Imaginary Lies

You paced back and forth in your friend’s room, wringing your hands. You kept your gaze on the ground, trembling as alternating waves of fear and frustration washed over you. None of it made sense. There had to have been a lie somewhere in there. You just had to find it.

“Well, if I’m not imaginary, then what am I and why can’t anyone see me?” The question left your mouth in an accusatory fashion, although you hadn’t meant it to. It was just supposed to be something to solidify your thoughts.

“I don’t know.”

You glanced at your friend. He was sitting on his bed, looking undisturbed by the bombshell news he’d dropped on you. It irked you.

“But to be fair, when we first started hanging out, I never said you were imaginary.”

You shook your head again and again. Your whole life revolved around your friend. You’d known him since you were both young, and you’d been by his side all the way through high school. You figured you had to be imaginary because he was the only one who could see and talk to you.

“Okay. Not imaginary. Invisible, then?” you asked.

Your friend shook his head. “Nah. If your eyes were invisible, you wouldn’t be able to see.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes sense.” It didn’t, but there were more pressing matters at hand. “Maybe I don’t exist on this plane?”

Your friend shrugged. “Here. Catch.” He tossed a mug your way. You caught it with ease and set it back down on his desk. “Nah, you exist with me.”

You returned to your pacing, trying to figure it out. When nothing else came forth, you plopped down beside your friend. “What do I do? This changes everything.” Then, another realization hit. “Wait. How did you figure out I wasn’t imaginary?”

Your friend took a deep breath and stared at his wall for a moment, thinking long and hard. “I think there was a family that moved in beside us when we were younger. Remember the Wachowskis?”

You nodded. “Some government family, yeah?”

“They said they were there to test some special device but never said what it was. Maybe you were their kid?”

While it was possible, you couldn’t remember anything about the device, or even the Wachowskis, now that you thought about it. All you could recall was that they existed but not their faces or voices.

But something more chilling dawned on you. “If they had a device, and if it made me invisible to everyone but you, then what happened to the Wachowskis?”

Your friend shrugged. “Don’t know. But also, who cares? Enjoy being invisible, dude.”

It had its perks and its downsides. And yet, you thought of another benefit. No one knew about you except your friend. That meant you could do whatever you wanted.

A mischievous grin formed on your face as you stood up. “Yeah. I will.”