Imaginary Friends

I stared in disbelief. My child’s hands were covered in blood as he stood in the doorway smiling. I could have sworn my jaw was fully on the floor.

“Matt,” I called out, my voice quivering. “I need you to come here, please.”

“One sec-“

“No – NOW! PLEASE!”

Matt came running down the hall and stopped short behind me, nearly knocking me over directly into Seth.

Matt, now standing next to me stared at Seth and neither of us managed to get a word out.

Seth smiled his big, toothless smile. “Jimmy taught me.”

* * *

Seth had started talking to Jimmy when he was just three years old. I remember walking past his bedroom where he was playing with his blocks, and I heard him mumbling to someone. He had the cutest little voice back then. I remember him saying I like my mommy and daddy. They’re nice to me. I smiled and peeked my head in the door. Seth’s blocks were all lined up in a row and he was sitting cross-legged. He was nodding at the invisible friend in front of him. I went on about taking care of the laundry and left Seth to his newfound friend.

By the time Seth was five, he’d started asking us to set a place for him at the table. I did, not thinking too much of it. Kids have imaginary friends, especially only children. I remember the thought flashing in my mind that maybe we should have another. I brushed the thought away and gave all my attention to Seth.

At seven, Seth was becoming more defiant and insistent about Jimmy and us recognizing him as a part of the family. He would get wildly upset if we mentioned that Jimmy wasn’t real and that maybe he should try to make friends with some real kids at school. One night, in a real moment of anger Seth screamed that the kids at school were all fucking assholes and they didn’t deserve his friendship.

Matt yelled and sent Seth to his room for his foul language and we both sat staring at one another in utter disbelief. We weren’t saints in our house, and we absolutely cursed a time or two but nothing to that extent. Baffled, I went to Seth’s room to talk.

“Hey buddy,” I said as I opened the door and sat down next to my tear-stained child on the bed. “We didn’t mean to get so upset but we’re just confused about the language. We don’t talk like that. You don’t talk like that.”

I rubbed his little back as tiny sobs escaped from his mouth.

“Where did you learn those words? From the tv, maybe?”

Seth curled towards me and put his head on my lap. His hot little tears stained my pants.

“Jimmy,’ he replied softly. “Jimmy told me that when I tried to talk to the boys at school but they just made fun of me.”

A small sniffle broke the silence.

“They called me a loser.” More hot little tears dropped from his eyes and felt like daggers on my skin.

What fucking assholes, I thought to myself, still rubbing his back. I wanted to say to him that Jimmy isn’t real and whatever thoughts are happening were in his head but that he couldn’t freak out like that.

Instead, I took a deep breath. “I’m not sure Jimmy should be saying things like that to you. Seven-year-old boys don’t talk like that. Where did Jimmy learn it from?”

“Prison,” Seth replied without hesitation.

My breath caught in my throat. I scanned the room, certain that I was dreaming and that none of this was real. My child didn’t know what prison was, let alone anyone that had been in prison. The edges of my vision blurred. I focused my breathing and timed it to match Seth’s.

“Did you say … prison,” I questioned, my voice lilting at the heaviness of the word.

“Yeah,” Seth replied. “Jimmy was there for a long time. People called him a loser, too. But he showed them.”

I stopped rubbing his back and he looked up at me, all red-cheeked and runny-nosed. His eyes searched mine, looking for safety and understanding. I know mine were wide-eyed and stunned as I tried to focus. The room seemed to get a bit darker. I took in another deep breath.

“Maybe you’ll have to let me meet Jimmy sometime. Other than at dinner, I mean.” I fumbled my words. My tongue felt heavy and dry in my mouth, like a foreign object I couldn’t get rid of. “He doesn’t usually say much.”

Seth giggled and curled into me. He took a deep breath. I felt his little body go limp as he drifted off to sleep feeling safe and sound.

I tucked Seth under the covers and closed his door but a crack. I tip-toed down the stairs and grabbed a bottle of cabernet on the counter. Matt, who was diligently washing the dishes from dinner to turned to look at me. His eyes widened. He turned off the water and rushed to my side, water dripping all over the floor.

“Are you okay,” he asked. “You look a bit green. What happened?”

“Jimmy was in prison,” I replied as I poured a touch too much wine into the glass I was holding. Matt steadied my hand and took the bottle. I took a long, deep drink.

“I’m sorry,” he questioned. “What?”

I closed my eyes and plopped down on the barstool at the end of the island. I took Matt’s hand in mine and as casually as I could explained that Seth told me that his imaginary friend – our seven-year-old son’s imaginary best friend, was an ex-con.

* * *

“Hi Seth. I’m Miss Judy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Miss Judy kneeled and stuck her hand out towards Seth. He clung to me like a scared dog. I brushed my hand through his hair and rubbed his back.

“Miss Judy is the nice lady I told you about, remember?” I smiled down at my little guy’s round face. He was searching my eyes for safety.

“Seth, in here I have crayons and paper and pencils, and we can talk about anything you want. I’d love it if you’d draw me some pictures. Does that sound okay?”

Miss Judy’s voice was calm and mellow. She had a very comforting way about her. I could understand now why she’d come as one of the most sought after child psychologists in the greater Boston area.

Seth bit his bottom lip and with some trepidation put his little hand in Judy’s. He turned to look at me once more as they walked towards the door. I waved and gave him a big smile. The moment the door closed tears streamed down my face. I took a seat on a big comfy couch and wiped my face with a tissue.

He’ll be okay, I told myself. This is just a phase he needs to grow out of. He’s a strong little guy. He’ll be okay.

My phone buzzed. Matt texted “Fucking traffic! 5 minutes away!” I clicked my phone off and sat in the quiet room, waiting for Matt.

Five minutes later the door swung open and in came Matt, all bustling and frazzled. I widened my eyes at him, willing him to be quiet. I didn’t want the noise to upset whatever was going on behind the closed door.

“Sorry,” he whispered as he kissed my head and took a seat next to me. “How is she?”

“She seems great,” I replied as big alligator tears welled in my eyes.

Matt wrapped me up in his arms and held me tight. I wept in his shoulder, pooling hot tears on his shirt. “This has to work,” I whispered. Matt held on tighter.

Forty minutes later, Seth came bouncing out of the room all giggles with his toothless grin. “Hi dad,” he shouted as he ran to Matt. Matt scooped him up in his arms and hugged him tight.

“Hi-ya buddy,” Matt exclaimed, kissing the top of his head and setting him back down. “So, how did you and Miss Judy get along?”

“It was great,” Seth beamed. “I drew this picture.”

On the paper there was a self-portrait with a big house behind it and a man dressed in all orange. The man had dark hair and wasn’t smiling.

“Oh,” I replied, my voice terse and uneasy. “I see this is you. And this – who is this? Jimmy?”

Miss Judy tilted her head slightly. “Would you mind terribly, Matt, if Alison and I chat for just a moment?” She smiled softly.

“Not at all,” Matt replied. His voice was awash with the relief that he didn’t have to be the one to get the news. “Seth and I will hang out here and he can tell me all the things you two talked about.”

Miss Judy closed the door softly behind her. “Please, have a seat.” She motioned towards the one of the two seats across from her chair.

I sat but barely put any weight on the chair. I was in flight mode, ready to run if this got too out of hand. I could feel every muscle in my body tense, waiting for her to tell me about my son.

“Seth is a great kid. He’s on track for a seven-year-old boy,” Miss Judy said with a gentle smile. “He’s bright and creative and very funny.”

I smiled, my stomach roiling as I waited. I was holding my breath.

“But Jimmy,” she continued. “Jimmy is a different story. When do you recall learning about Jimmy?” Her voice lilted a bit.

“I think Seth was about two or so,” I stammered. My tongue felt too big for my mouth. I swallowed hard.

Miss Judy reached her hand out and placed it gently on my knee. I wondered if she could feel my tense muscles and nervous shaking.

“No need to worry, dear,” she said gently. “We just need to get a real sense of this Jimmy character and what he represents to your son.”

I looked up at her as tears welled in my eyes. She squeezed my knee.

“Seth told me that Jimmy started coming around as long as he can remember,” she went on to say. “Seeing as he’s only seven, it’s hard to say how far back that is in reality but nonetheless, Jimmy seems to be as much of a staple figure in Seth’s life as you and Matt. Almost like a parent.”

My skin crawled. I fought the urge to bolt out the door and never look back.

“Seth is convinced that Jimmy is flesh and bone, just like you and me. He told me repeatedly that Jimmy is not a figment of his imagination. He’s real and he visits Seth in the dark.”

Tears poured down my face. Miss Judy handed me a tissue.

“Have you ever ‘met’ Jimmy before, Alison?” Her voice was soft and kind. No hint of accusatory tones.

“No,” I replied through sniffles. “I mean, Seth asks us to set him a plate every night but from what Seth says, he never comes to the table.”

“Have you asked him why?”

I sat, dumbfounded. The question was so simple, so elementary but, if I was honest with Miss Judy, the answer was no. I never thought to ask. I just assumed he was imaginary and how could an imaginary person possibly sit at the dinner table and enjoy a meal with a family.

Terror and embarrassment filled my face as I started to shake.

She squeezed my leg once more. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It feels silly to ask, I’m sure, but maybe it’s time. Maybe it’s time to ‘meet’ Jimmy.”

I closed my eyes. My mind was reeling. Was she really asking me to meet my child’s imaginary friend? How would that even work? He was seven. How was he supposed to explain to me who this person was that was meeting him in the dark, acting like a parent?

“Alison,” Miss Judy questioned. “Are you alright?”

I quickly glanced around the room, taking in my surroundings. Somehow, I’d gone from sitting on the edge of the chair to the floor with my legs pulled up close to my chest. There was a small wail coming from my throat. What in the hell happened, I thought to myself.

“I – I’m so sorry,” I stammered, stumbling to get on my feet. “I’m not sure what –“

“Situations like this can be overwhelming,” she cooed. “No need to worry.”

Miss Judy handed me a bottle of water and helped me back into my chair. I wiped the tears from my face. I twisted the cap off the bottle and took a long, slow drink then focused my attention on her soft eyes.

“I would recommend sitting with Seth in his room, a place he feels really safe, and ask him to tell you about Jimmy. Ask him everything you would if this were a real, live boy that he met in his class. How did they meet? What does Jimmy like to do? What’s Jimmy’s favorite color? Things like that. Let Seth know that it’s safe to talk to you about Jimmy and, when it feels right, ask Seth if you can meet him.”

“What if he says no,” I questioned, a hint of sorrow in my voice.

“Just feel it out. You never know unless you try.” She squeezed my leg once more. “I’d like to see Seth back here in a week, if that’s alright with you.”

I smiled and nodded. I reached for her hand to thank her, but she pulled me into a big, long hug.

“You’re doing great,” she whispered in my ear. It was the only thing I really needed to hear.

* * *

I quivered at the sight of my child covered in blood. I forced back the urge to vomit right then and there.

“I’m sorry,” I questioned, dumbfounded by the statement. “Jimmy taught you what?”

Matt squeezed my hand.

“Where’s Jimmy now,” Matt questioned. I could hear the fear creeping in his voice.

“He left,” Seth replied, proud and enigmatic. “He taught me how to hold it down and once it stopped breathing take it’s skin off. Just like taking off its clothes.”

I bolted for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet. I heaved until if felt like my lungs were going to come out, too. I was sobbing uncontrollably. How could this happen, I asked myself. How does my little boy, that sweet little face, have blood EVERYWHERE?

***

After that first meeting with Miss Judy, we got pizza on the way home and just like usual, Seth asked for a place at the table for Jimmy. I’d filled Matt in on the recommendations she had so, when asked, we set the table and asked if Jimmy was going to join us this time.

Seth replied dryly with, “He’s busy tonight.”

I shot a glance at Matt and shrugged.

We ate and Seth told us all about his time with Miss Judy. He told us how much he liked drawing pictures with her and that she asked funny questions. When we asked what those questions were he told us that she’d asked if Seth had ever seen Jimmy playing with any other kids.

Again, I shot a glance to Matt. He looked back, confused.

“And have you ever seen Jimmy playing with any other kids,” I asked cautiously.

“No,” Seth said flatly. “He’s only my friend. He thinks all the other kids are motherfucking losers.”

“Seth!” Matt yelled. “We do not talk like that in this house.” I just stared. “Absolutely not okay, kid.”

Seth sat, blank eyed, eating his pizza.

Trying to diffuse the situation, I followed up with “So, you’re Jimmy’s only friend. Cool. And what about you? Do you have other friends? I know you had some trouble with the kids at school before but are any of them maybe someone you could be friends with.”

Seth rolled his eyes at me and went about eating his pizza.

We finished dinner and Seth went upstairs to wash up for bed. Matt and I stood at the sink washing the dishes together.

“Al,” Matt started. “I’m genuinely concerned. I know what Miss Judy said but this kid feels like he’s slipping away from us.”

“I know,” I replied, choking back tears. “I feel it, too.”

I sighed and handed Matt the last dish to dry. “Wish me luck,” I said as I headed towards the stairs.

“Knock, knock,” I said as I slowly opened Seth’s bedroom door. “Can I come in little guy?”

Seth smiled and nodded. He was coloring in a coloring book on his bed. It was  GI Joe coloring book all filled with greens and blues smeared outside the lines. I loved these little kid pictures. I tousled his hair and took a seat next to him. I pulled my legs up on the bed and snuggled him close to me.

“I want to know more about Jimmy,” I started. Seth pulled away slightly. “No, no. I want to know about how you met and what his favorite color is. If he’s your best friend and he’s taking my place, I want to know more about him.”

I smiled down at his somber face. “Please,” I pleaded and kissed the top of his head.

He smiled and excited started to tell me about Jimmy.

***

Jimmy Raines was born on a blustery Friday afternoon in May 1946. He was the middle child of three kids and his parents lived on a farm in rural Nebraska. He got into trouble starting at a young age, stealing chickens from neighbors and eventually turning into full blown robbery by the time he was a teenager.

He had been in and out of juvenile detention centers for years and by the time he was arrested at 17 for aggravated assault, he was charged as an adult and sentenced to 15 years. His parents, overwhelmed by their sons lack of respect, did nothing to help him get out of serving his time.

After just 5 years, Jimmy was paroled for good behavior. At just 22 years old, Jimmy Raines was now back on the street and somewhat free to do as he pleased. That’s when the real trouble began.

Jimmy found himself a job working graveyard shifts at the local grocery store. He worked from 10 PM to 7 AM daily and enjoyed the freedom of his afternoons. He took up the bad habit of people watching. Women, mostly. That watching turned obsessive and by 25, Jimmy had murdered his first victim.

Over the next eight years, Jimmy would brutally murder over 15 women. His MO was to strangle them, watching the light in their eyes slowly fade away, then brutally defile their bodies by skinning them, leaving the skin peeled and hanging like a coat. He was finally caught after his final victim in 1969.

He was sentenced to life in prison and died from prostate cancer in 1993 at the age of 49.

***

I heard Seth sobbing in the hallway. I had to pull myself together. I walked into the hallway to find Matt crumbled on the floor with tiny bloody handprints on his shoulders. I ran over and pulled Matt’s head up. He looked at me with tears in his eyes.

“I don’t even know what to do,” he whispered.

Seth looked up at me, standing next to Matt with his hand on his shoulder. He looked scared.

“Mommy,” he asked, his voice quiet and small. “Am I in trouble?”

“Sweetie,” I said, my voice trembling. “I think we should call Miss Judy. Does that sound okay?”

Seth nodded.

I grabbed Matt’s hand with mine and Seth’s with the other. I led us all downstairs and sat them on the couch. I grabbed a washcloth for Seth’s bloodstained hands and asked Matt to please help clean him up. Matt sat wide-eyed and astounded. I took his face in my hands.

“I need you to help, please,” I pleaded.

Matt snapped out of it and helped wipe up the blood from Seth’s face and hands.

“Hello, Miss Judy? It’s Alison. We need your help.”