It had been a few years since I had seen my mother in person. She lived a few states away and my schedule was very demanding. On this summer night, we were enjoying a few drinks and sharing stories from the past. Laughing about the time my mother cracked an egg on my brother's head, how my sisters once climbed out of their bedroom window to avoid cleaning their room.
I brought up our time in New York as well. I don't remember much from that time. I do remember playing outside with my brother and the neighborhood kid. When we were that little, the snow didn't seem to be as cold. It felt like we could be out there all day, but mom would call us inside before too long to warm up. However, when summer came around, I can't remember a time we were inside other than dinner and bedtime. The neighborhood kid came out to play whenever we were outside. Soon, him and I became very close and did everything together. And when I was scared he was there too. My mom and dad, that are now divorced, would fight and I would hide under my bed. Most of the time, my friend was with me. To this day I don't remember his name, but I remember him very well.
I remember that he was older than me, maybe by a couple years. We met while at my grandparent's lake house one summer. He wore the same water shoes every time, and I always complimented him on them. They were like the kind of shoes you would wear to the beach. His hair was sandy blonde and he had brown eyes. But my favorite part was that he was always excited to see me.
Unfortunately, my mom didn't like him. I couldn't understand why and she offered no explanation. She didn't want us playing together and she didn't want him in the house anymore. I would still sneak around to see him and sneak him in the house so that we could play. My mom did find out a couple times and she would get so mad, yelling at him to leave and leave me alone. One time when we were playing, I heard my mom coming. I was so upset because he was my best friend by this point. We ended up moving to another state and I never saw him again. I would think about him once in a while and wonder how he was doing, but I still couldn't remember his name.
While I was talking with my mom and remembering this time, she stayed quiet the whole time. After coming out of my memories I asked her, "Why didn't you like him? Why did he make you so upset?" She took a few seconds to respond, she took a deep breath and looked at me with a very haunted expression. "There was no boy, there was no kid that you played with in New York."