Harmony

“Harmony told me her mom and dad don’t make her eat green beans,” he said at dinner.

It wasn’t unusual for Marcella to hear her son Jaime, in the weeks leading up to his first day of Kindergarten, talk about his friend Harmony. In fact, he’d been bringing her up frequently - over dinner, during play time, even while watching their tiny, old television.

Sometimes she wanted him to draw a picture for her. Other times, she asked to play Police Pups with Jaime - Harmony wasn’t familiar with the show, so she relished the opportunity to see Jaime act out the latest episode.

There were days that Marcella would watch him play with Harmony. Yes, he’d talk to her as if she were actually there, but that wasn’t at all worrying. That’s what kids do with their imaginary friends, Marcella thought. It was totally normal.

When Jaime started school, however, Marcella’s perspective on the Harmony issue shifted. Patterns that had probably been there along, obscured by the eventful monotony of single parenthood, began to reveal themselves.

First, she noticed that Jaime never talked about Harmony just after returning home from school. He was always perfectly pleasant and willing to tell his mother about a new color he had just invented or the story of a hungry insect that he’d reinterpreted with his own imagination.

“Jaime, my beautiful son, what did you learn in school today?”, she’d ask as he bounded off of the bus and into her waiting arms. “A triangle has three sides, but a square has 4,” he’d reply. Or “July happens in the summer.” 

He’d mention friends he had met at school - real, flesh-and-bone kids. Marcella knew Karlos already - he was a quiet boy who lived down the street, and had met Tanya’s mom at a recent PTO meeting. Maybe he’s growing up, she would tell herself, and his imaginary friend will fade into the background.

He’s a happy kid. I’m sure he will be fine.

But Harmony hadn’t disappeared at all. She was just becoming more compartmentalized. After playing in his room while Marcella made dinner, Jaime’s focus would flip. He’d be raving over the chilaquiles (or “chikays” in the mind of a five-year-old) that Tanya’s mom had packed for her lunch one minute, then he’d be showing up at the dinner table with a drawing of a made-up animal that Harmony had described to him. From dinner until bedtime, Jaime existed in a world free of triangles, July, and Karlos. It was only Harmony. Marcella was stumped, but altogether unworried.

In addition to noticing the timing of his allusions to his imaginary friend, though, a conversation with Tanya’s mom Paula triggered another realization in Marcella.

“Tanya has this imaginary friend called Dingle...I think he’s a clown or something, I don’t really know,” she mentioned over drinks after a particularly dull PTO meeting, “It’s ridiculous, but I guess it’s cute too. She always makes sure we save a seat for Dingle at dinner. Last night, she insisted that I set a place for him too - plate, utensils, everything. I halfway expected her to give him a piece of chicken too, but she knows we can’t be giving our food away to fake clowns and such.”

Marcella laughed at the story. “A clown?!” she said, “That’s too much!”

On the drive home, however, it hit her: Jaime has never pretended to save Harmony a seat.

*******

“I made these green beans special,” Marcella said, “Why don’t you invite Harmony out to have dinner with us?”

For two days after the conversation with Paula, Marcella struggled to find meaning in her sudden epiphany that Harmony has never joined them for dinner (or breakfast, or lunch, or a movie…). “Is this strange? She is an imaginary friend - does it matter if he doesn’t act the same way Tanya does?” she sat up in bed and asked herself out loud. 

“Is there something wrong with my son?” 

It took her more time to build up the courage to press the issue.

“No,” Jaime responded flatly.

“Why not?” his mother asked.

“She can’t. She said she can’t.”

“What do you mean?” she pushed further.

“I don’t know,” Jaime shrugged. “She just can’t.”

She was perplexed by his direct denial. “Why don’t you go ask her to join us now?”

“Ok, I guess,” he said with uncertainty, “But she can’t.”

As Jaime entered his room confident in the futility of his effort, Marcella listened to the conversation carefully.

“My mom wants you to come to dinner. [pause] I know, right? [pause] Okay. [pause] Like this? [pause] Are you sure? [pause] Okay. [pause]” Only Jaime’s voice was present, but it was clear to Marcella that her son was engaging in a dialogue in his own mind.

I don’t think this is normal actually, Marcella thought.

Jaime returned to the dining room shortly after this odd encounter. He was holding a piece of paper in his hand, which he gave to Marcella.

“Here, mom,” he said, “Harmony told me to draw this and give it to you. Her dad told her you’d know what it means.”

On the paper, drawn in orange crayon with the hand of a child, were two circles of the same size overlapping in the center of the page. Inside each circle was a simple symbol - a small, straight vertical line. Inside the overlapping section was that same symbol - twice.

*******

“I don’t see anything to worry about,” Dr. Jones-Baker told Marcella, “Jaime is a healthy, vibrant young boy with a well-developed imagination. He will move out of this phase as he makes new - real - friends in school. I’m positive.”

Marcella had found Dr. Jones-Baker, a local child psychologist, online and made an appointment for her and Jaime to speak at the doctor’s office. Marcella explained the Harmony issue in an email and even attached a photo of the drawing with the overlapping circles.

“He just handed me this and said Harmony told him to draw it,” she wrote, “I’m really starting to get worried about my son.”

The doctor spoke first, at length, with Jaime while Marcella waited anxiously. She fiddled with the drawing in her hands - folding and unfolding it over and over. Her thoughts wavered between a certainty that the symbols were simply a product of a bright child’s mind and the worry that there was something seriously wrong with her son.

She was sure Dr. Jones-Baker saw this flip-flopping between terror and affirmation in her eyes when she opened the door to her office. “Mom, everything’s fine,” she said with a genuine smile, “you can come on back now.”

The doctor’s assurances that Jaime’s behavior was normal did little to quell Marcella’s angst. When she showed Dr. Jones-Baker the drawing, though, she did notice a bit of a reaction, indicating that, perhaps, the doctor had not thoroughly read her initial email.

“Hmm. This looks like a Venn Diagram, but I think it’s most likely just two circles,” the doctor said, “And the symbols are just straight lines. I don’t think they have any meaning. This could be a picture of a flower, or maybe a face, or, well, it could be anything really. He’s five, you know? A Venn Diagram is too advanced for him to understand, though.”

“But he’s a smart kid,” the doctor said an unnerving second later.

Of course Jaime is smart, Marcella thought, but is he troubled?

She couldn’t make sense of Harmony and she just wanted to know, more than anything else, that her son was normal. And safe.

*******

“Mommy! Come say hello to Harmony! She’s in here!”

Jaime was so thrilled to fill Harmony in about his day at the psychologist, that he nearly tripped over his own feet running to his bedroom. His shout came almost instantly - an excited plea to introduce his friend to his mother. She could hear the elation in his voice. Jaime was positive that Harmony was physically present and his mother was about to see the proof.

Marcella was rattled. Her heart pumped faster and her body trembled with the fear of a parent whose child is in imminent danger. Something inside my son is not well. He is not safe.

I have to save my son, she thought through the red fog of adrenaline that carried her on numb wisps of air toward her Jaime. She burst into his bedroom and saw him there - standing in the rightmost of two interlocking circles that had bulged through the floor, but under the carpet. The left circle and the overlapping space in the center were empty. She dropped her purse to the floor and stood in confused horror.

“Harmony, you look taller! Oh! Mommy, say hi!”

*******

Marcella broke.

She fell to one knee in the doorway, her eyes focused alternately on her son, the circles, and the empty space. She pulled at her hair and scratched at her scalp as she repeated the pattern. Son. Circles. Space. Son. Circles. Space. Son Circles Space SonCirclesSpace

“THERE’S NOBODY THERE JAIME!” she shouted across the entirety of existence.

“HARMONY ISN’T REAL! SHE’S IN YOUR HEAD!”

She’s in his HEAD She’s in his HEAD She’s in his HEAD She’s in his HEAD

I have to get her out of his head.

“Mommy? Are you OK? Did Harmony upset you? She says she’s sorry,” Jaime said with concern as his mother stumbled toward the kitchen. “Mommy? Where are you going?”

I have to get her out of his head. I have to GET her out of his HEAD.

“The drawing in her purse? Are you sure?” [pause]

They’re in the top drawer I have to

“Like this?” [pause]

They’re in this cabinet GET her out

“Now?” [pause]

They’re in the closet of his HEAD

“OK, Let’s go!” [pause]

Marcella careened into the room, scissors brandished - ready and willing to excise whatever demon had invaded her child’s brain.

But Jaime, her son, was gone. So were the circles. All that remained was space. SonCirclesSpace

And the drawing on the floor. Jaime had hastily edited the original before he left. All of the vertical lines were scribbled over - except two in the left circle.

*******

The room laid dormant for a time - five years, maybe ten. Nobody keeps the records of a space, the world just moves on it as dust gathers. Superstition lingered about the house after Marcella left it. The air itself felt dense, almost humid. Not stifling, but oppressive enough to make the occasional adventurous teenager seeking a night of purposeful fright to lose her courage.

The home renovation business partners from out of town must have felt it too. They walked away from their investment after traveling to see the house they had purchased just one time. The deal was too good to reject - until it wasn’t.

The young couple stayed much longer. The woman with a bump on her belly suffused with life. The boyfriend determined to create a space in which his burgeoning family would grow. The room, no longer dormant, but replete with tools and paint and things - signs of rebirth.

They unearthed treasures that they did not understand. Two interlocking circles, burned into the hardwood under the carpet. In the circles were pictures of a life lived - a couple growing old together - with notes on the back of each.

Harmony and Jaime - 5th Anniversary! I miss you, Mom! - J

Harmony, Jaime, and baby Marcella - 2 months old. She looks like her Grandma. I love you! - J

A boy of about 16 sitting with a girl about 2 years older than him. Mom - I’m so sorry I left. I think about that day every second of my life. She thought she was helping me at that moment. And she couldn’t bring me back. Her dad tried for years, but gave up when he finally saw how content we were, together. They had been here the whole time but couldn’t see us either. It was just us - me and Harmony - in that space where our worlds overlap. Her dad tried to contact you with the drawings - but Harmony was just a kid - not a great messenger. I remember that the doctor didn’t understand them either. Really, it’s not your fault. I love you and miss you, mom. - J

Four people dressed in black. Harmony, Marcella, Nestor, and grandbaby Stephen (18 mos.) I can never thank you enough for sharing your son with me, Marcella. He left us this week, and I can’t believe he’s actually gone. I miss him more every minute than I did the last. I know you do too. You were always his mother. - Harmony