Notes from No One

“How was your day today, Cas?”

My 12-year-old daughter turned her face away from the window, sighed dramatically and said, “Sandra says I am too old to have an imaginary friend. But I love having him around, mommy, please tell me she’s wrong.”

As a professional psychiatrist, you might imagine me as an ideal mom who has the perfect relationship with her daughter but in the end it’s not Dr. Julia Hill but just Julia who bonds with Cassy.

So, I start off, “Of course not honey, it’s really good to have a friend only for yourself.” I could already see her relaxing in the car seat, so, I continued, “But why haven’t I ever heard about him before, want to spill the beans?”

 

My daughter smiled shyly and said, “No one is my friend.”

 

I tried to reason, “It’s okay honey, you will make friends, no need to be sad.” My daughter started to giggle, “No mommy, my friend is literally No one, Mr. No One, even I can’t see or talk to him. He just writes me notes.”

 

Finally getting a gist of the entire case I too joined my daughter in her giggles.

 

Then as I pulled over on our driveway, she rummaged in her bag pack and pulled out a bunch of color notes. “See mommy, his handwriting is so good and his words are so kind.”

I smile knowing that those color notes were indeed a present from me. No doubt Cas was herself writing them but I believe in letting imagination live so, I went along with her story.

 

Humoring her I said, “Indeed Mr. No One seems like a really sweet man, you should let him tag along as long as you want.”

 

Smiling brightly, she replied, “I knew you would say this, even Mr. No One likes you, in his last note he said he will always help you. Here, you can keep it.”

 

Tucking in the pink note, I say, “Aww, that’s so sweet honey, now let’s rush in and not let my tummy grumble any longer.”

 

We climb the 25 stairs to the third floor of the building and I unlock the door to my apartment with the nameplate Mr. and Mrs. Sanders, a cold feeling grips my heart but I shrug it off, tomorrow I will remove the plate.

 

After cleaning the dishes and getting Cassy to sleep, I open my inbox and start typing an apology to my boss.

I try yet again to explain how I can only work for half a day for some time as in such a challenging time, no one is there to take care of Cassy. Writing this response, I am forced to chuckle that maybe Cassy must have heard this conservation and thought ‘No One’ indeed had her back.

 

But at the end I do mention that if Cassy is allowed in my cabin, then I can work full time too. Cas can do her homework as I talk to my patients.

 

The clock struck 10pm. ‘It’s not too late, for a sip.’ Within a matter of minutes, I poured down nearly the entire bottle of alcohol.

As I started to feel the weightlessness, I started to laugh, how ironical, looks like I myself need a therapist now. But I have no one to help me. Yeah, cheers to Mr. No One.

 

I stood up, steadied myself a little and hobbled outside where I threw the remaining liquor. I was never an alcoholic but then things change and a week ago was a long time. I had just closed the door, when I heard knocking.

 

It was an odd hour; I should probably have ignored the door, but instead the drunk me opened it and came face - to - face with my ex-husband.

“George.”

“Julia, listen, I am extremely sorry. You know how much I love you.”

 

“Get out.”

 

“Listen, this time it will work, I just need a bit of start-up money.”

 

“Get out!”

 

“Now don’t be like this, just give me the money. Think about us and Cas…”

 

“There is no 'us' and no Cas for you, this was made clear last week in the court. Now GET OUT!”

 

George was going to retaliate but I had enough of him, all the events of the past year, his fake assurances, alcoholism and abuse started to cloud my mind and with the strength unimaginable in me, I started to close the door on his face.

 

He was cursing me as I saw him slip on the liquor I had thrown. He could have fallen forwards on me but instead it felt as if someone had pulled him backwards.

 

No one looked on with me as he tumbled down those 25 stairs, each claiming his last breath. No one heard me laugh and then sit with shock and cry. No one waited with me as I called the police.

 

When the police came, they believed me that No one did this. They closed the case stating a drunk ex-husband slipped on the stairs. They didn’t mention No One.

 

As each day pass this incident, I feel much better. Guess I needed No One to pull my life together.