“Joey! Come help me with the groceries please!” Joey’s mom called through the garage door.

“Aw, do I have to?”

“Yes sweetie. You can ask John to help too if you like.”

Well that was my cue. I’d been sitting on the couch with Joey all day watching Garfield. We got off the couch so Joey could help his mother and we walked outside to the car. Joey opened the side door and began grabbing bags. I just stood beside him. I couldn’t really help with the groceries, but I was Joey’s motivator. I mean, what else are imaginary friends for? I was there when he did his chores, when he had to go to bed, get a shot, you name it. But sometimes being an imaginary friend wasn’t all that fun.

All of a sudden, Joey dropped a carton of milk, which busted open and spilled all over the driveway.

“Joey!” His mom rushed over. “You’ve gotta be more careful! Now I have to go get another jug.”

“But it wasn’t me! It was John!” And there he went, blaming me again. I got blamed for everything. The broken vase, the hole in the wall, any trouble Joey ever got into, he somehow managed to involve me. At first his mom was a little lenient about it, but as the list of blames grew longer, she wanted to convince Joey that I wasn’t real. Which would’ve been fine anyway because I could get assigned to another child who might like me for a real friend.

“Joey dear, you can’t go blaming your own mistakes on anything or anyone else, real or imaginary. Sometimes you have to own up, be mature, because one day, John won’t be there to take the blame. Do you understand?”

“Yes mom.” Joey then turned to me. “I’m sorry John. I won’t blame you for my mistakes anymore.”

“I know you won’t,” I replied. But no one would ever hear those words.