Lost In The Inbetween

No One Deserves To Disappear

"Make a wish," my mom says as she sets a beautiful white-and-blue cake in front of me. I close my eyes as tight as I can and wish with all my heart.

Don't let Connor disappear.

Don't let Connor disappear.

I blow out all eighteen of the candles in one mighty breath. Well, one and a half. Close enough, right?

"Happy birthday, Evan." I feel a comforting hand on my shoulder. I look up and see Connor smiling down at me, his long brown hair falling out of its place behind his ear to brush his face. I smile back at him.

I eat my cake in a hurry, anxious to hang out with Connor. "Thanks, mom," I say as I rush back to my room. Connor follows closely behind me.

"So, you're officially an adult," Connor says to me as he sits on the forest green comforter on my bed.

"Yeah. I can legally buy weed in Colorado now," I say smugly.

"Twenty one is the legal age, doofus," Connor says, fiddling with his rings.

"Oh right. I knew that," I say embarrassed.

"You're not a kid anymore," Connor says. He leans forward as if he's expecting me to say something.

"Yeah, I know. It's pretty cool, right?" I reply. I laugh nervously. Connor is still staring at me.

"And that means you have to give up little kid things. Like stuffed animals and toy trucks and..." Connor says expectantly.

"Picture books?" I ask. I don't know what Connor is trying to say.

"How about imaginary friends?" he says flatly. He crosses his arms.

"What about them?" It feels like Connor is interrogating me. "Hey, do you want to play Apocolypse of the Damned? We finally got to level nine!" I say, trying to change the subject. "Well, I did. You just sort of sat around being useless--"

"Evan," Connor cuts me off.  "You have to give up your imaginary friends. You have to grow up. You have to let me fade away," Connor says. My eyes widen in shock.

"No no no no no. You're not imaginary. You're real," I take a step backward and bump into my dresser, knocking everything down.

"Try telling that to Jared. Go ahead. Ask Jared if he's ever seen me. Oh wait, you won't because I don't fucking exist!" Connor yells at me. I cover my ears, trying desperately to deny the truth.

"Look, just try talking to Zoe. Okay? For me?" Connor says apologetically, pulling my hands off of my head.

"O-okay," I sniffle. "Can I still see you? And talk to you?" Connor shakes his head sadly.

"You have to learn to let things go. I'll never completely disappear, I promise. The only way I disappear completely is if you forget about me. You won't do that, right?" Connor says as he nervously twirls his curly hair around his long, perfectly manicured fingers.

"Never," I let out a nervous chuckle. "You're my best friend ever. I'll never forget you."

"Best friend? Really? Dude, you have to get out more. Go visit Jared. Tell him that you want to go hang out. Or go knock on Zoe's door and ask her out. She's bound to say yes," Connor assures me.

"I think I will! I think I can do this!" I say, for the first time not to Connor, but to myself. My head jerks up. Connor waves at me then he fades into the air of my bedroom.

My body shakes in an angry sob. I choke it back before the sob escapes my throat into a mutilated scream. I curl up into a ball in silence, rocking myself back and forth. Connor's gone. He wasn't real to start with. With one last shake, I raise myself to my feet.

I walk out the door without so much as a glance to my inquisitor of a mother. I just walk. I don't really have a purpose or any place that I need to go.

I walk past A La Mode, the ice cream shop I had always wanted to take Connor to. My imaginary best friend Connor. God, it sounds so stupid now. Who has an imaginary friend as a teenager? How many of life's experiences have I missed because I couldn't come out of my shell and just accept reality?

I stop to blow on my slightly numb fingers in front of the gates for the old apple orchard that closed a few years ago. This was one place that I did take Connor to. Nobody else was there, so no one could judge me and my best friend for just picking a spot and shooting the breeze.

I keep walking, trying to drown my grief in the cold pavement beneath my feet.

I look up and realize I'm in front of Zoe Murphy's house. I hesitate for a second, then walk up the dark wooden porch steps and give three solid knocks on the bright red door. The door swings open, revealing Cynthia Murphy's face.

"Um, hi? I'm Evan, uh, Hansen. Is Zoe home?" I say, my voice raising to a rather high octave during the last sentence.

"She is," Cynthia's face breaks into a smile. "Let me get her for you."