we were cooking dinner round at her house, it was love at first sight but I was tussling with myself over the hob, mentally, about a problem I was having. I was in a real half-nelson, it was making things difficult.

I said, I'm going to have problems loving you. despite everything.

she said, what? and stopped stirring the noodles. despite everything?

I said, it's not you, it's me.

she said, talk.

there's going to be obstacles, I said, there's something I haven't been entirely honest about with you.

the vegetable spring rolls were going to be too crispy, her culinary skills left a little to be desired. I left a post-it on my brain that this was a good thing, there was room for moulding.

are you married? she said. is that it? I can handle married, although I'd expect a commitment somewhere down the line, in the end there'd have to be a transition. there are new protocols being finalised for infidelity as we speak, we could draw something up based on those.

married? if only it were that simple, I said.

well that's a relief she said and looked relieved. I was just trying to adopt a modern outlook, I'm not a great one for sharing.

I just came clean out with it, people never take it well.

the thing is, I said, I've got an imaginary friend I've made commitments to, I'm afraid I can't get out of them. there were promises made.

promises? she said.

I'm afraid so.

is there no way you could...unpromise? she said.

lofty ideals I thought, a good tick.

there were handshakes I said, imaginary ones. an understanding was reached.

oh dear, she said.

indeed, I said.

what's your name? she said.

 

Simon, I said, you'll complicate things just by being around, a new relationship needs privacy to nurture its growth. your presence might interfere with that.

she isn't the right one for you, Simon said, it'll end with a heartbreak and you'll be the one with the plasters and the iodine.

and how would you know that? I said, what makes you so sure there's misery in store and a headful of tears to be cried?

those things are always coming up on the road ahead, Simon said, haven't I showed you that a thousand times already, it's in the seed of everything.

this is different, I said, we're walking down a new road now where the sun's rising up and the darkness is behind our backs for the foreseeable.

aren't we waxing poetic all of a sudden Mr Flowery Words? said Simon, this won't be any ordinary fall when it comes if you carry on like this, you'll be stumbling and tumbling for weeks before you land on your face. I'll stay and wait to pick up the pieces, you might want rid now but in time it'll be a different story. there'll be moaning and wailing, you mark my words, I'll be a shoulder.

Simon, there just isn't the room, I said.

I'll sleep on the floor, he said, you won't even notice I'm there.

I've been having my doubts about us for a while, I said.

that's nothing to worry about, said Simon, all real friends have doubts about their imaginary friends, from time to time.

that doesn't allay my concerns, I said.

all real friends are never allayed by that piece of information, Simon said, but the feeling will pass just the same, it's just a phase.

compared to me, Simon has the wisdom of the oldest owl in the whole woods. he's been around. an answer for everything lies coiled in his imaginary mouth, just waiting to spring forth.

 

he wouldn't go, I said, I tried, but he was resilient.

resilient? she said, flicking her brush towards the canvas with a deft wrist action.

contumacious, I said, mulish. what should we do, a menage a trois is just a little too continental for my likening.

missionary? she said.

anything else would be deviant, I said.

she smiled. mutual sexual inhibitions.

where is he? she said.

how did you know he was male? I said.

you're a man, it was an obvious jump to make.

presumptuous, I thought, might get me in some tight corners.

he's right here, the little blighter never leaves my side.

where did you get him? her brush went for the red paint.

he just appeared one morning over coffee.

there was no request?

no, I didn't ask for him or anything, he just showed up out of the blue. it was a bloody imposition if you ask me.

you have to buy his food?

no one else would do it for him.

it must work out expensive having to look after him, she said.

sometimes, I said, but the imaginary economy fluctuates, you just have to know when to buy.

and what does he do?

I looked at Simon for some sort of answer.

he shrugged.

nothing really. tells me stories, dresses up, plays games, the usual. he's not the best imaginary friend a man could have.

Simon looked hurt, I felt a shade of guilt rise on my face.

I think you need to be firm with him, she said, take a stand.

it's not that easy, I said.

I think I'm going to call this one The Growing Frustration, she said. it started out as Bright Hopes Beckon.

it looked like an accident from where I was stood.

he's your imaginary friend when all's said and done, she said, try to make it sound appealing, the prospect of leaving you, like he's getting his freedom, that's an important concept for some people.

he's right here in front of you, I said, there's no use telling me I should try and fool him when he's listening in.

I'm so horny, she said, make him go away.

I'll try.

 

we set off walking home. I looked down and noticed that Simon was wearing the victorian gent outfit that he normally saved for Wednesdays. he was crying, there was water all over his face. little crocodile I thought.

it's not just me that wants you to stand on your own two feet, I said, she does too, you're outnumbered.

hold my hand, he said, I'm so scared with all these people around, they might bump into me and crush me to the ground, I'm so fragile.

I won't be holding your hand today, I said, or any other day from now on, it's time you grew up and went out to fight your own battles.

I hate the traffic, Simon said, the people, it's all too much for a fellow such as myself, I'll never get used to it I'm sure.

no one gets anywhere without trying, I said.

where I come from, there are no streets, just grass in all directions and if you want to travel anywhere you just have to whistle a special whistle and a giant bird will come and take you wherever it is you're going.

what rubbish, I said, there's no such place.

there is so, he said.

do the whistle then, I said to Simon, make the bird fly down and take us away.

I can't, he said, not here, it won't work, and he started crying properly.

I gave him a hug but he wouldn't stop.

 

is he still here? she said, a hand on her bra strap, I'm in the mood for love, it's urgent.

her stomach was alive with muscles. something was stirring in my loins.

I could lie, I thought, it'd be a small untruth, a white one. but what'd be the point, he'd only start screaming and banging his head against the wall, I wouldn't be able to keep up the charade for too long. he looked up at me with those huge eyes, imploring.

he's still here, I said, he's ill-equipped, I've mollycoddled him it seems. I couldn't turn him loose, he wouldn't have made it through the first night even. I just didn't have the heart.

she moved her hand away from the lace frill and picked up her cardigan.

my face dropped to the floor, Simon's lit up.

I picked up my face.

perhaps we could treat him as a child and get him a separate room, we could negotiate with him, I said.

she looked unimpressed. Simon folded his arms. there wasn't a whole lot of room left for manoeuvre.

it's him or me, she said, it's up to you.

is that smoke coming from the kitchen? I asked as dark clouds billowed out.

mind your own, she said.

 

are you enjoying the walk? I said to Simon, who was dressed as a dinosaur.

not really, he said, I suffer from vertigo as you might recall. it stems from that incident where I was tied to that log and pushed off down the river in the direction of the waterfall by those monkey charmers.

you're making it up, I said, that was a film, it didn't happen to you. all your stories are second-hand.

it did so happen, said Simon, you rescued me, remember?

I did not, I said, I can't swim.

oh.

the dinosaur costume was looking a little threadbare. it'd need patching up when we got home, I'd need to get some imaginary needle and thread.

do you like the sea? I said.

certainly, said Simon, next to land it is my favourite type of earth surface.

I stopped and looked over the edge, it was a long way down.

there was no one around.

do you want to play a game? Simon said.

not really, I said and gave him a shove in the back.

it was a long fall, I thought he might grow wings, but the idea didn't take hold.

 

he's gone, I said, there's an aching I need to be shaking.

I started stripping off.

not so fast, she said, where is he? I'm not so sure you're a man who can be trusted anymore.

she looked at my face sternly, she'll not be a walk-over I thought, this doesn't bode well.

I pushed him off a cliff, I said.

she gasped.

how did he take it? she asked. did he look as though he'd suffered?

I don't know, the sea swallowed him.

she sat down and lit a cigarette, it must have been shock. people are so fickle, they tell you one thing then act all upset when you actually get around to doing it.

was he young? she said, tears welling.

oh no, I lied, very old in fact, it was a mercy killing if anything. he might have been dead before I even touched him even.

does it count as murder? she asked, am I currently aiding and abetting a felon?

I hadn't thought about it. perhaps I had to answer for my actions.

it may count as an imaginary murder, I said, there might be an imaginary trial and an imaginary sentence to serve. but I'll try and make sure that doesn't happen.

keep my name out of the imaginary papers is all I ask, she said.

why are we talking? I said, there's just the two of us now.

she ripped off her clothes and lay down on the couch. it looked like so much geography that needed surveying.

oooohhhh, something behind me said.

did you hear something? I said.

no, she said, I'm eager, stop your stalling.

oooohhhh.

there it was again. I turned around, there was a white sheet on the ground with two eyeholes cut out. a Simon-shaped bump stood in the middle.

I thought you were dead, I said.

I am, it said, I'm the imaginary ghost of Simon.

are you going to make trouble? I asked.

what do you think? said the imaginary ghost of Simon.

I felt like crying.

who are you talking to? she said.

you wouldn't believe me if I told you, I said.

I thought you told me you'd taken care of things? she said.

it's worse than ever, I said. I'm afraid there've been unforeseeable difficulties, insurmountable complications in fact. you'd better get dressed.

what? she said, you can't leave me in a state of sexual arousal like this.

I'm sorry, I said, it's out of my hands.

Simon's imaginary ghost held out its hand and we walked through the door together.

outside, some people were staring.