“Everyone look! Lily Matthews is talking to her imaginary friend again! Hey, hey, hey Lily! Is your imaginary friend gonna swing with you!” Laughter erupted form the far too immature fifth grade class.
“She’s not my imaginary friend!” whimpered the little girl as she sat on the swing-set next to an empty, rocking swing. “Her name is Cali!”
Lily was a believer. Magic, specifically – not the magic conducted by broke street performers or the underdressed sidekick, but the kind of magic that makes a blind man see or saves the sleeping man in a house fire. Angels were her magicians, and her personal angel was Cali.
School was never great, but the walk home was even worse. The snow was up to her knees but her father’s old snow boots only rose to her calves. It was a slow mile as the wind whipped her in every direction. Holding her hand out so she could hold Cali’s, she said, “Hey Cali, I’m sorry my classmates were mean to you today. I know you tell me to pray for them when they make fun of me, but sometimes it’s hard.”
She rounded the corner to the one story house that she called home, until they had to move again. This was her least favorite house because of the monster she’d convinced herself haunted it. The paint ran in faded streaks down the front as if a giant claw had scratched its nails down the side. No plants seemed to stay alive more than a week and it didn’t have a playroom. Her last house had a playroom.
“Hey kiddo, how was your day?” Her father rolled out from under the car, splattered with the most beautiful array of oils.
“Ok. Is the car fixed yet?”
“Another day, another day closer.” He said with the same cheery smile on his face that he wore every time she asked. Lily shrugged in disappointment because her father’s facade couldn’t escape her. She was in fifth grade now. And she knew.
On the kitchen table was the long awaited cup of hot chocolate that her mom placed out at the end of every school-day. In fourth grade, she asked for coffee, but her mom said, “If your heart beat any faster it’d pop right out of your chest!” The hot chocolate was always placed in the same exact way – on the corner facing the window with a large purple sticky note fastened to the mug. Each message was different from “I hope you had a great day!” To “Knock knock. Who’s there? Olive. Olive who? Olive you!” but whatever the message was, it always ended with “Love Mommy.” Always “Mommy,” never “Mom.” Once she called her “Mom” and the old lady said, “The day ‘mommy’ is too childish for you is the day the hot chocolate stops coming.” She never called her “Mom” again.
“Hey Cali, I got some more hot chocolate today. Could you put in a good word for Daddy for me. I know everything that’s been going on hurts him.” In her imagination, Cali resembled her mom. She had short dark hair with the same crater-like dimples and a body that was not quite overweight but was not quite skinny – with translucent wings and a halo of course! Cali was young, based on the pictures of her mom from when she was in her twenties, because she didn’t want an old angel. Nobody wants an old angel.
“Hey Cali, some kids at school were saying some mean things about you today and I don’t know why. Mrs. Jensen tried to talk to me again now that Mommy isn’t around as much, but I told her it was okay because I’d be seeing her this afternoon.” She reached out to give Cali a sip of her hot chocolate. “Be careful, it’s hot.”
The house was cluttered with things that had become far too ordinary for a little girl. On the walk to her room, she brushed the pile of bills unmoved on the counter, threw something away on top of the thirteen pill bottles, and tripped over the piles of clothes that cultivated in the hallway. Four o’clock in the afternoon had never been so dark. Everything was closed and little sunlight shone through the purple shutters, creating an eerie, dusk-like setting.
Her father opened the door to Lily playing with two dolls on her bed. “Hey kiddo, are you ready to go visit Mommy?” Lily shot up faster than when Mrs. Jenson calls for recess, and sprinted for the old snow boots.
“I-just-can’t-wait-it’s-gonna-be-so-fun-can-I-bring-my-dolls-do-you-think-Mommy-will- play-with-me,” the words flew so fast they were barely comprehensible.
“Listen kiddo,” her father’s somber tone made Lily stop for a moment. “No dolls, okay? I have something else you can give her.” He pulled out a bouquet of purple lilies that matched the shade of the sticky note. “From you, get it?”
“Thanks Daddy. She’ll love them. She loves purple.”
“I know.”
Lily thought to herself, Hi Cali, Daddy is here so I didn’t want to talk out loud. I hope you can still hear me. Please don’t let Daddy cry this time. Please.
They walked to the Gate of Heaven Cemetery, where they had been just been a week ago for the burial. “Wait at the gate for a minute, Lily.” She sat down and started tying the pieces of grass together, waiting to visit her mom.
Her father walked through the grass like he was walking barefoot on glass, careful of each step and what laid under it. Bending down to the cleanest, shiniest headstone, he breathed, “Hey honey. I brought Lily with me. I think she’s having trouble understanding what happened. She’s been talking to that imaginary friend of hers a lot lately, and I just don’t know what to do about it. I don’t think it’s healthy for her and I don’t know if I should talk to her about it. I just wish you were here and I know Lily wishes it too. And don’t worry, I kept the hot chocolate tradition alive. I love you.”
And at that, Lily ran over with her flowers, knelt down, and placed them under the tombstone labeled “Cali Matthews.”
