\nIt\u2019s been a shit year for Derek, and it\u2019s been a good year for me. That sucks.\n<\/p>\n
\nI\u2019m enjoying my first car, my grades are good, and I\u2019m even getting into rock climbing. At least, I went twice this spring. Derek stays in his room 90% of the time. You can feel tension around him and his family, even just walking past their house.\n<\/p>\n
\nNobody admits it, but we all want to make our best friends jealous sometimes. It just stops feeling good when you clearly have every advantage. In the seven years we\u2019ve been friends, Derek and I have always been on basically the same level. In weirdly specific ways, too. Our moms are both chain smokers and birders. Our dads are both bad at keeping jobs. We\u2019re both trying (trying) to learn how to code. There are some reasons why I might be the jealous one. He\u2019s better at sports and gets a new phone basically every year, but he\u2019s not annoying about it.\n<\/p>\n
\nThings went downhill fast for him after his brother Miles died, back in February, the middle of our junior year of high school. Derek didn\u2019t drop out, but he was absent more often than not. I don\u2019t know if he passed any classes. It was a bad, bad time. But the really weird stuff began after school had ended.\n<\/p>\n
\nIn June, Derek was hired to dig up all the rocks around these 14 condos on the road toward the water treatment ponds. They\u2019d never had lawns, just yards full of dirt, weeds, and an absolute shit ton of rocks. Now, the property owner, Melinda, wanted to lay turf. She was friends with Derek\u2019s mom, and Derek\u2019s mom asked me to take the job too, to keep Derek company, keep him in good spirits and his mind on positive stuff. And to be his ride. It seemed like a good idea. I needed a summer job, and I\u2019m great at distracting people. I can go on and on about basketball, the \u201cFast and Furious\u201d saga, even politics or philosophy, as long as the person I\u2019m with isn\u2019t too smart. Derek will stand there and listen. At least, he\u2019ll respond as though he\u2019s listening. I don\u2019t test him on it.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe\u2019s one of these people who\u2019ll keep quiet all day, then suddenly blurt something that makes everyone crack up. He can do spot-on impressions of Hank Hill and Emperor Palpatine. But before, when he was quiet, he still seemed at ease, just lost in thought. The difference now is that he looks more like he\u2019s trapped in thoughts than lost. He clenches his jaw and paces around.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe first time we talked about his hallucinations was our first Friday on the job.\n<\/p>\n
\nWe\u2019d been working on the second front yard for about five hours. I had just dumped my third wheelbarrow load of rocks in a pile at the side of the road, and Derek was busy with his shovel. Busy isn\u2019t the right word. He was wandering around a corner on his half of the yard, poking at the ground occasionally. He\u2019d already removed practically every pebble from that corner, and now he was doing that slump-shouldered, zoned-out thing he does these days. I wasn\u2019t too worried, but this was why his mom wanted me here. To keep him from getting too far lost (or trapped) in his own head.\n<\/p>\n
\nI threw the wheelbarrow down on the rock pile and said, \u201cBreak time!\u201d He jumped at the sound, then we both went to my truck and grabbed our lunches from the cooler. We ate on the condo\u2019s side porch in the shade of some aspens. I chewed my roast beef and swiss with my mouth open, breathing heavily, more winded than you\u2019d think. Non-stop digging and wheelbarrowing is a serious workout. And these were big rocks. I wiped sweat off my forehead with a dirty hand. Derek didn\u2019t make any noise as he ate. He hadn\u2019t been exerting himself as much. He\u2019d worked hard the first two days, so I could tell something extra was weighing on him.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhen I\u2019d finished my sandwich, I cawed like a bird. The kind you hear in old west movies when someone\u2019s stranded in the desert. It was something he and I did on apocalyptically hot days like this.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cFor real,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYour ears are way red. Did you put on sunscreen?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe gave a small laugh, but didn\u2019t respond.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cDid you hear me?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cUh huh.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMcKayla tagged you in her Instagram story,\u201d I said. \u201cLooks like she misses you.\u201d She was this religious girl at school who\u2019d had a crush on Derek. Pretty hot despite kind of having a mustache.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI saw that,\u201d he said, and then, \u201cHey, you want to know something freaky that I don\u2019t usually tell people?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThat question should have made me nervous, but he sounded casual, like he was about to tell me about a birthmark on his thigh or something. And I was just glad to see him talking a bit. I responded with an eyebrow raise. It was supposed to mean \u201cDuh, I want to know,\u201d but I think he read it as something else. He hesitated before saying more.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI have hallucinations.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThat raised the hairs on my neck. I don\u2019t judge people for that kind of thing. Mental illness or whatever, but it was not what I expected.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cReally?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYeah. I sometimes hear people talking when I\u2019m alone, and I see people that I recognize in places where they shouldn\u2019t be. Like, back when I first moved here, I saw people from my old elementary school in the cafeteria.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhoa.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt happens when I\u2019m really stressed. It mostly stopped after freshman year, and I thought I\u2019d grown out of it, until it happened again a few days ago.\u201d He brushed crumbles of dirt out of his hair, \u201cI was sitting on my couch, dicking around on my phone, and I felt somebody walk up behind me. So I turned around, and you were there.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMe?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYeah. You said, \u2018What are you doing?\u2019 and I almost said, \u2018nothing,\u2019 before realizing that you couldn\u2019t actually be there, because it was like 10:00 PM and you hadn\u2019t texted or called or knocked on the door. Then I blinked, and you were gone.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWas it scary?\u201d I asked. \u201cDid I look weird?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nIt probably wasn\u2019t the right kind of question to ask.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe shrugged. \u201cNo. You just looked like you. It\u2019s sometimes scary, but mostly frustrating. Confusing.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHave you told anybody?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMy doctor. Not my parents. It\u2019s not a huge deal. But I guess it makes sense for it to start again now, considering everything.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI felt a twinge in my gut. Everything <\/em>referred to Miles, to the accident, and all it had done to Derek that I still couldn\u2019t possibly understand.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThat\u2019s crazy,\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n \nI know you\u2019re not supposed to say \u201ccrazy,\u201d but he\u2019s not easily offended. I kept my mouth shut then. Didn\u2019t want to grill him, and I definitely would if we kept talking about it. Would he have to take some kind of medication for the hallucinations? Was it possible for him to hallucinate anybody? Did he see Miles? If he did, was Miles\u2026 intact?\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cSorry if this is weird,\u201d he said, \u201cI just felt like I should tell you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019m glad you did,\u201d I replied, hoping he\u2019d seem more relaxed now that this\u2014confession?\u2014was off his chest. I tried to engage him in conversation about all the drama he\u2019d missed in school that spring. But he kept that same glazed look and only sort of responded to me for the rest of the day.\n<\/p>\n \nThe weekend came. On Sunday evening, I was home watching a plate of buffalo nuggets turn in the microwave, when a memory came into my head.\n<\/p>\n \nOkay, here\u2019s the thing. It\u2019s hard to explain. It wasn\u2019t a normal memory. It was like remembering something you saw on TV once, not something you were really present for. Like d\u00e9j\u00e0 vu, except that with d\u00e9j\u00e0 vu, you eventually realize that the thing you\u2019re remembering never actually happened.\n<\/p>\n \nI was standing in my kitchen, and out of nowhere, I remembered standing in Derek\u2019s living room, behind the big sectional sofa where we\u2019d spent hours\u2014days, honestly\u2014playing Grand Theft Auto and Skyrim. I could still see the microwave, but in my mind\u2019s eye, I saw Derek\u2019s living room. It was all blurry. Derek was sitting on the couch, hunched over with his face practically touching his phone, like he was trying to see something tiny, or trying to keep others from seeing the screen. It might have been porn. I really hope it wasn\u2019t. I could tell the windows were dark. It was nighttime.\n<\/p>\n \nHe suddenly turned around to see me. His face wasn\u2019t super clear in my mind\u2019s eye, but my brain filled in the missing details. And I heard (or remembered hearing) the words \u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d in my own voice. I stressed what <\/em>and doing.<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nAnd that was it. I blinked, and I was still in my kitchen, the microwave beeping, its glass fogging up with buffalo nugget steam.\n<\/p>\n \nI tried to remember when this had happened in real life, what had happened before and after, and I could not. I hadn\u2019t recently snuck up behind Derek\u2019s couch. Not that I could remember.\n<\/p>\n \nBut I did remember the hallucination he\u2019d described to me.\n<\/p>\n \nAs far as I could tell, I had just remembered his hallucination as though I\u2019d actually been there.\n<\/p>\n \nDerek\u2019s parents got him the rock-digging job as a way to keep him busy, focused and involved in something physical, since he really doesn\u2019t have a lot to do this summer, especially now that he isn\u2019t driving. Legally, he could drive. Everyone knows the accident wasn\u2019t his fault. His car didn\u2019t have four-wheel drive, and the tires slipped on the ice. It could\u2019ve happened to anybody, but he still won\u2019t get in a car these days.\n<\/p>\n \nHe broke his wrist in the accident, got some scrapes and a concussion, but nothing serious. Miles, who\u2019d been in the passenger seat, broke his neck and died.\n<\/p>\n \nI\u2019d only met Miles once or twice. He was ten years older than Derek, but they\u2019d been close anyway. Derek talked about him enough for me to have a good idea of who he was\u2014biology teacher, reptile enthusiast, pothead, \u201cso chill he\u2019s more of a sloth than a human,\u201d in Derek\u2019s words.\n<\/p>\n \nLike I said, Derek had missed school most days after Miles died, and he hardly left his house for months, but I still saw him as often as I could. When summer came around, he\u2019d probably put on 20 pounds (noticeable on a lanky guy like him) and he looked so white his skin was practically see-through. He was definitely in need of some outdoor activity.\n<\/p>\n \nAnyway, I thought I was totally up to the task of keeping him out of his own head, but I was not prepared for the hallucination-memory thing that happened that Sunday evening after the first week. When we were back at work at the condos the next day, I felt completely off my game, and I struggled to think of stuff to talk about. I stared at the wheelbarrow for long periods of time without actually putting any rocks in it. It didn\u2019t help that it was 98 degrees out.\n<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \nAt one point, Derek had to repeat himself twice before I realized he was asking me to come look at a bug.\n<\/p>\n \nWe walked over to a big, upturned rock, underneath which was a fat and juicy Jerusalem Cricket with a nasty orange head and striped abdomen. It looked at least 25% eaten by the ants crawling all around it.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cFrick, it\u2019s literally an alien,\u201d Derek said. \u201cIsn\u2019t that the same thing that you found on your backpack in Vegas?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYeah.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhat happened again?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt was\u2026uh…\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nMy mind went blank. It was like that memory of standing behind his couch was hogging all the room in my mind, burying my real memories.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cDidn\u2019t you freak out and throw your backpack at someone?\u201d he asked, though he knew the story as well as I did.\n<\/p>\n \nI nodded.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNothing.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThen, of course, I didn\u2019t know how to act natural, so I forced myself to look him in the eyes. He gave me a look like come on, aren\u2019t you supposed to be the one keeping my spirits up?<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nI swear the sun got ten degrees hotter. It was no secret that yes, that\u2019s why I was there, but I didn\u2019t want either of us to have to acknowledge it, even silently.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOkay seriously, what\u2019s wrong?\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNothing.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAlright.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHe went back to using the tiller, which made it too loud to talk.\n<\/p>\n \nThen things were not only awkward, I also felt guilty. But I highly doubt it would have helped him to hear the reason for my weird mood. Telling him that I remembered being present in his hallucination, where he might <\/em>have been watching porn, probably wouldn\u2019t ease his mind.\n<\/p>\n \nHe used the tiller and kept his headphones in for the rest of the day. His shoulders slumped more than usual, and somehow he kept his jaw clenched the whole time. Couldn\u2019t have been good for his teeth.\n<\/p>\n \nThe only break from our silence was when a lady came out of the condo we were working on and offered us lemonade. I actually jumped because she startled me so bad. It was easy to forget that people lived in some of these condos. I sometimes saw cars leaving or pulling up, and I heard people inside sneezing and laughing, but they kept their blinds closed while we worked.\n<\/p>\n \nAnother hallucination-memory thing came on Wednesday while I was scrolling through Netflix, out of nowhere, just like the first time. I saw Derek in his backyard, and again, it felt more real than a memory. More like a dream, because I could see and hear stuff. You know how sometimes you\u2019re drifting in and out of sleep, and you\u2019ll know that you’re lying in bed one second, then the next second, you might be standing in the ocean, seeing and hearing the waves? This was like that, except I never fell asleep or forgot where I really was.\n<\/p>\n \nHis backyard was blurry and bright, but there were flower bushes like the kind Derek\u2019s mom grows, and a big yellow shape that was probably the back of his house. He was sitting on his porch, writing on a piece of paper. I\u2019d never known him to write anything that Mr. Deursch didn\u2019t force him to for class. He looked up at me with the same startled expression as when he\u2019d seen me in his living room, then he crumpled up the paper, and the memory faded away.\n<\/p>\n \nI don\u2019t know when it actually happened. As in, I don\u2019t know when he had the hallucination of me in his backyard (if that really was what was happening). I guess it could have been days, maybe weeks earlier.\n<\/p>\n \nThursday morning, I considered telling him about the memories, since it had happened twice by then, but I couldn\u2019t imagine the conversation going in any good directions. Either he wouldn\u2019t believe me, which would completely suck, or he would, which would also suck, because then we\u2019d have to figure out whatever supernatural thing I was experiencing.\n<\/p>\n \nWe hardly talked that whole day. I couldn\u2019t figure out how to act like nothing was bothering me, and he seemed especially gloomy. He had dark circles under his eyes and didn\u2019t crack a smile once. I did ask him if he was feeling alright, and he said, \u201cJust another hundred degree rock-digging day.\u201d I wanted to ask what was weighing on him, but he would have shot the same question right back at me. And besides, I already knew at least part of what was weighing on him. Miles, the crash, all that horrible shit. That had to have something to do with the hallucinations. Right?\n<\/p>\n \nMelinda came by to see how the job was progressing. She was happy with our work, mostly, but I could tell she wanted us to have done a bit more than we had.\n<\/p>\n \nThe third memory-dream came on Friday evening while I was sitting on the toilet. In that one, I was suddenly in the old park that overlooks the river at the mouth of the canyon. It was dark out, so the mountainside behind the park was just a big black lump, but light from some lamp posts made it possible for me to see where I was. Everything was clearer this time\u2014the wooden sign with \u201cGod and Guns\u201d spray-painted on it, all the weird playground equipment made of tires. The park is about a ten minute walk from Derek\u2019s house. We used to go there a lot back in sixth grade, but it\u2019s pretty rundown now. It\u2019s not a place people hang out anymore\u2014at least not kids or families. The equipment is rusty, and the chain link fence that runs along the cliffside above the river to keep kids from falling has some holes in it. Somehow the city hasn\u2019t considered those important to fix.\n<\/p>\n \nDerek was just a few feet away from me, pacing back and forth by the old twisty slide. This time, when he turned to see me, he didn\u2019t look confused, but more upset. \u201cHello?\u201d he said. I didn\u2019t say anything. He shook his head before the memory ended.\n<\/p>\n \nIt felt more present than the previous memories had, probably because I was able to see more details. I even saw the scar on Derek\u2019s jaw from the time he fell off a skateboard, and I could hear the rushing of the river below the park. While I didn\u2019t feel <\/em>much, physically, I lost track of feeling where I truly was, which was in my bathroom. I didn\u2019t feel my body. It was like I was floating.\n<\/p>\n \nI think this one was a memory of a hallucination he\u2019d had just the night before, because he was wearing the same white shirt and brown hoodie he\u2019d worn that day. And that would make sense considering the fact that I could see and hear more clearly. In regular memories, it\u2019s easier to recall details when they are more recent.\n<\/p>\n \nAs that memory faded out of my mind, I got a deep, cold shiver.\n<\/p>\n \nI was even more sure that it would be a bad idea to tell him about the memories. The fact that he\u2019d had this hallucination in that weird old park\u2014in the middle of the night\u2014made it feel private, like I was seeing something he wouldn\u2019t want me to see. I can\u2019t imagine what he\u2019d have been doing out there on Thursday night, all by himself. Maybe he and Miles had played there when he was a little kid? I hated to think about that. It must have been so painful for him.\n<\/p>\n \nI thought about telling someone else, though. A therapist, maybe. Not the school counselor. A few months after Derek\u2019s accident, she\u2019d said \u201cis it actually helpful for him to miss school, or is he maybe finding a reason to miss school?\u201d I didn\u2019t have the money for a real therapist though, and anybody else would have thought I was insane. But keeping it to myself was like keeping a bowling ball in my chest. It was easy, at least, for me to act chill around my family. If my parents noticed that I was quiet or different, I could chalk it up to being exhausted from digging rocks.\n<\/p>\n \nThe whole second work week had been painful, since Derek and I barely talked, and the weekend was hardly better. I couldn\u2019t stop worrying and ended up getting sick with a fever and stomach ache on Saturday night. Sunday morning, I was supposed to wake up early to drive Derek to a bake sale that some of the girls from our class had put on to raise money for the volleyball team.\n<\/p>\n \nI slept in until one.\n<\/p>\n \nThe bake sale would have been Derek\u2019s first time around some of our friends from school since the accident. We still weren\u2019t sure if he\u2019d be going to school again next year. Even before the accident, he\u2019d never been much of a school person, and sometimes he\u2019d just walk home after lunch, leaving me to suffer through Mr. Deursch\u2019s lectures on my own. This bake sale was supposed to be like a toe back in the water.\n<\/p>\n \nI texted him when I woke up to apologize for sleeping in, and he responded, \u201cDon\u2019t worry about it. I slept in too.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI felt like a pile of crap. He\u2019d been looking forward to seeing some of our friends again, especially the girls, and I\u2019d worried that when the day came, he might change his mind and back out. I could\u2019ve forced him to go if I\u2019d woken up.\n<\/p>\n \nDerek didn\u2019t show up for work at the condos the following Monday, and he only worked a couple of hours each day for the rest of the week. He said he\u2019d caught the same bug as me, because he\u2019d been throwing up, and he didn\u2019t want to exert himself too much for a few days. If he was lying, I wasn\u2019t going to call him out.\n<\/p>\n \nThe rocks still had to get dug up, so I worked extra hard. Melinda showed up a couple times, and she seemed unconcerned about my lack of progress. She knew Derek was sick. Still, I wasn\u2019t comfortable about it. She was going to pay us a handsome sum, as an old British person might say\u2014around $2500 each\u2014and some of that was contingent on finishing the job on time.\n<\/p>\n \nI got a gnarly sunburn on my neck, fat blisters, and black fingernails. I must have sucked at using the tiller, because it just scraped against the rocks (worst sound imaginable) without actually pulling them up. I don\u2019t know how Derek managed to make it work.\n<\/p>\n \nThe few hours that he did show up for work, it wasn\u2019t any easier for me to be cheery, but I tried harder. I forced myself to talk, even if I could only think of stupid things to say, like \u201cHow\u2019s your mom\u2019s candle business\u201d and \u201cI wish we\u2019d get some rain.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAt one point, he stopped digging, leaned on his shovel and said, \u201cOkay for real, you\u2019ve been acting weird. What\u2019s the deal? You can just tell me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI stalled by pulling off my work gloves then ruffling the dust from my hair.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019m just, you know, worried about figuring life out after high school. College applications and stuff.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHe frowned.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhy wouldn\u2019t you just tell me the truth?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nIt was a good question. He\u2019d opened up to me about his hallucinations. Didn\u2019t he deserve my honesty?\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI am telling the truth,\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo you\u2019re not.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWell, I don\u2019t have to tell you everything I\u2019m thinking about, do I?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nMy tongue dried up as I spoke. My mind knew it was a reasonable statement, but my body still didn\u2019t like me saying it.\n<\/p>\n \nDerek sucked on his upper lip, shrugged and turned away. \u201cFair enough.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe last thing it felt was fair.\n<\/p>\n \n \nWe were still working on the fifth condo when we should have been done with the seventh. That week, another two memories came.\n<\/p>\n \nOn top of my growing pile of questions and anxieties, I knew that if Derek was having more hallucinations, it meant he was getting more stressed out. I was failing miserably at both the job of digging up rocks and the job of cheering him up.\n<\/p>\n \nThese two memories were even clearer than the memory of the park, which made me think they also came into my mind shortly after Derek\u2019s actual hallucinations. In the first one, I was in Miles\u2019s old bedroom. I recognized it by the framed pictures of Derek and Miles from their trip to Mexico back when they were kids. Derek was sitting on the floor with a box of papers, books, and a couple of those Peruvian pan flutes. Miles\u2019 old stuff. When Derek looked at me, his eyes were red and swollen. I heard myself say \u201cHey, it\u2019s alright,\u201d and he turned away as the memory faded.\n<\/p>\n \nI felt another deep shiver after that one. Even with all that\u2019s happened to him, I can\u2019t remember the last time I\u2019ve seen him cry.\n<\/p>\n \nThe second one freaked me out more, though. I was in the rundown park by the canyon, at nighttime again. There was a breeze, and the swings on that junky, rusted swing set were swaying and squeaking. This time, Derek was sitting down on a bench beneath a group of trees that cast him in shadow. He looked off toward the cliff side over the river.\n<\/p>\n \nHe never looked at me.\n<\/p>\n \nThat was new, and scary. I mean, all of the memories scared me, and the memories of the park were especially unnerving, but the fact that this time Derek hadn\u2019t noticed me\u2014that I was just there, doing my own thing. That was a lot.\n<\/p>\n \nI decided then to tell him what was going on. It was the only way to ease my mind. His as well, but mostly mine. I\u2019d barely slept for days and felt sick whenever I ate.\n<\/p>\n \nI went to his house on Sunday evening, and it took about two hours of cringy small talk and aimless wandering on Skyrim before I mustered the courage to say something. I sputtered it out while he grabbed Mountain Dews from the fridge.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI have something to say that\u2019s weird and serious. It\u2019s not supposed to be a joke.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOkay,\u201d he said, and there was a hint of excitement in his voice. He was probably ready for me to say something real for the first time in two weeks\u2014not more BS about his mom\u2019s business or the weather.\n<\/p>\n \nMy heart pounded. It made my voice catch, but I forced the words out. \u201cI think I\u2019m starting to\u2026 remember times that you hallucinate me, as though I\u2019m actually there. As though I\u2019m not just a hallucination, but there <\/em>somehow. I\u2019m getting these images, just popping into my head, and\u2013\u2013and\u2013\u2013\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nMy mind spun out. I had prepared a clear explanation before going to his house, but after I started talking, all hope was lost.\n<\/p>\n \nHe wrinkled his eyebrows, like I\u2019d held a calculus problem up to his face. And he just stood there holding the Mountain Dew cans, totally silent.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThe first time was when you saw me standing behind your couch. I remembered being <\/em>there, seeing you, hearing myself talk.\u201d I cleared my throat. \u201cThe times since, you\u2019ve been around your house, or outside. And a few times, you\u2019ve been\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI paused.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019ve been what?\u201d he said with a low, tight voice.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou\u2019ve been at the old park by the canyon.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHis mouth opened. His eyes got wider.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhen?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThat\u2019s the thing, I don\u2019t know when it actually happens. The memories show up later. But the first time I remembered seeing you at the park was last Friday.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHe blinked a couple times, put the Mountain Dews on the kitchen counter and kept his eyes on the floor.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWill you leave?\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhat?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWill you leave, please? I don\u2019t want to talk about whatever this is.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cBut\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo, don\u2019t say anything else. Just leave please.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHe gave this straight-mouthed and piercing-eye look that I\u2019d never seen on him before. So I stood up, dropped my Xbox controller on the couch, and left.\n<\/p>\n \n \nHe avoided me completely after that. Didn\u2019t show up to work on Monday or Tuesday, wouldn\u2019t respond to my texts, and he left me to do the stupid rock job on my own. I get that he was stressed out, but how did it help to make us get even farther behind with the condos? How did it help either of us for him to ignore the problem, and ignore me?\n<\/p>\n \nIt\u2019s not like he was the only one affected by the hallucinations.\n<\/p>\n \nI kept texting him, and I called his parents. They said he was feeling sick again, but at least they apologized for the fact that I was having to do his job for him. They\u2019d spoken to Melinda, who told me it was okay if the job took a few extra days. That only relieved like 5% of my stress. It didn\u2019t make the work easier or less hot.\n<\/p>\n \nI wondered who else he sees in his hallucinations, and if the same thing happens to them that\u2019s happening to me. I also wondered about the words I spoke to Derek in his hallucinations. I mean, I\u2019m not the one thinking of them, I\u2019m just the one remembering them. So who is it that\u2019s thinking of things to say? Is the hallucination version of me thinking on its own?\n<\/p>\n \nThe worst thought that occurred to me was the possibility that Derek knew something about these memories that I didn\u2019t. What if there was something going on that he didn\u2019t want me to know about?\n<\/p>\n \nWhat if he was making <\/em>this happen?\n<\/p>\n \nMostly, I wondered if I was just going insane.\n<\/p>\n \nI hoped that if I kept having the memories, I\u2019d eventually figure out what was happening. Every memory I\u2019d had up to that point had been clearer than the one that came before, and that had to mean something. At some point, would I become more conscious when the memories arrived, like with lucid dreaming? Would I be able to control my hallucination-self?\n<\/p>\n \nDigging rocks and tilling dirt all by myself for two days was a steamy mound of bullshit. My hands were two big, oozy blisters by Wednesday, and once again, Derek didn\u2019t show up. I was so exhausted after work that I collapsed into bed as soon as I got home, filthy and sweaty. My whole body ached, and as badly as I wanted to fall asleep, I couldn\u2019t shake this feeling that maybe I should try yet again to contact Derek. I was in no mood to chat with him, but maybe I could at least know if he was doing okay. Since I knew he wouldn\u2019t answer my texts or calls, I forced myself to get out of bed, walk to his house and knock on the door. His bedroom window was lit up, and I saw some movement through the blinds, but he didn\u2019t answer.\n<\/p>\n \nBoy was I mad.\n<\/p>\n \n \nFriday night came. I was not doing well. No sleep, endless blisters, and another sunburn from pushing that god-damned wheelbarrow. I was ready to confront Derek at all costs. No bullshit. Even though it was 11:00 pm, I was going to go to his house, pound on the door until he answered, and demand that he tell me what was going on.\n<\/p>\n \nBut a memory came into my head as I knelt by the front door, tying my shoes.\n<\/p>\n \nIt was different. Really different.\n<\/p>\n \nI could see it too <\/em>clearly. The park, the playground equipment, the trees on the mountains, even the bark of aspen trees on the cliff above the river. I felt the night breeze, the cold, dewy grass\u2013\u2013I was barefoot in the hallucination. Still, I could sort of see my house and front door, where I really was, but it was much more blurry. I felt the warm wind outside more strongly than I felt the conditioned air in my house. My surroundings were dark, even though I knew the lights were on in my house. I was in both places at once, and much more in the memory-dream thing than I\u2019d ever been before.\n<\/p>\n \nIt wasn\u2019t a memory, I realized.\n<\/p>\n \nIt was happening now. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nSomehow, I could tell that there was no distance in time between what I was seeing and Derek\u2019s hallucination. He was there at the park, beside the chain link fence on the cliffside above the river, looking at me. And I was looking at him.\n<\/p>\n \nRelying on what little I could see of my real surroundings, I went outside and got in my car. I saw the road with only a fraction of my vision. My body felt like it was floating again, and I barely felt the gas pedal beneath my foot, the sensation of wet grass overwhelming it. I kept swerving, unsure if the trees I saw in front of me were trees in the park or trees on the side of the road. And as I drove, too fast, Derek still stood in front of me, and I stood in front of him, motionless.\n<\/p>\n \nI wondered, when I arrived, would I see the hallucination version of myself, standing there by Derek? Would it disappear?\n<\/p>\n \nWould I <\/em>disappear?\n<\/p>\n \nWas I a ghost? Was I turning into that hallucination version of me? If that version was getting more real, was my real self fading out of existence? Like Marty in that photograph in Back to the Future?<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nI drove over a curb twice.\n<\/p>\n \nThe sound of the river grew louder in my ears.\n<\/p>\n \nA car honked at me when I started to drift into the oncoming lane.\n<\/p>\n \nBut somehow, I didn\u2019t crash.\n<\/p>\n \nI got to the park and left my car in the middle of the parking lot. Couldn\u2019t park in the lines even if I\u2019d taken the time to try. I could see Derek with my actual eyes now, and he was alone, looking at the spot where the hallucination version of me should have been standing. I didn\u2019t see it. From my point of view\u2013\u2013my real <\/em>point of view, it looked like he was staring at nothing.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cDerek!\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHe turned around, and my other point of view\u2014the hallucination\u2019s point of view, disappeared.\n<\/p>\n \nIt was just me now, seeing everything through my own eyes.\n<\/p>\n \nDerek ran up to me.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAre you real?\u201d he said, sounding so desperate, so scared,<\/em> that I forgot how mad I was, and every suspicion I\u2019d had. All I could think about was how pale he was, how dark the circles under his eyes had gotten.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYes.\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n \nHe shoved my shoulder, hard enough that I stumbled backwards.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019m real!\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHe put his hands on top of his head, pacing in a circle. \u201cHow am I supposed to know? I could be imagining all of this!\u201d He swore.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cHey!\u201d I said. \u201cRelax! I promise I\u2019m real. I don\u2019t know what\u2019s happening either. But let\u2019s just sit down and breathe for a second.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nIt took a long time for him to stand still and slow his breathing, but when he did, we sat on the bench by the playground.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI knew you were out here,\u201d is what came from my mouth.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI know,\u201d he said, then after a long sigh, \u201cAnd I know you were telling me the truth, about what\u2019s been happening.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou do?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYeah.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThen why were you so upset?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI didn\u2019t want to believe you. It made everything worse. But I knew that you had to be telling the truth. You always show up.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou always appear. Here, and other times when things are really bad. God, if my mind is already this screwed up at seventeen,\u201d he said, \u201cwhat\u2019s it going to be like when I\u2019m forty?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt might get less screwed up. It doesn\u2019t have <\/em>to get worse.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHe stood up from the bench, then lay down flat on his stomach in the grass, which glimmered with dew.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhat are you doing out here?\u201d I asked.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019ve been seeing other people, too. Random people I knew when I was a little kid. And Miles, sometimes. He\u2019s blurry. Only there for a couple seconds. None of them seem as real as you. They don\u2019t move or sound like real people. And they\u2019re never here<\/em>.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhy are you <\/em>out here?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nDerek sighed, still flat on his stomach in the grass. \u201cI think about jumping off the cliff. I wrote a note and everything. You were there for that.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOh,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cStill,\u201d he continued, \u201ceven you might just be a figment of my fucked-up mind. What if I\u2019m in a coma or something?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou\u2019re not. Both of us are actually here.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nDerek turned his face away from me.\n<\/p>\n \nI doubted my own sanity then. He was right. Nothing made sense unless one of us was imagining everything. Maybe I <\/em>was in the coma.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhat will convince you that I\u2019m real?\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n \nHe reached back and batted his hand around until hitting my ankle, which he grabbed and squeezed.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI guess I\u2019ve never been able to touch you before.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI thought for a long while, and he kept hold of my ankle. His hand was ice cold.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou can\u2019t just hallucinate anybody that you want, can you?\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo. I can\u2019t control anything about it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI drove here on my own. Didn\u2019t just appear. So let\u2019s go find someone else and see if they can also see me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s the middle of the night.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cGas stations are open. We\u2019ll ask the cashier if they see me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOh god.\u201d Derek let go of my ankle and put his hands beneath his face.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAm I wrong?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHe groaned. \u201cNo. Let\u2019s try it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nIt took what felt like ten minutes, but he got up, stretched, and picked up a wood chip and threw it like a frisbee. He looked at me every few seconds as we walked to the car.\n<\/p>\n \nWe went to the nearest gas station and got blue raspberry slushies. I barely tasted mine. The cashier said she could see and hear both of us, and she didn\u2019t seem to care why we\u2019d asked.\n<\/p>\n \nI slept on the floor in Derek\u2019s room that night. Neither of us faded out of existence.\n<\/p>\n \nWe didn\u2019t talk a whole lot. But at one point, as he lay on his back, one arm slung over his eyes, he said, \u201cI know it\u2019s not my fault that Miles died. But it\u2019s hard not to blame myself anyway. And now that it\u2019s happened, it\u2019s like, how can I ever feel okay again? What if things get worse?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019ll try to keep that from happening.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cHow?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo idea. However I can.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI fell asleep before he said anything else.\n<\/p>\n \nIn the morning, Derek asked his mom to take him to the hospital. I just hope he gets some rest and doesn\u2019t hallucinate there. I hate hospitals. I still haven\u2019t decided if I should talk to someone about what\u2019s been happening. Part of me thinks it could be bad if I got this fixed, whatever it is, because I was <\/em>the only hallucination of his that ever showed up when he was at that creepy old park, on that cliff above the river. While I sure as hell don\u2019t want to show up there again, I also hope that I do. If he needs me.\n<\/p>\n Dallin Hunt has an MFA in creative writing and teaches at Utah Valley University. A story of his was recently accepted for publication in SORTES, and he was just named a finalist in the 2023 Owl Canyon Press Hackathon. He loves mountains, snow, Mario games, hockey, and libraries.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" It\u2019s been a shit year for Derek, and it\u2019s been a good year for me. That sucks. I\u2019m enjoying my first car, my grades are good, and I\u2019m even getting into rock climbing. At least, I went twice this spring. Derek stays in his room 90% of the time. You can feel tension around him …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":107953,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,20133],"tags":[20134],"class_list":["post-140324","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-tcl-50-winter-2024","tag-the-colored-lens-50-winter-2024","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140324","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/107953"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=140324"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140324\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":140325,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140324\/revisions\/140325"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=140324"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=140324"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=140324"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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