Jan and the Hippopotamus

At first it was the stares and then the cocking of heads, kind of like dogs who don’t understand what they’re looking at.

Jan was certain that when other kids had imaginary friends, they had someone to play games with or blame when their mom asks why there are so few cookies left. They didn’t have anything like him.

Gerald was huge and loud and smelly! And it all worked backwards; you were supposed to blame things on your imaginary friend, not get blamed for stuff they did. It didn’t make sense.

The worst part was that she didn’t even know how to tell people what he was. A Hittotopamus? No, she didn’t think so. Hiphopeponymous? Even she knew that was wrong. She knew he was big, and that whenever he came around things got broken or knocked over. She also knew that Gerald always disappeared when the adults were looking for someone to yell at.

Yes, she had been running through the house, and yes she came around that corner pretty fast, but Gerald had knocked over those wineglasses chasing her!

That boy at school, Aiden, his model had gotten smooshed. This was true, but Gerald had been running over to say hi, he didn’t mean to. Aiden might have taken her favorite crayon and called her names she would have been swatted for saying out loud at home; but what did that have to do with anything? It was a stupid model anyway.

This time she had had enough. She had been told to stay away from the coffee table and she did … mostly. Maybe she looked for just a minute, but that was it, she swore!

She told him to stay away, but he wanted to see too. Next thing she knew the cup was rattling on the hardwood floor and all the papers were much more brown than they used to be. She tried to run, but it was too late. Her mom and dad caught her; she had ruined something very important they said. Why couldn’t she listen? She started to cry; it was so unfair! Jan wasn’t going to take the blame anymore.

“It was Gerald!” She managed to force out between sobs.

“Who is Gerald?” They asked.

“Gerald the hiptotopamus; he breaks everything!” Her voice had raised to steady keening.

The stares began, first at her and then at one another. Their heads tilted in that way she knew meant they thought she was fibbing. She started crying harder, her nose running and just making a spectacle in general.

“He’s real! That’s why stuff gets broke all the time!”

“Honey, we’d know if a hippopotamus was in the house. They aren’t sneaky creatures. You shouldn’t blame things you did on a make-believe animal.”

“He’s not make-believe!” Wild-eyed, her voice became very shrill. “He’s around all the time; I can’t help it if he breaks things!”

“I think it’s time you went to bed sweetheart. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

Of course they didn’t believe her. She cried into her mother’s shoulder; sobs finally subsiding, she looked back as she was carried upstairs. Right there! A giant footprint in the coffee; didn’t they see it?

Of course they didn’t, adults never see anything.