It started with a pact. In the event that I died, it would be my best friend, Molly’s, job to delete some specified computer files of mine and clear the history of my web browser. No looking, no snooping, no questions asked. You’d think that even though Molly and I have been friends for over ten years that we wouldn’t have to hide secrets from each other. But the truth is, there are some secrets that you don’t think even your closest friend should know. Still, how she found out was completely circumstantial.

I think what makes Molly so special is that she gets me. She gets that I am easily frustrated over the stupid little things people do. She gets my humor and reciprocates it without skipping a beat. And even though I was so afraid of what she would say if she ever found out about that little something about me, she gets my secret. But perhaps I should backtrack a bit.

I first met Molly in eighth grade. She forgot to bring a pen to class, so I offered her one. What was meant to be merely a kind gesture led to the beginning of an extraordinary friendship. We started eating lunch together, hanging out after school, and all of the other simple things in life we seem to take for granted these days.

By the time senior year arrived, Molly and I would talk until all hours of the night about our goals, our fears, and what we’d do when we went away to college. We shared everything with each other…well, almost everything. You see, there was one thing I never mentioned to Molly: I was (and still am) an infantilist. It was one of those things that I’d thought about telling her since we started sharing more intimate details with each other, but the words could never leave my tongue. It’s not that I was afraid that she’d stop being my best friend. I was just afraid she’d look at me differently. A few times I’d make subtle hints about it to see how she’d react. I remember the Halloween of sophomore year I’d joked and told Molly I was thinking about going as a baby.

“Luke, I think that’d be hilarious, adorable, and awkward all at the same time! I could almost picture you wearing a huge diaper!” was her reaction.

I laughed it off and told her I was kidding, although my brain desperately tried getting me to tell her the truth. Still, I felt it was for the best that she not know about it.

It seemed that with each passing week, we found ourselves sharing a little more about ourselves with each other; bad past experiences, issues with our families or people we liked…the list goes on. It got to the point where we even started talking about sex and our likes and dislikes on the subject. Again, it’d have been a good opportunity for me to share with her my little secret, but to no avail. However, one particular December night, Molly and I got onto a bit of a morbid topic: death. It wasn’t an upsetting talk. To be honest, it was rather interesting and deep.

We’d been sitting on an abandoned railroad bridge, watching the sun slowly set. It was chilly, but not to the point where we wanted to head home. The sky was clear, and we threw stones into the creek a few yards away.

“Molly, this is going to sound random, but have you ever thought about what it would be like if you died?” I asked.

“What?” she chuckled, “Where did that come from?”

“Not really sure. Just thinking, I guess.”

“Well, to be honest, Luke, I do think about it sometimes. I’d be pretty pissed if I died now. I haven’t even been in a legit, serious relationship yet!”

We both laughed a bit, but quickly got back on topic.

“But in all seriousness,” Molly continued, “I guess I wonder what people in my life would do without me around, if that makes any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.” I paused for a moment. “I guess I’m just curious to know if we can still feel what we feel now as humans.”

“How do you mean?”

“I guess-I guess I’m just wondering like if you had something here, on this Earth, about yourself that you didn’t want anyone to know about, but then they found out about if after you died, if you’d care in the afterlife.”

Molly looked at me with concern in her deep blue eyes.

“Well this has certainly gotten interesting. What are you afraid of people finding out about you? You seem awfully fine to me!” she smiled.

“And in most respects, I am,” I looked toward the sky, “but…oh, how do I put this? There is something about me that I’ve never really told anyone about before.”

“What? Really?” Molly asked.

“Yeah.”

“You’re joking,” she laughed, “I’ve known you forever, Luke!”

“I’m serious, Molly!” I frowned a bit.

“And you never wanted to talk about it before?”

“I don’t even really want to talk about it now. Someday I promise I will tell you. I’m just not ready yet.”

There was the slightest moment of silence, and I could tell by the look on Molly’s face that she was taken by surprise. But that look of surprise quickly turned into a smile.

“Luke Thompson, you’ve officially become a walking mystery. But, you’re my best friend, and I understand completely if you’re iffy about telling me whatever it is that’s bothering you. And I promise, right here, may God strike me by lightning, that no matter what it is, I’ll always be your best friend.”

Molly came in close and gave me a reassuring hug.

“Thanks, Molly.”

“Any time! You know I’m here for you!”

“Which leads me to my next question.”

“Oh, God…you’re not going to ask me to have sex with you, are you?” she jokingly nudged my stomach.

I was quick to one-up her joke in the lousiest British accent I could muster. “Oh yes, Molly! I have this sudden urge to make love to you! Please grant me this one wish and warm my soul on this frigid December night!”

We both howled with laugher, just as we always seemed to do when we were being ridiculous. Once the laughter subsided, Molly asked, “But what was it you wanted to ask me?”

I swallowed hard, knowing this wouldn’t be easy to explain.

“Are you familiar with the idea of, ‘when a person dies, their best friend’s first job should be to clear their browsing history’?”

“I don’t think that that’s the exact phrase, but I’m familiar with it. Why do you ask?”

“This might sound weird, but I’d like to give you that job if anything happens to me.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and Molly looked at me strangely.

“Ohhhh, don’t want anyone to see your porn, Luke?” she snickered.

“Something like that. But seriously, I want you to swear to me right here, right now, that you will do that for me. And that you won’t look at anything before you do it.”

“What are you, a secret agent or something? Jeez!”

“Molly, please promise me. You’re my best friend and I trust you enough for you to do that for me.”

“But you don’t trust me enough to tell me what it is you’re hiding?”

“It’s-it’s not like that! I promise you I will tell you someday soon. You’ll be the first to know. I’ll make it my New Year’s resolution.”

Molly gave me a look of uncertainty with a smile on her face, then nodded her head and said, “I promise. But! You’re not allowed to die anytime soon, you hear me?”

I smiled and nodded. “Please. Me? Die soon? I’ve got way too much stuff to do before I’m outta here! But thank you.”

We sealed the deal with another hug, and eventually made our way back home. I saw Molly to her house, and just before she headed up her driveway, she looked at me with her brilliantly blue eyes and said, “You know, I meant what I said earlier, Luke. I won’t think any differently of you whenever you decide to tell me this big secret of yours. I mean, unless of course you’re a murderer or something like that.”

That’s the thing about Molly: she genuinely cares about me, but always uses humor to keep herself from sounding sappy.

“It isn’t anything like that, I promise,” I laughed, “but thank you.”

Molly nodded and waved, then slowly walked towards the back door of her house. I sighed in frustration and made my way back home. Despite every moment where I thought I had built up enough courage to tell Molly, I simply couldn’t. She told me to trust her, and yet something stopped me. Perhaps it was because I knew I’d have to see her every day, meaning that if for some reason she reacted poorly, it wouldn’t be the same between us. Still, I knew the time to tell her would come. Or at least I thought I did.

* * *

I got one of the worst phone calls in my life on Christmas Eve: Luke was in a terrible car accident. He was alive, but in critical condition. He had told me that he needed to buy one last gift to complete his list, and even though he hated shopping so close to Christmas, he went for it anyway. Now I’m a pretty relaxed girl, but all I could think of was Luke, all bloody and hanging on for dear life in what was probably his mangled jeep.

I threw on my heavy winter coat and raced to the hospital. I remember I cried a lot on the way there, as I was afraid that Luke would leave before I got a chance to see him. All of the “what ifs” that entered my mind ended in pessimistic thoughts.

“Damn it! You just had to go out today, didn’t you?” I yelled, as if Luke were right next to me.

I practically flew into the hospital parking lot and parked my car in a handicap space. Just before leaving my car, I checked myself in the mirror. My hair looked good, my make-up wasn’t too runny despite my tears, and my pouty lips weren’t smudged. He couldn’t see me any other way; I didn’t want the last image he had of me being one where I was crying or upset.

I ran into the lobby and quickly yelled to the receptionist, “Luke Thompson! Where is he?!”

“Room 6. And who are you?” the receptionist asked in a snooty voice.

“I’m his girlfriend!” I lied.

Without acknowledging my response, she hit a button on her desk, and the door leading to the Emergency Room took its painfully sweet time opening up. I bolted down the hallway until I saw Mr. and Mrs. Thompson outside of room 6.

“Molly!” Mrs. Thompson cried and embraced me.

“Where’s Luke? What happened?”

“Some jackass ran a red light and t-boned Luke! Jesus! People drive like such friggin’ asswipes during the Holidays!” Mr. Thompson snarled as he paced back and forth.

“C-can I see him?”

“They’re about to transport him to the other hospital…”

I made my way into the room, and saw before me what was supposed to be Luke. The left side of his face was all black and blue, and his left arm was all bandaged up. His green eyes shifted around wildly.

“Luke!” I yelled as I walked over to his side.

“Excuse me, Miss, but we need to get him out of here.” One of the nurses said.

“Fuck you! I need to see him! Luke!”

“M-Molly…great way to celebrate Christmas, eh?”

The sound of his voice told me he wasn’t doing so well, and I couldn’t help but tear up. Even in this horrible situation, Luke kept his sense of humor. His heart rate monitor beeped at an alarmingly fast rate.

“You’ll be out of here in no time! And don’t you dare think about leaving just yet! You still have to open the gifts I bought you.” I lightly chuckled in an attempt to drown out my despair.

“Miss, we need to-“

“-wait,” Luke said, cutting the nurse off.

He motioned for me to come close to him and struggled to bring his head up toward my ear.

“Remember our promise?” he asked weakly.

“Luke, no. Don’t do this to me.” I sobbed, knowing what he was implying.

“I-I don’t know if I’ll get out of this one, Molly…please, just do what you promised you would…just in case.”

I gasped and covered my mouth with my hands; I knew he was leaving me.

“Luke, I can’t…you can’t do this!”

That promise. That damned promise. Had we never had that conversation, then perhaps Luke wouldn’t have been in the hospital. Perhaps he would’ve used that evening we spent buying the Christmas gift, thus avoiding the car accident altogether.

“Please…promise me.”

I wept uncontrollably as I said, “I promise.” And in an instant, the nurses rushed Luke out of the room.

I remember Mr. and Mrs. Thompson hugging and crying with me, although I don’t remember for how long. Time seems almost nonexistent in that type of situation. All I could think of, all I could worry about, all I could pray for was Luke and that promise.