Imaginary friends.

What's the point in real friends if they slip away to apathy?

The imaginary ones won't be manipulated— they can't be.

They won't seek attention to save themselves from oblivion.

They're not afraid to be forgotten and they're not afraid to fall down a never ending spirals of "what ifs."

After dwelling on how much it hurts to be individually insignificant.

I wish I could go back in time to when imaginary friends were socially acceptable.

Together, we could replace all the years of pain with something better— with innocent eyes and story books.

But time travel isn't possible in the real world, only in those story books.

And, so, I wish I was one of them.

Imaginary friends.

E.M.W.

• • •

"Dude, what are you doing?" Mikey asks, walking into Eve's room.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" I ask, without looking down at him. I'm too focused on not falling off the bed as I stick glow in the dark stars on the ceiling above it, my tongue stuck out in concentration.

"Well, it looks like you're sticking the Big Dipper above my bed."

I hold in an exasperated sigh. "Eve always wanted stars on her ceiling, so I'm putting them up there."

He stands in the middle of the room watching me, his hands in his pockets. He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. I was afraid he was going to tell me that this was a stupid idea, that it was pointless because she's not here to see it, and that I should just let go and move on. Instead, he asks, "Can I help?"

I point across the room to the desk where I left a packet of stars and immediately, he takes it, and tears it open. "So, I was going to make a bunch of constellations, and then I realized I only know what the Big Dipper looks like off the top of my head, so just stick 'em on randomly. It'll look cool either way," I tell him.

"I can do that," he says.

"And maybe work on the other side of the room. I've got this part covered." It's stupid, but I can't help but smile at the fact that I, an adult, am sticking glow in the dark stars to a ceiling with my brother who is also an adult.

Soon, my head is spiralling— but not in a bad way. Ideas are flowing. I can picture what a room would look like, the ceiling covered in stars, the walls painted to look like a galaxy, the lighting fixture like a hanging moon that glows softly in a constant state of midnight. The curtains over the window, black and covered in stars, wouldn't let in any daylight, and the atmosphere of the room would have the power to lull even the most troubled mind to a peaceful sleep.

My fantasy is interrupted when my head snaps towards the sound of Lindsey's voice. "Gee..." She's leaning against the doorway. "The baby's coming."

• • •

The best days of my life, in no particular order, have been the day I brought Eve home, the day I married Lindsey, and today, the day I held my baby girl in my arms for the first time.

"You named her Bandit!?" Eve shouts from across the line when I tell her the news. I can't tell if she's excited, shocked, or both.

"Yeah."

"You named her Bandit. This is why you're the best parent ever. Well, it's not the only reason, but... you know what I mean."

I chuckle softly, looking down at my baby, asleep and held protectively in my wife's arms. I can't help the smile that spreads across my face every time I look at her. "I can't wait for you to meet her." I speak quietly. Lindsey fell asleep too as soon as we got home, her head on my shoulder.

"Neither can I..."

We're both thinking the same thing. We just wish Eve could be here with us. The whole family together.

"You will soon," I say, if soon is about four months. "And you're gonna be a great big sister."

"I hope so."

"You will, Eve."

"Yeah..." she says, trailing off with significantly less excitement in her voice than she did a couple minutes ago. "You're probably tired, right? I'll let you go. I, uh, I have homework to do anyway."

"Hey, what happened?" I sense the mood drop.

"Nothing, Dad," she says in that light tone that tells me it's not nothing, a forced smile in her voice. "I'm so happy for you and Linds and I can't wait to meet Bandit. I gotta go now, love you." And at that, she hangs up the phone.

I sigh deeply. That familiar feeling of worry starts to creep its way up my spine because I know something is wrong. I could sit here for hours, speculating, working out every possible solution to every one of her problems, but there's always something I can't fix.

I won't sit here for hours, though, because Bandit's just begun to stir.

I won't do it. I won't let it eat me up inside. I won't close my eyes, and let those memories come rushing back. I will push them away, because this is stupid.

I wasn't the one who was in that car, so why is it haunting me?

I wasn't the one who's life got cut short, so why do I feel stuck in time? In the moment I smashed my tea on the floor after the news reporter let the world know about the Miller's fatal crash.

I don't want to feel stuck, I just want to reverse time. I want to read Rosa one last bedtime story, tuck her in and tell her everything is going to be okay, back when I believed it. I want her to look at me with her big, innocent brown eyes and believe it too.

I want to have been a better sister to her.

I wish I was thinking about the baby right now. The sister-sister relationship we'll have one day even though I'm sixteen years older than her. I'll show up on her birthday, on Christmas, give her the best gifts. I'll drive her to her friends' houses— if I ever get the guts to learn to drive. But I'm pacing back and forth, thinking about those nightmares I hope to all Hell won't come back. The last thing I want right now is to wake Laura up by screaming in the middle of the night. Or worse, crying.

You're happy, Eve, you're happy. I tell myself. Happy for Dad and Lindsey, happy that you have an adorable little sister. Happy, happy, happy.

So why do I feel like crying?

I take my phone from where I tossed it aside on my bed after hanging up on Gee and call Emerald instead. She can always cheer me up, and she'll be excited to hear that the baby was born, anyway.

"Hey, what's up?" she says brightly.

Sitting in my desk chair, I spin around in it a couple times and announce, "Lindsey had the baby."

"Oh my gosh, Evie, you're a big sister!" she squeals loudly enough that I pull my phone away from my ear, laughing.

"I know, it's crazy! I just wish I could go see her now."

"You will soon," she says, which is exactly what Gerard said.

"I can't wait to hold her. I- I don't think I've ever held a baby before."

"Haven't you!? You're going to be so good with her, you're going to be such a great sister, I can see it now." She sounds more excited than I am, which she usually is, no matter what that thing is.

"I hope so."

"Why wouldn't you be?"

"I don't know... having a little sister is making me think of Rosa and the car crash. I'm just scared."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense. It's okay to be scared, you know, but you were a great sister to her. You told me about the bedtime stories and helping her when she had a nightmare and everything, remember? And you're also going to be a great big sister to... what's her name?"

"Her name's Bandit."

"That's so badass."

"I know! Better than what Frank suggested that one time... Nakatomi."

"The building from Die Hard?"

"Yeah the building from Die Hard! He said it worked for a boy or a girl."

"Well, he wasn't wrong."

I snort. "I mean, that's true. But Bandit is so, so much better."

"Yeah, of course! No doubt about that."

Suddenly, I hear Laura call from the kitchen that it's time for dinner. I can smell the food from up here. I don't know what it is, but it smells good. I tell Emerald, "Laura just said it's diner time, I gotta go. Thanks for cheering me up, Em."

"I didn't even know I was cheering you up."

"Well, you were and it worked, so thanks."

"No problem, Eve. Love you."

"I love you, too," I say, then hang up.

I go down to the kitchen table to find that we're having pesto pasta, which quickly became my favourite thing that Laura makes for supper. I tried making it for myself once when she was at work and I was free to make whatever I wanted, but I overcooked the noodles and then accidentally dropped them on the floor. I had a PB&J that night instead.

Taking my usual seat at the table, Laura across from me, I say, "It looks good."

She smiles. "What's got you so happy?"

I'm not about to say, "my girlfriend," so I tell her, not stopping to decide if it's a good idea or not, "Gerard and Lindsey just had a baby."

To my surprise, her smile never falls and she says pleasantly without an ounce of sarcasm, "Oh, good for them." Then takes a bite of her food as though we were discussing something as casual as the weather, not the people whom she took me away from.

"Yeah," I agree, then take a bite of my own food. Then, feeling brave, I swallow and say, "I can't wait to meet her."

"I'm sure she's just a doll," Laura says back.

"I've never held a baby before."

"Yes you have, when you were about four or five."

I blink. "Really?"

Laura nods. "My friend, Shirley, I think it was, had a baby. She had you sit down in a rocking chair and she handed him to you." I watch her smile at the memory. "You did great for a four or five year old," she remarks.

"Oh. What was his name?"

"I can't remember now. Tommy, maybe."

I wonder what other things from my childhood she remembers. Things that faded away from my memory years ago, or buried under so much shit and pain I'd rather no go digging for them. I also wonder what things she doesn't remember that I still do clear as day.