Better than you can imagine

In Frank’s mom’s point of view

What a long day at work. Just another day I guess. Glad to finally be home, I can’t wait to eat some more of that seasoned chicken I made the other night. Mmm so good. Doesn’t even need ketchup or anything. Just pour on some of that marinade and it’s perfect.

I approach the front door to my house and shuffle through my purse for the keys. I can hear talking in the living room. Frank must be home. I open the door and turn my back to Frank as I close the door and put my keys away.

“Hey mom! This is Gerard. He talked me into going to the College Fair today, and I grabbed a college application for Rutgers. I filled out most of it. I just have to write my college essay, get a few letters of recommendation and give the $50 for applying” said Frank, as he was eating while speaking. I can smell pizza. He must have found the money on the counter. More chicken for me!

I’m so happy to hear about Frank applying to college. I’ve always mentioned it to him, but the fact of the matter is, is that I do not know much about the process of applying or getting accepted and being in college. I never went. I went to ‘career institutes’ to get a certificate here and there, but I do not have a degree in anything. Back in my day that was to further your education so you could get a better job. These days you go to college so you can get a job. Not necessarily better, but just be able to get anything. It is much more necessary so I’m really glad that his friend Gerard has positively influenced him into applying and pursuing a career.

“Oh! That’s great baby! So glad to hear it! And Gerard! I’ve heard so much about you, good things, no worries. It’s so nice to finally…” I trail off a little as I turn around to see what Gerard looks like, “meet you…”

I’ve heard so much about him. How he’s a black haired, messy kid who has an artistic grunge to him. I’ve heard that he is an artist who has darkness to him, but a sweetness at the same time. He is smart, but weird. And as I look at the room, apparently he is so dark that… I can’t see him.

There is no one in the room except for me and Frank.

I can see the look of urgency in Frank’s eyes, the look of want and need of approval for his new friend.

His new… imaginary… friend.

His new imaginary friend that eats lunch with him. Rides the bus with him. Has talked him into going to college. Has told him things about the process of applying to and being in college. What to study. Where to go to pursue his dreams. Were these all repressed memories wedged into his brain that was said by teachers and Gerard ‘told’ them to him, when really it’s his brain remembering things that at the time went in through one ear and out the other?

I am concerned. But what can I do to help? How do you explain to a senior in high school that his only friend is not a real person, but a figment of their imagination? How do you accept that your only son has undergone so much mental trauma that his mind is compensating what it can so that he does not fall into a pit of depression and failure? Should I be happy that he is reacting to life this way, or depressed?

I need to talk to a doctor.

I give a small smile, to try to hide my worry, but I can tell that it did not work well. I start to walk towards the kitchen, and before entering I pause.

“I’m sorry boys… I have some… uh… more work to do in the other room. Forgive my manners. Enjoy your pizza,” I said as I enter the kitchen and quickly close the door behind me.

I really need to talk to a doctor.

I find the phone book and quickly flip through the pages.

Doctor? Psychiatrist? Therapist? Psychoanalist? Hypnotic Therapist? What do I even look for?

I remember that I know someone at work whose husband is a therapist. Maybe they can help. I find their number and dial the digits on the phone.

“Hello, Marie? I need to talk to your husband. It’s about my son,” I say in a near whisper, so Frank would not hear me.

“Okay. Let me get him.” I can hear her put the phone on the table as she yelled in a dragged out tone “Thomas! Phone! It’s Jess from my work! She needs to talk to you about her son!” From a distance I hear him yell back “Be right down!”

After a few moments, I hear the phone get picked up off of the table.

“Hello, this is Thomas. How are you Jess?”

I take in a deep breath, and let out a staggered, nervous sigh.

“Thomas… I am concerned for the mental health of my son, Frank. You see… he is a senior in high school. He is actually filling out a college application right now, which is great, I mean… that’s not the problem… the problem is that his father died when he was in middle school… and um… well he lost a lot of friends because of it… he became social outcast after that happened… and now… well… he made a new friend… and I met him today… and well… he kind of… doesn’t exist… My son is a senior in high school and his only friend… is an imaginary one… I was wondering what you think we should do…”

He paused for a moment, cleared his throat, and then began to speak.

“Imaginary friends are a very common thing for a person to have. However, the age cutoff is usually approximately around 10 years old. Furthermore, the ability to tell that the imaginary friend is, indeed, imaginary is also a common occurrence with having said friend. However, there are times when the mind has to resort to making a friend so realistic in order to convince the person to be able to accomplish something, get past something…an imaginary therapist so to speak… Someone there to help get past something that the mind has had trouble getting past. In Frank’s case, this would be the death of his father. Clearly in his subconscious he wishes to go to college and move onto better things, but his mind has had trouble becoming motivated to do such things. Therefore your sons mind has done what Frank was unwilling or unable to do on his own. Hence, the creation of his imaginary friend. It is rare for such a thing to happen at your sons age, however it is not an impossible or unheard of occurrence.”

“So what do you suggest we do? Should I tell him that he has an imaginary friend, or what? How can I accept that my son has lost his mind from this situation to the point of having to have his mind create an imaginary person to comfort him, in ways that I can’t?”

“I can understand your concerns, Jess. My professional opinion on the matter, based solely on the information given, and my education, is that the best thing to do is have him come into my office for some therapy to help him sort out his thoughts with his father’s death. As far as his imaginary friend goes, it seems important for his mental health to not let him know that said friend does not exist. Most people will outgrow their imaginary friend… You said that Frank has applied to a college. Do you know if his ‘friend’ has applied somewhere also?”

“I am sure that he has, since he has told Frank so much about colleges, and has spoken so highly of going and pursuing their career goals.”

“Well, in that case, it seems to me that the problem will solve itself. When your son goes to college, his mind will most likely let go of the imaginary friend, since they will be going to different colleges, pursuing different academic and life goals.”

“I see. That is a good point. I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose you are right, Thomas. So as far as therapy sessions go, can I set an appointment directly with you, or do I need to call your office?”

“Calling my office would be better, since I do not have my appointment book on me. I will give my wife all of the information that you need to know how my therapy works, how payments can be made, and the number of my office. I’ll have her give that to you tomorrow.”
“Thank you so much Thomas. I really appreciate it.”

“You are very welcome, Jess. I look forward to seeing your son. Have a good evening. And don’t worry, your son is not crazy and neither are you. This is just his way of working things out in his mind. He will outgrow his imaginary friend, and everything will be fine.”

“Thank you. Have a good evening also, Thomas. I look forward to seeing you soon. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

I hang up the phone and go to the refrigerator to grab my leftover chicken. I walk to the pantry and get a packet of instant mashed potatoes, and canned string beans. I bring everything over to the stove and start cooking.

“Frankie, can you bring me a can of Pepsi to have with my dinner?” I yell out into the living room.

“Sure mom!” he said, getting up and bringing me one.

“Thank you sweetie. You are the best son a mother could ask for, “ I say, giving him a kiss on the head.

“Thanks mom,” he said, blushing.

I smile as he walks back into the living room.

Everything is going to be fine.