Dusty

[CoffeeTable]

I love going out to dinner with my family, I always have since I was very young. When my father gets to talking at the dinner table he always brings up stories from when my sister and myself were children, far before we could have any conscious memories of anything other than huge life changing events. These stories always somehow involved how hilarious we were as children. He would tell tales of how I would open my sisters birthday present and play with them because I was helping her. Or he would tell of the time my sister dressed me up in dresses and parade me around like we were princesses at a ball, this was an absolutely hysterical story for not only my father but also for my wife who now has the mental image of her husband in a snow white dress. I loved coaxing these tales out of him, It really displayed how our family had gone through good times and bad times. My father would get a detail wrong and my mother would laugh and correct him, she would always laugh and hide in my fathers arm so we wouldn't see her “ugly laughing face” as she would call it. I remember seeing her doing it at dinner one night and thinking “that right there is what love looks like.” It made me curious, I asked “How did you two meet?” hoping to hear the romantic story of their younger years. “We’ve told you this story hundreds of times Alex” my mother answered. I couldn't remember ever hearing this story before. “Well tell it again anyway.” I replied. “Well it isn't a hollywood love story if thats what you are thinking. We met at one of my closest friends funerals my freshman year of high school.” I was shocked to hear this, I was even more shocked to think I had forgotten being told. “Dustin Reeves family’s station wagon was hit on the way home from Mammoth Cave. He, his mother and his father died instantly and his little sister died shortly after in the hospital, your Grandmother on your mothers side was best friends with his mother, so your mother got coaxed into going and my entire football team went. Her and I saw each other and the rest is history” “You met at a dead boy’s funeral and never brought him up to us?” I asked completely confused. “We talked about him all the time when you were younger, perhaps too much.” He replied. “What do you mean?” I asked puzzled. “Your father, before he had the stories of his two pride and joys, would tell his adventures with Dustin. Alex I am honestly surprised you don't remember him. Your father would tell you stories every night of how he and Dustin snuck into a power plant to save baby birds or boycotted the dress code at school by wearing dresses.” I remembered all these stories he would tell but for some reason the other boy was nonexistent. They were tales of my fathers exploits. I couldn't recall a second person in any of them. “In fact you loved my stories so much you made up your own Dustin to go on adventures with.” My father continued. “Thank god that ended though.” replied my mother. “You forced your mother to raise not only you but your imaginary friend.” My father explained. “Everywhere you went Dusty had to go, and he had to be buckled in. If I fed you a spoon of peas I had to feed him a spoon of peas. If I had to wipe your butt I’d have to wipe his but too.” My mother interrupted. This really got a kick out of my wife. “Awh little Alex had an imaginary friend.” she mocked. I blushed. “Did he ever say what his imaginary friend looked like?” She asked now very into my young mind. “He said he looked just like a normal boy but made of dust.” My father answered. For some reason this sent chills down my spine. “You know some people believe that imaginary friends of children are actually ghost right? They say we lose the ability to talk to the dead with age.” I replied. “That actually would explain something thats been bothering me for years.” replied my mother. “Remember that one night Alex couldn't sleep?” My mother looked to my father for details. “Of course I do, he always slept so well, but one night you came waddling in our room in his footy pajamas, you couldn't have been more than six years old, and you said Mommy, Daddy, I can’t sleep. And your mother asked well whys that? And you replied Dusty is in my closet crying. so I asked why is dusty crying in your closet and you said because his mommy and daddy left him alone.” My heart skipped a beat. My mouth went completely dry. “Well what did you do?” My wife asked very curiously. I could tell she was very into the story being told, I was not. My mother took over the story “I walked into his room and said Dusty stop crying, its time for Alex to go to sleep. He has school in the morning and has to get up really early! And Alex crawled right up in bed and fell asleep.” “Well thats maybe the creepiest story ever told at this table” I replied. “Nonsense, should I tell your wife about your uncles friend Rex?” my father asked. “Whose Rex?” Asked my wife. “His hairy stomach.” I replied. Everyone laughed and dinner went on as usual and I stopped thinking about my old friend Dusty. My wife and I drove home, went to bed, woke up the next morning, went to work and continued on with our lives as young people in love. Many years later her and I had my daughter Isabelle. She's a beautiful little girl with dark brown hair like her mother and blue eyes that she got from me. Well today was Isabelle’s sixth birthday, and I found her in her room playing alone instead of at the party my wife was throwing her. “Why aren't you out there playing with your friends?” I asked Isabelle sweetly. “Because I’m playing with my friend in here Daddy.” Replied Isabelle. “Oh you have an imaginary friend? Hi, I’m Dad! Whats your name?” I extended my hand towards the air in front of my daughter. “Dusty” she replied smiling at me.