches.” I said.

  “Maybe a few logs hit my back when I fell?”

  “Yeah, maybe.” I said but these marks didn’t look like anything I’d seen. Frowning, I gathered up his wet clothes from the sofa and a tiny piece of paper fluttered to the floor. I stared at it.

  “I’m going to go wash my hands and face.” Joe said after he pulled on his clean top.

  “OK.” I replied absentmindedly. I bent and picked up the piece of paper, it was torn and had typed text on it. I moved a cushion on the sofa that had fallen forward and found my manuscript under it surrounded by the pieces of the page I had ripped up. The jagged edges looked remarkably like the red marks on Joe’s body. An unpleasant feeling rose in my stomach. The piece that I held in my hand was torn right through the middle of a word…the word was Joe.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Truth Hurts

  Holy fucking shit! A horrifying realisation settled in my mind, I had done this. I had hurt Joe by ripping up the page in the manuscript. That must’ve been the pain he’d felt in his chest, the reason for his fall. Joe was connected to my manuscript and I, of all people, should’ve known that. That manuscript was the reason for his existence and now I knew it could also be his demise. Suddenly the tenuous link I had on this new life with Joe seemed even more fragile. My scruffy pile of papers immediately became an object to be guarded, protected, something that needed to be locked in a safe where nobody would find it. If anything should happen to it I would lose Joe forever. But I was already losing him, to Laney. It became imperative that I find her and stop her from writing anything more about Joe. I had to get him and Laney together, once she met him she would see that he was real. I’d have to confess everything of course but it had to be done. I was willing to accept the consequences of stealing her character, her ideas, if it meant Joe would be safe.

  I carefully scooped up the torn pieces and laid them on top of the rest of the manuscript. Cautiously, I slipped it back into my satchel and took it to the bedroom. I looked around for a safe place to stash it, the tight spot between the wall and the bedside table was the only place I could see that no one would need to go near for any reason. The table hid the satchel from sight but I still felt uneasy. Knowing the power that it held between its thin pages was terrifying and I couldn’t stop myself from pacing up and down the small bedroom, wringing my hands together and gnawing at my bottom lip. I heard Joe come into the room.

  “You’re like a caged animal pacing the room, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, just the storm making me a bit nervous. We’re so close to the sea.”

  “Are you afraid we’ll get swept away?” Joe grinned. I attempted a small smile but it came out more of a grimace. My eyes flicked to the bedside table. Is it safe there? “Don’t worry love, I’d save you. Remember I have super powers.” Joe flexed his biceps at me, flashing me his playful smile.

  “Oh really? Well we should be fine as long as there are no sea planes or mud in the ocean then.” I joined in his banter, hoping it would distract me from my nervous pacing.

  “What did I do to land myself such a sarcastic and unsympathetic wife?” Joe put his hands on his hips, shaking his head in mock chagrin. “Maybe it’s a test? If I put up with you in this life I get to live in luxury in the afterlife eh?” My face dropped, a look of genuine fear replaced the playfulness.

  “Don’t even joke about that. That isn’t funny Joe.” My throat closed in a tight knot at the thought of what could happen to him now that I knew the fragility of the object that anchored him to life. He was by my side in an instant.

  “Hey, I’m just playing with you. I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon.” Joe rubbed my arms with his hands trying to reassure me.

  “Yeah well you shouldn't joke. You never know what’s around the corner.” I said, wracked with guilt that just a moment ago, it had been me that had almost sent him to meet his maker. Worry creased my brow as I began to wonder what would happen to him if the manuscript did get destroyed. Would he die like a normal person and leave behind a physical body or would he just disappear and everything would go back to the way it had been before? Would he go back to being just another fictional character in a book. I shook my head violently trying to rid my head of such morbid thoughts.

  “Come here Mrs Ferrantino. Wild horses couldn’t tear me away from you bella. And if the worst happened I’d come back and haunt you. You’ll never be rid of me.” The irony of his words wasn’t lost on me and I cocked an eyebrow at him. He must’ve realised what he’d said because he tried to make light of it with more banter. “And you know I’m already an accomplished spirit.”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “Yeah, I suppose that subject is a little sore right now huh?”

  “A little. I don’t want to go over old ground again right now Joe.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” We both sat down on the bed next to each other. “I know it’s obviously a sore subject Naomi but at some point, we must talk about everything. I need to understand what happened to me and deal with it just as much as you need to deal with your issues. I’m trying so hard to be patient and give you the time you need to heal but…I need that healing time too. I’m getting on with life in the best way that I can, in the only way I know how and that’s to just carry on living. I don’t want to dwell on the past, it’s over but I still need to know what happened. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes.” Was all I could manage. God what a selfish bitch! I had been so wrapped up in myself and my fear of losing him that I hadn’t given too much consideration to how he must be feeling. I mean I knew that he’d had questions and that he’d been holding back for my sanity’s sake but all I had concentrated on lately was trying to prove to everyone that I wasn’t crazy. I’d been so hell bent on finding Laney and proving to Joe that I’d been telling the truth; I hadn’t truly taken a minute to contemplate what the truth might do to him.

  “I can’t help you like I want to help you because I still have so many
unanswered questions.” Joe squeezed my hand.

  “I’m sorry.” I uttered weakly. I was desperate to tell him that I could give him all the answers, I could prove all of the claims I had made but at what price? He’d already told me that it hurt his feelings when I had told him he wasn’t real. I had totally missed the point. Joe thought he was real. He believed wholeheartedly that I was his wife and that he’d suffered some sort of accident that had put him in a coma. He believed that he had been able to communicate with me while he’d been in a coma and that now everything was OK, or should be at least if it wasn’t for me and my crazy ramblings. Knowing all of this, he had still put me first and I had allowed it. I realised in that moment that I hadn’t treated Joe as a person, an actual living, breathing person with feelings and concerns of his own. I had treated him like an object, an object that I owned. What right did I have to take his beliefs and his life away from him. If I took him to Laney and proved my story, it would crush him. Everything he thought he knew, everything he believed was real would be taken from him and I would be responsible. I could not break his heart like that. But, I still needed to stop Laney from writing. If I didn’t I’d lose Joe anyway, she was writing him a new story and who knows what would happen. I couldn’t take that risk, could I? What if I just let it happen? Would it be the best thing for Joe, to let him drift back into his own story? He could forget me and…and what? No, that was even worse surely, to let a man feel, live and love and then send him back into oblivion? I couldn’t win either way. If I wanted to keep Joe in my world I needed to play the game, I needed to stop trying to prove myself right and just go with it. I needed to love him not objectify him and accept him as a person in his own right.

  Deep down I knew this way of thinking wouldn’t work for too long, there would be problems when Joe needed a doctor or a dentist or if he wanted to learn to drive and could find no evidence of a birth certificate. Even something as mundane as doing our taxes for The Imp would cause problems. Then what? How would I explain all of that? Cross that bridge when you come to it Naomi, I thought. My priority now was to stop Laney Marsh. First thing tomorrow morning I was going to hunt her down and make her listen.