The New Friend

Unfinished. Any input would be appreciated.


Something was not the same. Someone had left the lights on in the empty offices upstairs where I like to take my walks. I hate when they do this. I always expect to bump into the movers with the last of the boxes. Or worse, Trish. Hard-faced Trish who sneaks around corners to catch me walking in circles, wearing down her carpet. Instead of moving at my normal, confident speed, I creeped slowly, like a child sneaking up on a small animal.

I rounded the first corner in silence. I didn’t dare turn on my music or even hum to myself until I knew I was alone. I only like to walk on my breaks if no one else is there. If anyone turns up, my secret ritual is ruined and I go and make coffee and sulk.

I finished my figure eight around the empty cubicles and no one was there. So I played my music and I hummed and I even did a little sashay dance while I walk. And then there he was.  

A man was sitting in one of the empty green chairs in the empty green cubicles. He had a laptop set up on the desk in front of him and he typed intently.  I walked past quickly, eyes scanning the floor. The walk was ruined. As I turned to sneak out the back staircase, I remembered that I had left my bag in the break room. I tried to shuffle past the man silently, unnoticed. He turned.

Hello, he said but he did not smile.

Hello, I grinned, sheepishly. His face was stern, his green eyes betrayed no thoughts. His puffy mouth gave the odd appearance that it had recently been punched. New here? I asked and immediately felt idiotic.

You could say that. I’m Abram. He reached out his hand and I took it. It was cold and dry. Sadie. I wanted to go back downstairs but I knew it would be impolite to stop the conversation so soon. Why did they put you up here by yourself?

Now he smirked, barely. Are there any empty desks down there?

I guess not. My face flamed. Well, welcome. I rushed away as he turned his back to me.

At my desk, I told Sara about the strange new man. She sometimes walked on her breaks, too, with Amy and Missy. They rushed up to meet him. But no one was there when they went.

By the next morning, I had forgotten about him, until it was time to walk again. I decided that since Sara hadn’t seen him, maybe Trish had moved him.

I left my music off while I rounded the corner where I had found him before. No one was there. Until he was. He came striding up the center aisle. Walking again. Not a question. Why do you do that? It’s sort of creepy, don’t you think? Lurking around in the dark?

I wanted to explain that it was because I had so much energy, sometimes it took all of my willpower to stay still and work. If I could just walk around for a few minutes, my mind could settle. Something in his face told me a response would be wrong. I shrugged. How long have you worked here, Sadie?

Two years.
And you like it?
I do. I like it enough. The people are nice. He nodded at this.
Nice. Pondering my word choice. You are certainly nice, Sadie. The nicest person I have met here. He pushed his close cropped red-blonde hair back from his ear.
Who else have you met?
Everyone who matters. I laughed, not because it was funny, but because when men say things like this they expect you to laugh.
Do you have a family, a boyfriend?
Pardon?
Are you married?
No.
Boyfriend?
No. I did not want to talk about myself with this person any more. Do you have a wife? I knew this was a mistake once it was said. He might think I was interested in him.
No, I’ve never had time for a wife. I don’t have a girlfriend, but I know a girl who will kick me out if she hears me saying that. I give another expected chuckle.
I’ve gotta get back. I tried to excuse myself.
He simply nodded.

I told Sara to hurry upstairs and get a look at this creep. But he wasn’t there again. So she pulled up the employee directory and searched for an Abram. He was not one of ours. She laughed at me.

Good one, you really had me going. I laugh, too, but not because it was funny. I didn’t want her to know how crazy I actually must be.

That was when I knew I was making him up.

I had done this, too, as a girl. I had two playmates, sisters, who lived up the road and would play paper doll with me. It was only when I was older and they had stopped coming around that my mother told me she had worried for a while about my imagination.

But I knew that since I could stop imagining them, I would stop imaging him. I just had to remember what he was.

When I told him he was not real, he raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

Sadie, how is that possible? I told him about the sisters.
How do you know they weren’t real? Honestly, this is the strangest conversation I have ever had. You are a sweet girl, but, Jesus. You are strange. You should see someone.

I knew he was right there. But I also knew that these things could come and go like a headache. And I knew I could ignore him until he went away. I told him this and he shook his head.

Listen, Sadie. I want to be your friend, but if you are really concerned that I am somehow made-up, he paused to sigh his annoyance. So be it. He stared at me with his humorless eyes. I won’t bother you at work anymore. Just stop skulking around my desk, okay?

And so we agreed. I could compartmentalize him away, neatly at his upstairs desk. And he would slowly pass out of my life like a July parade. I slept nicely that night and dreamed of a stampede of white puppies on a snowy hill.

Work the next few weeks were peaceful. I ate lunch at my desk and brought my own coffee to avoid the upstairs break room. I was safe on the ground. Sara only brought up my hilarious new-hire joke one time. I went home nights and drank cabernet and held the cat and talked to friends on the phone.

One Thursday, I came home and my lights were all on. I hadn’t called maintenance. I hated when my landlord came without warning me.

Sadie.

Abram’s flinty face was staring at me down my hall. Your landlord let me in.

Why are you hear? I asked, barely above a whisper. Why the fuck are you here?

That’s not very nice language, he hinted at a smile. I didn’t think you would be upset. My girlfriend kicked me out and I had nowhere to go. You have always been so nice to me. I knew you’d let me stay.

But I won’t, you can’t stay. How did you know where I lived? I recognized it didn’t make sense. Of course someone from my head would know. It just seemed the right question to ask someone who shows up in your home.

Everything is on the employee directory.

How did you get in? I knew the answer. He wasn’t so much here as he had come unstuck from the spot I had glued him in my mind.

Your landlord, Leo, he’s a good guy. I told him I knew you and he just let me in. I thought about calling Leo, but I knew this didn’t make sense either. Of course Abram knew the landlord’s name and of course he had never met him because figments don’t meet people, they don’t see people, they don’t even really interact with people. You do all the work with figments by yourself.

Abram. You have to leave. We had a deal. You stay at that desk. In the upstairs office? And you never come out, not ever. You leave me alone.

You know how crazy you sound right now? He reached out both of his arms, brushed mine in an up and down motion that I supposed was meant to be comforting. I wriggled out and backed toward the door.

Don’t touch me. Don’t you goddamn touch me. Leave.

His face changed. Instead of serious, he looked feral.

I don’t think you understand. I am staying. The look in his slate green eyes told me this was true.

So I made him dinner. I know, this is crazy. I cooked pasta for an imaginary friend. Who wasn’t even terribly friendly. But what else could I do?

Abram stayed for two weeks. Then three. Having him there began to feel normal, and the more normal I felt, the kinder he became. We watched movies and I told him my stories and he cleaned my house while I slept. Apparently, apparitions do not sleep. His face even softened a bit, though still square and serious. Sometimes, when he looked at me long enough, I though I saw a glimmer of affection for me. In those moments, I thought about kissing him. And remembered that he was not real and that kissing a fabricated person does not make sense. I still wondered how it would feel.

One night, I woke to the bedroom door opening.

Abram? He had never gone into my bedroom before. He didn’t reply. I couldn’t see his shape moving in the dark, but I knew it was him. And then I felt a thing that I don’t know how to explain. It was like having a rock set on my chest, cold and smooth. But the rock vibrated and silently hummed.

Abram, what are you doing? Now I could see him, inches from me. His face had the wild look it had the day he told me he would stay. He didn’t say anything. He pinned my chest down with one arm and pulled away at my brassiere; I only wore underthings to sleep. Part of me wanted to struggle away, but I was curious to see what he would do. He grasped at my body with those cool, cracked hands, forcing them across my back and between my legs. The vibration of his energy sank into my chest, but the weight of him stayed on top of me.

It wasn’t really sex. There was no thrusting or grunting or sweating. He entered back into my body, where he had come from. It was warming and safe and terrifying. I cried, wetting him with my tears as I came.  Afterwards, he kissed me on the mouth. His lips were cracked and tasted of dry tea leaves.

The next morning, he wasn’t in the apartment. I waited until I was going to be late for work. The doorknob felt like pins. I called in sick and waited. The afternoon wore on, bright and dusty, and I held the cat and my breath. I cooked myself pasta and felt empty, though I knew it was silly. Abram had been a dream and it was good that he had gone. That meant I wasn’t crazy anymore. I went to bed and touched all the places he had touched and tried to call back the memory, but it wasn’t the same. I fell asleep late in the night, wrestling over my relief and my despondency.

The next night, Abram came back. This time, he spoke, harshly. Told me to do things. Things I had read about in my older brothers’ dirty magazines but didn’t really want to do.

Why are you doing this? I asked.
You’ll like it.
What if I don’t? He didn’t reply.

I did like it. And I was so grateful to have him back.