Invisible Doppleganger
Psychologists believe that children develop imaginary friends as a result of social intelligence. When I was little I had an imaginary friend. She had red hair and wore a green dress with pink lace at the neck, her name was Violet. Violet didn’t speak, she was just always with me. She often sat at the edge of my bed, or stood behind me when I looked in the mirror, always watching. When I grew older, maybe around thirteen, I stopped seeing her. She didn’t sit at the edge of my bed anymore, or stand behind me when I looked in the mirror, she didn't stare while I played with my dolls. I had just outgrown my imaginary friend like most kids do, and I was glad she was gone.
Years passed, I fell in love and I had my own child, she was born on August tenth. Her name is Anna. When Anna was born she didn’t cry, the nurses in the hospital had to hold her under a lamp and gently pinch her. That happens to some babies, they don’t cry when they’re born.
When Anna grew, her hair turned a brilliant red, freckles spotted all over her face, and she was very very quiet. I thought it was strange that she was a redhead because neither my husband nor I had red hair, my mother in law told me that her brother was a redhead, so I wrote it off. When she was at the age to go to school we brought her to the doctor, who referred us to a speech pathologist, who concluded that she was just shy. She wasn’t mute and didn't have any developmental delays, she was just quiet.
A week before Anna's seventh birthday, she sat on the sidewalk drawing with chalk. She drew a picture of a red haired girl in a green dress with pink lace around the neck. The dress looked familiar. I just couldn’t place where I knew it from, but Anna kept drawing herself in this green dress. She painted it, sketched it in crayon and pencil. I questioned her about this drawing, but when I asked she always just looked up at me, silent as usual.
I couldn’t shake the feeling I was missing something. I stayed clueless until my questioning became more and more adamant, and as her drawings became more frequent. “Anna, who is this drawing of?” I would ask, and she never responded. Until the day of her birthday when I was setting the table for dinner. I set three places; one for my husband, one for me, and one for Anna. As I went to go back into the kitchen she spoke up, “You forgot a plate!”, “I forgot a plate? For who?” I said, “You forgot a plate for Violet!” I had finally figured it out, Anna's red hair, Anna's silence, Anna's drawings, it all made sense.
Years passed, I fell in love and I had my own child, she was born on August tenth. Her name is Anna. When Anna was born she didn’t cry, the nurses in the hospital had to hold her under a lamp and gently pinch her. That happens to some babies, they don’t cry when they’re born.
When Anna grew, her hair turned a brilliant red, freckles spotted all over her face, and she was very very quiet. I thought it was strange that she was a redhead because neither my husband nor I had red hair, my mother in law told me that her brother was a redhead, so I wrote it off. When she was at the age to go to school we brought her to the doctor, who referred us to a speech pathologist, who concluded that she was just shy. She wasn’t mute and didn't have any developmental delays, she was just quiet.
A week before Anna's seventh birthday, she sat on the sidewalk drawing with chalk. She drew a picture of a red haired girl in a green dress with pink lace around the neck. The dress looked familiar. I just couldn’t place where I knew it from, but Anna kept drawing herself in this green dress. She painted it, sketched it in crayon and pencil. I questioned her about this drawing, but when I asked she always just looked up at me, silent as usual.
I couldn’t shake the feeling I was missing something. I stayed clueless until my questioning became more and more adamant, and as her drawings became more frequent. “Anna, who is this drawing of?” I would ask, and she never responded. Until the day of her birthday when I was setting the table for dinner. I set three places; one for my husband, one for me, and one for Anna. As I went to go back into the kitchen she spoke up, “You forgot a plate!”, “I forgot a plate? For who?” I said, “You forgot a plate for Violet!” I had finally figured it out, Anna's red hair, Anna's silence, Anna's drawings, it all made sense.