Imaginary Friends

Chapter Four

I didn't want me to be the first thing he saw. I wanted him to get used to seeing the new surroundings, I knew it wouldn't be easy for him. He finally opened his eyes, he had kept a sly grin on his face the whole time he kept his eyes closed I guess he just wasn't expecting anything to work. But he had to have because otherwise it wouldn't have worked. His smirk vanished almost immediately and his eyes filled with horror as the landscape unfolded around him. I raced out from my underbrush and put my hand on his shoulder.
"Hey calm down, it's ok," I said understandably with a slight chuckle under my voice.
"What is going on!" He exasperated, "where am I?"
"It's kinda hard to explain. I guess I would have to start with my name. I'm Gretchen and it's a pleasure to meet you," I began.
"Wait! Just no. You can't be, you don't exist, you can't," he replied flabbergasted.
"You know I take that quite offensive!" I added playfully.
"Sorry it's just your Emily's imaginary friend," he emphasized.
"I am her imaginary friend to you and to everyone else, but to Emily I am merely a friend. As real as her or you."
He sat there taking in my words and the scenery.
"Gretchen..." He sighed, "what are you?"
"Oh that, yeah.... well technically I am wind. I have no physical form when we are in the real world. I am simply wind and of course an imaginary friend."
"So this isn't the real world?" He questioned.
I sighed "No, it is merely a copy of it. A memoir."
"So this is a memory?" He asked, I nodded yes, "who's memory are we in?"
"A sixty five year old man in England, he has lived alone since his son left for college. Today he is meeting his grand children for the very first time," I answered.
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We walked down the hill together looking at the bee's buzzing and wild flowers blooming.
"Its unreal," Jack whispered.
"Well of course it is, a memory always makes things seem better or worse than they actually were," I said.
We came across a small wooden cottage with a large english garden wrapped around. I raced toward the house bounding like a child. I swung open the gate and ran down the path. Jack was a bit slower but eventually we stood together at the back door. My hand lay on the knob.
"Wait..." Jack protested.
But it was too late I had already swung open the door. The house smelled like an attic mixed with cut grass. The back door led to a den. A small loveseat with a floral design and a mahogany coffee table with various books strewn across. My bare feet sunk into the worn carpet. An older man entered the room, worry strewn across his face.
"Oh no. Oh no. This just won't do." He muttered to himself.
He began stacking books in a hurried fashion. The gravel in the driveway crumbled under the weight of a car pulling into the driveway.
He looked through the lace curtains and hurried away shouting, "They're here! Oh my goodness, they're here," Jack hurried over to the window and I followed closely behind. From behind the glass we could see a silver minivan pull up. A man with blonde tossed hair opened the passenger side and started toward the side doors. A woman with red hair pulled up into a ponytail came out of the drivers side. A kid about the age of three came bursting out of door the father opened. The mother held her husbands hands as they made their way to the garden gate. The older man came bursting through the front door, almost like the son. The father stopped. He stood in the driveway staring at his father and his father stared back, a tension being created between the two of them. I stopped looking and watched Jack. His mouth was a small content smile and his eyes were full of wonder. The small boy ran threw the gate open. His movements fast and clumsy. He began to fall but the old man caught the boy by the armpits with one quick movement.
"Now your just like your father, young man always tripping over these steps," the old man chuckled.
The memory began to fade.