by Andre Fenton
I hesitated. I couldn’t just say, Hey, Tia. Last night I ran into my imaginary friend and he brought me back to the place where we’re sitting now, only it was ten years ago. To be fair, I had tried telling her about Clay when we were kids, but she didn’t believe he was actually real.
“C’mon,” she pressed. “It’s gotta be something. I’ll pry it out of you.”
I knew she could. But that didn’t mean I would let her.
“I don’t know. It’s just weird being back here after being away for so long…everything I knew here is gone. I actually had a dream I was here at Cape Forchu last night.”
“Oh, yeah? Is that why you wanted to come here?”
“Yeah, I guess. But it wasn’t like other dreams. It felt so real.”
“Was it, like, a lucid dream?”
I didn’t know how to explain something I didn’t understand, and I knew if I told Tia the truth it would sound ridiculous. So I just shrugged.
“I don’t know. Everything is just weird. It’s home, but everything is different, y’know?”
Tia nodded and looked out at the ocean again. “That is a rough place to come back to, and you have a lot going on. I guess it makes sense to dream about it. What else would you really be thinking about?”
She had a point, but it wasn’t the point I was trying to make.
“You said your dad was still here,” she continued. “Have you been thinking about him more?”
That question threw me off guard. I suppose it was an easier segue then speaking about an imaginary friend.
“Yeah…I have been thinking about him,” I said in a low voice.
“This town is small.”
“It is. I know. Mom never speaks about him.”
“I’m sure she has her reasons.”
“And I have mine for wanting to know.”
“Fair point.” Tia shrugged.
I didn’t even know what he looked like. I wondered if I had his laugh, or his smile, or his eyes. All I really knew was that he was white, and that’s why my skin was lighter then everyone else’s in my family. I didn’t look white by any stretch; my brown skin and long braids made it clear who I was. But I was always curious about my other half. Being half black to us always just meant you were black. But I knew I must have a bunch of white cousins somewhere. I wondered if they would like me—not that I needed their validation, but they were still blood, whoever, and wherever, they were.
“I always wanted a father–daughter relationship,” I admitted. “When Mom spent a lot of time away, I spent too much time daydreaming of fatherly figures from sitcoms.”
Tia gave me a sympathetic nod. “Is that what you’re hoping to find with him?”
“I don’t think it’ll end up like that,” I explained. “At the end of the day, he’ll still be a stranger.” I thought for a minute. “I guess what I really want is clarity. I want to know why he wasn’t around, why he chose not to be in my life. He must have had the opportunity. I don’t know…sorry to just unload.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Tia said. “Those thoughts are normal, and real. Are you hoping to search for him soon?”
“It might be a lost cause, it probably is. But we’ll see I guess.”
We sat and watched the water for a while. I wanted to tell her what was actually on my mind, but I knew deep down I couldn’t.
Later that afternoon I went back home to explore Grampy’s study. He loved calling it that even though it was just a spare room on the ground floor. I just wanted to be near a space he’d spent time in. His desk was full of papers I wasn’t supposed to go through, but I did anyway. They were marked grades he never got around to logging in his computer. It was actually really sad. Curious, I went through some of them. I came across an essay by Tia. I skimmed most of it but I saw she received an 89 percent. Not bad.
I opened up one of his drawers to find a picture frame. The photo inside showed the same woman who was in the photo album in the attic. The photo itself was different, though: the woman looked a lot skinnier and she didn’t have any hair. But she still had a large smile. I tried not to overthink it since I already had enough on my mind.
I put the papers and frame away and made my way towards my bedroom, but I could hear R&B drifting up from the living room. I followed the noise and saw Mom in her own space, completely zoned out. She didn’t even notice me come in. She had a canvas standing in the middle of the living room and she was creating a new world. Mom created worlds like I did, only in a different way—I required a journal, she had her canvas.
“Anna.” Mom noticed me. “I didn’t hear you come in. How was hanging with Tia?”
“It was fine. We went to the lighthouse.” I looked around. “Where’s Nan?”
“Lillian took her for a walk. Said she wanted me to relax a bit…so I did this.” She moved out of the way and showed me what she was working on. I saw the backyard recreated. It had everything—the tree house on the right, lake in the background, firepit in the foreground, and a lawn of bright green grass.
“They say one of the best ways to help with the grieving process is to create,” she said, considering the canvas. Then she sighed and turned to me. “I haven’t seen you much since we made it back. How are you keeping up, Anna?”
“As well as I can, I guess. A week ago I just…wouldn’t have expected any of this.”
Mom nodded. “I know. It’s hard to adjust to changes like this. I wanted you to get out today and get used to the town a bit again, because there are more changes to come.”
I looked her in the eye. “What do you mean, more changes?”
Mom sighed. “Remember when I said we were going to be here a while?”
“Yes. How long is a while?”
“Well, long enough for you to register for school.”
Everything just slowed down when she said that.
I was supposed to finish grade eleven in Halifax, and this summer I would start saving up and applying for colleges.
“What?”
She rushed to explain: “Most schools wouldn’t take in a student this late in the year, but Grampy was well loved here. You’re lucky.”
“I’m lucky? Mom, I don’t want to stay here.”
“I know, sweetheart. But we don’t have a choice right now. Your grandmother is in a bad spot. Your grandfather was her main caretaker and Ben and Lillian are getting up there with age.”
Everything inside me dropped. I was frustrated, mad, and wanted to be anywhere but there. I wanted to cry, but I kept my composure.
“Mom, I can’t just leave my life in Halifax behind!”
“You’re not. You’re starting anew.” She paused. “Look, I know you wanted to save up money this summer but maybe you can get a job here? I’m sure there are some shops you can apply to. We just need to be close. For Nan.”
“I don’t want to be close. Nan doesn’t even remember me. That’s messed up, for real. I can’t handle it. Being near her makes me want to burst into tears and—” my throat began to tighten up and I knew tears were coming. I tried my hardest to fight it.
“Anna, I know.” Mom put a hand on my shoulder. “It hurts me too—she’s my mom. But she’s going through a difficult time.”
“There’s no one here for me!” I managed to get out. I knew that wasn’t true, but I also wanted to make a point. “Everyone I cared about is either dead, or doesn’t remember me.”
Now all of a sudden Mom wanted to be close? If she wanted to be close, she shouldn’t have made us leave in the first place. If she wanted to be close she should have brought us back here before Grampy died.
“I have to go,” I told Mom in a frustrated voice.
“Where?”
“To be alone.”
I stomped up to my room and slammed the door.
I ended up just lying in my bed for a while. The mental gymnasti
cs of navigating this last week made my body ache, but my mind was wide awake. I didn’t know if I could handle school in Yarmouth. I didn’t really know anyone here besides Tia. I was sure people would recognize me from elementary, but no one would really know me. I would just be the sympathy case—Mr. Brooks’s granddaughter. I was a loner in Halifax, but I could get away with it there. In a small town? Not remotely.
I felt lost and didn’t know how to find a way out.
Eventually I drifted off and awoke to moonlight crashing through my window and lighting up the room. The closet door was open and I could still see Clay written on the wall inside. I wanted to find him again, but wasn’t sure when he’d come back. I knew where the journal was, and that he was attracted to it. I had parked the truck back in the garage and the journal was in the glove compartment. I knew I had to be gentle, so when I went out to the garage, I took the journal out and just spoke to it while sitting in the back of the truck. Somehow, I knew that would get his attention.
“Hey, dude. Wanna talk about last night?” I asked. “I’m going to be in Yarmouth a while, I guess, so it looks like I have lots of time.”
There was no ta-da moment where Clay appeared. It’s not like he was a genie in a bottle—he was his own thing. I lay in the bed of the truck thinking of a way to make him come out.
“You know, we had a lot of adventures when we were young,” I spoke aloud. “Clay, I’m so sorry I left. I honestly didn’t think you would wait all this time.”
I didn’t realize how awful that last part sounded until I said it out loud.
“Listen, I know. I’m an asshole. You have every right to give me the silent treatment.” I stopped to gather my thoughts. I just wanted him to understand. “I do appreciate what you did for me last night, though. It felt like a gift. And honestly, Clay, so much has changed in ten years. I wanted to come back but we just never did. Some things are out of my control. I never wanted to hurt you, and I’m sorry that I did.”
Still nothing.
I waited a few more moments and said, “What is it that you want?”
I felt him swipe the journal out of my hand from above. I looked up, and there he was.
“Holy crap!” I screamed. I dropped into the bed of the truck “You scared me.” I said. “What’s your deal, man?”
“So, everyone you loved is either dead or forgot about you?” He was upset. “Last time I checked, Anna, I’m alive. And I never ever forgot about you!”
“Wait, what are you talking about?”
Then it clicked. I had said those exact words to Mom earlier. “Clay, I didn’t mean that, I was just angry. And anyway: how did you hear that?”
“You think I’m not always close by?” he demanded. “Did you forget that about me?”
Right, I thought, Clay can make himself invisible. Given what I said, I felt a hundred times worse knowing he was there and had to hear it.
He still had that look of hurt on his face. God, I had really messed up with him. There was a lot I had to own up to, and be accountable for. In some weird way, I had brought Clay into this world, and I had abandoned him in it.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, even thought I knew full well the words weren’t enough. “Is there anything I can do? We can go for a drive? Buy some food?”
“It isn’t that easy.” Clay let out a breath. “You couldn’t have just sent a letter I would find? You couldn’t have asked your grandparents to send you the journal?” He looked like he was fighting back tears.
“There’s so many things that I could have done differently, Clay, and believe me, if I could have, I would have. Please, please believe that.”
“You’re only saying that because you thought I would be gone.” He wiped the tears from his eyes. “Well, here I am. A little bigger than when you left.”
“But I’m back now,” I said. “I’m here to spend time with you.”
He scoffed at that. “You’re here because your grandfather died, Anna, not to see me. I’m the afterthought of your story, so you’ll forgive me for not jumping for joy and riding off into the sunset with you. You never cared. You don’t even wanna be here!”
Ouch.
“Clay, please. I know what you’re going thro—”
“No you don’t,” he cut me off. “How do you know what it feels like, waiting for someone who doesn’t even think about you?”
The truth was I did know what that felt like, but I didn’t think it was my place to say so. Not then.
“What do you even want from me?” Clay asked me.
He had waited for me all those years and he grew just like me. He looked to be around the same age as me, had similar hair, and was dressed in my grandfather’s old sweater. I knew I had been a bad friend. Not just to him, but to everyone. I was flaky, and I recognized that I sometimes only put in work towards friendships if it benefitted me. I thought about Tia’s thoughtful questions and patient presence, and wondered how I could be more like her. I knew had to work on it.
But there were also a few things I needed to know.
“How did you do that thing last night? Did we time travel?”
“No,” he said. “It’s not time travel.” He looked between the journal in his hands to my face. “When you were young, you filled most of these pages with your imagination. I was part of that.”
“I know. I know,” I cut in. “I remember the first time I wrote about you in there. It was after the first day of grade primary and I had hated it. I didn’t make any friends, and Tia was in a different class.” Memories came back to me.
Clay looked me in the eyes and his began to glow blue. Everything around us turned pitch black. The garage, the truck, the tools—they all just faded away. Suddenly desks and walls lifted from the ground, and the floor below my feet turned into tiles. My jaw dropped. I turned around and everything was…different.
“This was it,” I managed to whisper. “My first day of school.”
“I know,” Clay replied. He crossed his arms, annoyed. “Go on.”
“I just remember during recess, I had what felt like a panic attack. I stayed inside and hid under my desk, away from everyone. The only thing I had was my journal. Grampy had given it to me that morning. He told me it was a gift—a good luck charm—and that it used to be his. He wanted me to write about my first day.”
I could see a little girl who looked just like me. She was sitting on the floor under a desk, drawing and writing nonsense in her journal. I walked over for a better look: I saw the outline of a person who looked like Clay.
“You’re doing it again,” I said. “But this time I’m just observing.”
I watched my younger self—I looked frightened, scared, and out of place. I remember drawing Clay, but I had had no idea he would actually become real.
I looked over at him now, and his eyes glowed blue again. The classroom around us turned pitch black. A few moments later the darkness faded into what looked like my bedroom, except the walls were brighter and the bed was different. I could see my younger self lying on the bed, face in the pillow, crying. Grampy was patting me on the back. This was after my first day of school. I had locked myself in my room until Grampy finally convinced me to let him in.
“I never wanna go back!”
“Why not?” Grampy asked. “I used to love going to school when I was young! There are so many new and interesting people to meet.”
I remember being scared to tell Grampy I didn’t want to meet any new people because they all made fun of my name. Earlier that day we all had to write our names on cue cards. I had written my full name: Annaka. Bobby, the boy Tia used to have a crush on, picked it out of the hat going around. He read it out loud and then said with a smirk: “What kind of name is Annaka?” Everyone laughed. I felt so embarrassed; I didn’t even want to go outside for recess. So I hid under my desk.
But I watched as Gramp
y patted my back, kissed my cheek, and gently said, “Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow morning I’ll make you pancakes, sausages, and eggs. Does that sound better?” He poked me until I heard my younger self giggle. Nobody made pancakes like Grampy could.
After Grampy left, I saw myself get out of bed. He never realized how sneaky I could be. I watched as I went under the bed and grabbed a box—inside were toy airplanes and cars. I watched as I began playing with them. Those were the simpler times; the times I wished could last forever. Before moving, before high school, before everything.
I knew what was coming next. I had gotten so lost in my imagination with the toys that I didn’t notice the noise at first. But soon I heard a creeeak coming from my closet. It got louder, and louder. I jumped up, and I knew I was remembering what Tia used to tell me: that she had monsters in her closet and they would come for me too someday. I turned around and jumped back into my bed.
“Who’s there?” I called out. There was no reply.
The creaking suddenly stopped, and the closet door opened slowly.
I could see my younger self scramble backwards, eventually freezing against the wall. I had been so scared I couldn’t even scream.
For a second, there was nothing but darkness. I waited, too scared to say anything. That was, until a small, round-faced grey figure stepped out. He didn’t look like a monster at all.
“Hi,” was all he said in a shy voice. He looked scared, out of place, and like he didn’t know what to do.
I pulled myself out of the memory for a moment and looked over at Clay, seeing how much he had grown over the years. He was now taller than me. His voice was deeper. Now he had hair, and looked much more, well, human.
“Who are you?” I heard my voice and looked back.
“I don’t know,” the little grey figure replied. “I’m me, I guess.”
Little Anna got on her feet and walked towards the closet. I used to tower over him when I was young. My younger self grabbed his hand and said, “Your hands are soft and grey. Just like…clay. Can I call you Clay?”
Then just like that, everything vanished into darkness.