Of Illusory Fancy; My Imaginary Friend's Human

At this point, his voice resembled something distant. When my names rolled off his tongue and into the air, my brain noted an acquaintance with some aspect of it, which aspect I couldn't tell. His verbalization, if he indeed was my cherished imaginary friend, had undergone the modifications and deepening that come along with puberty, but underneath his manliness I distinguished the known voice that pertained to Maxy. But Maxy was but another figment of my imagination, how could he possibly been this guy in front of me? It wasn't fitting together quite like a puzzle should, unfortunately. Maxy vanished when I no longer needed him in my life, when I outgrew him. I never saw Maxy with my own eyes, not once. My comprehension on how he could be human was passed me.

He couldn't be. I, one who tended to live in complex fantasies saw the present reality in the current situation. Anderson certainly lied straight through those white teeth of his. It was absurd, but it didn't change the verity that the intimacy, the information he held about Laetus, referring to me as 'Princess', knowledge on Maxy, proved that he possibly doesn't utter a single fib.

'Maybe Gray hypnotized me and through the hypnotization he discovered all of this,' I thought dumbly.

“Look, I don't know why you're doing this, but you're not Maxy,” I seethed at him, my hand clutching my sweats my anger poured into the strength my hand possessed. “Maxy's not real.” I lied.

To me, Maxy was everything but fake. He dragged me out of my struggles and aided me in ignoring conflicts, if even for a few hours a day. With the sensitivity I had for Maxy, I refused to accept what Gray told me. It was blasphemy in the making. My plashes of emerald stone witnessed him, Gray Anderson in flesh and bone, breathing before me. Maxy's breath I recalled often feeling, but never seeing him take a true breath. That was the only incoherence at the moment. I could [i[see Gray and Maxy I never ever could.

“I expected as much. You've changed Princess.” Melancholy dripped with each of his words as he dully latched his hand onto his luggage, the torments of defeat among his facial features.

This stunned me, caused the carbon dioxide my lungs intend on releasing to hitch in my throat. The cold emphasis he placed on Princess was fogged by an undeniable hostility. He stood, erect, taking a full view of the den as he first did upon entering and sauntered over to the door. The echoes from his footsteps pounded in my ears and once in my brain they begun the same action. Handicapped from the ability to take any action, I could only observe his lean figure as he took the walk of shame towards the exit and entrance to my apartment.

“Why do you have that suitcase?”

It was an inquiry that bounded my mind since my initial confrontation with him. It was a stupid question; I was enlightened to that, but what else could I say? I had to impede him from departing, at least for the time being that I necessitated some answers, a explanation as to what reasons, what logic impelled him to even make an appearance at my door step.

“Suitcases are for holding clothes,” he retorted. He angled his head back in my direction, the remainder of his body still facing towards the door. I heard the grind of the brass knob as it rotated slowly beneath Gray's firm grasp on it.

“Clothes? Why are you c-carrying clothes?” I rose from the couch, disregarding my bafflement for in seconds he would have given me a straightforward answer. After all, through this short amount of time with this guy that's one thing I'm certain of: He's straightforward . . . when he wants to be.

“Because Serenity, I'm homeless as of yesterday.” The growing animosity didn't seem to dissolve, no. It morphed, magnified as I'm analyzed him, ogling and gaping at him. His emotions towards me solidified in the air, making it hard for me to inhale a full, replenishing amount of oxygen. And again, the venom that lurked in my very name gave me chills, but I continued my questioning.

“Why'd you come here?”

“Because I thought you were different. . .” Said venom leaked out and in selfish replacement came in the remorse and resent. The remorse that he shouldn't have made an appearance here at my apartment.

“How do you know about Maxy, about everything else? If this is your idea of a joke, it's really not funny!”

A shrill factor overflowed my appalled mini-rant while my head shook in denial. Gray Anderson and Maxy, my imaginary friend did not have an iota of a connection. Or did they? I scolded myself and in my head warned myself to not make this lay of the land a reverie. It was something I had to often remind myself with.

“If it were a joke, I'd be laughing and I know all of this because I'm not lying.” Gray grimaced grimly in disapproval of which direction the situation began to lead to. His prime sarcasm paved the way for the honesty that invaded his statement.

My whimsical side, the princess in me ignited a rebellion. I wished I could believe him, but the side of me that had firm feet on the ground didn't let me. She urged me with such indescribable persistence, but I placed a miniscule grain of trust into my visitor.

“Don't expect me to believe that. For one thing, I do have a heart and I'm not going to let you sleep on the streets.”

A flash of relief lit up his face, which died as the pride that one can find in every assertive man forced him to decline with a rocking head; his eyes though, informed me other wise.

“Bye Serenity.”

The door flew open with a rapid swing of his brawny arm. The guilt prodding at me, I refused to let him step out through that damn door.

“It's cold out there. You're a stranger, but I'll never be able to live with the thought that you slept in the streets because I let you.” I brushed a loose strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear as a frown crossed my lips.

Did my sub-conscience still negate to rule out the super slim chance that the lies I thought he said were nothing but the pure truth?

This time, I got a reaction from him as my beseeching voice withdrew its lingering in the air. He spun around, somewhat of a glower up to the present time on his face. His slight defiance for me didn't dissipate, but somehow he constrained a nod from his obstinate self.

“Where will I be sleeping?”

I smiled like a naïve girl, but received nothing of the sort from him. Then a mini-sized horror struck me. I had no idea premeditated in my head as to what I could have done if Carter happened to drop by. Shoving Gray into a closet seemed the most sound of things to do because really there wasn't much else I could do. If Carter became known of Gray's presence jealousy and rage would poke at him without relent until he bashed Gray's face in, satisfying both malevolent forces that urged him in the beginning.

“If my boyfriend comes I'm going to have to do the slutty thing and hide you in my closet!” I confessed, a light tinge of pink air brushing my cheeks. I displayed cheer to comfort my “guest” but it was crystal clear that on the inside, havoc clutched onto everything.

Proceeding his sneer, his head bobbed up and down calmly, his hands being shoved into the pockets of his jeans; a cool demeanor he kept and one that I envied.

“You hungry,” I asked. I tried to push aside all the turmoil that entrapped me at the moment.

He adjourned in quiet and I took that as an arrogant guy's form of a 'Yes, I'm starving, but I'm too shy and cool to admit it.' A bit weirdly and feeling Gray's weighted stare, I grabbed the bronze keys to my car from the dark wooded lamp stand.

“Let's go.”

Pacing to my car, not paying any mind to the night's chill, I caught sight of my black Dodge Neon, the scrape on the side tainting it's solid color. A lengthy story, short, I ran into the stop sign two blocks from the Ventana Ranch apartments with the car that somehow still held its charm. I hadn't requested for a newer and more glamorous car from my grandparents because I was attached to the the carelessly treated car. So much strange and unforgettable things went down in there. It was unspeakable to advertise to anyone that I longed for a replacement.

I asked Gray what his stomach was in the mood for and he replied with a shrug of his broad shoulders, his eyes fixated on the window. As my guest I had to let him choose what he craved. I wasn't one to make decisions easily, always seeking the opinion's of others.

“McDonalds, I don't really care.” From the corner of my right eye I saw his hand rake through his hair, his browns planted onto the dessert scenery of Albuquerque.

“Mickey D's it is,” I announced as I spotted the golden arches amongst the ocean of still and flickering lights. Once in front of the back lit menu and the speaker, Gray communicated his order to me. Then I combined mine with his, informing the young girl behind the speaker. Once the food iwasgiven to me, I handed it to Gray, who placed the sack, the smell of grease wafting from it, onto his lap.

Is it me or does he too realize how awkward this is?

On the way back home, I pondered him with questions similar to the ones he prodded me with for his so called survey, which ended up being nothing but a manufactured lie in order to infiltrate the premises of my house. Strike one. I sounded like a child, questioning him with so much things. So far, I uncovered that he was nineteen and all attachments he had with his mother and father were chopped off the very day he came into the world. They gave him up for adoption, the pretext being that such a miserably living couple could not sustain his wailing mouth with daily nourishment.

Back at my apartment, I fell back onto the leather couch while Gray shuffled to the brown velvet recliner. We ate in terrible silence, so terrible, that I found that after so much chewing it seemed that swallowing was a new thing for me. The lump of masticated food clogged my throat but one way or another my body forced it down. Then it dawned on me, had I finally reached the dreaded level of insanity? I was letting a stranger take lodging in my house. Even if he was around my age, even if he did argue that he happened to be Maxy, it was a thing I couldn't bring any sort of sense to. What if this guy had the guts in him to hurt me, steal from me, or even worse, kill me? The thoughts were preposterous, but they attained precaution in them.

I was not dead with fear of Gray Anderson for I had a little dare devil inside of me, but that didn't mean my mind shouldn't have been preoccupied with worries and concerns relating to Gray. If I possessed a credit card I could have got him a hotel, but I didn't; the option of doing that summed up to a whole lot of nothing and if the information that I housed a random guy off of the streets reached my grandmother, the sweet old lady would probably have had a heart attack. I shuddered at thought as I vowed to myself to not ever tell her anything pertaining to Gray. If she did happen to learn of his residence in my apartment, I'd follow it up with “Gray's an old friend.” Technically that's not misinforming because Gray did claim to be my imaginary friend. Even though the chances of that were slim to none, it wouldn't be a full blown fib.

With a detachment growing to the real world, I showed Gray where he could find a fair share of towels, tooth brushes, and things of the sort. It began to sink into the both of us how odd this really was. I said words that were crucial. Small talk around the time felt too wrong. He failed in thanking me, but nodded his head as he reached for a beige towel, the soft fabric crunching under his fingers. Our eyes clicked together one last time, jagged shards of emeralds impacting with crystalline honey, light refracting their dark nature. Tearing my eyes from his, I realized I tried to decipher whether he resided in honesty or the opposite.

As I waddled away tiredly to my room all my memories of Maxy flung into my head whether I wanted them there presence or not. The hitched air in my throat was a proper indication of this flood of reminiscences. Not only that, but the vivid memories of a little me talking aloud, no one else present but myself, being responded by another were too much to digest. But I created Maxy, so that distinct voice sprouted from my inner mind. Therefore, he wasn't in existence by any means.

Why did I keep having to refresh my memory with that well known fact?

Mouth slightly parted and eyes glued onto the plain ceiling above me, I couldn't avoid repeating that final question I made myself. The sound of water pattering against the shower walls suffused the small apartment, the light noise coming from just down the tiny hall, that can only house about two people in comfort at the same time.

I blinked away the sleep that taunted me and whispered behind my brain.

A nineteen year old man, who proclaimed to be my concocted, childhood partner happened to be in residence with me. Things like this did not occur. It's irregular, too far fetched; this should not had happen in real life. The situation effected to no normality. It was a thing you would learn of from a storybook, from a tall-tale, which happened to always grow out of proportion. It was the sort of abnormal thing one would experience in Laetus.

'I'll let this guy live with me until he finds a substantial job. . . We'll live under the same roof as normally as attainable,' I told myself, easing my trembling soul.

How could we have lived normally?

It was like planting a sunflower seed and expecting a rose.

The matter at hands was in no way normal at all. So, why did it cross my hopes that the aftermath would hold habituation?