Teddy

 By Sawyer J. R.

His eyes flicked open, counting back from ten while gazing into a blinding light mere seconds before, now surrounded in a dimly lit place. The only light came from a few feet ahead of him through a set of double doors. Pink in color, with horizontal slants that allowed him to barely sneak a peek through the other side. He made an attempt to look at his surroundings, coming to find that he could not move his head, his arms, nor his feet. From where he lay, he could easily see the toys strewn about this tiny room he was trapped in. The doors swung open and at his feet stood a young girl, maybe five years old at most, gazing down at him with a smile that only a child could have.

"I'm Sarah. Who are you supposed to be?"

            To no surprise, he could not speak. Nor could he remember his own name. Anxiety began to swell in the back of his mind. Thinking to himself, “Why can’t I remember? Where the fuck am I?! This cannot be real—”

            “Oh no! Teddy can't remember? I have just the thing!” Sarah said.

            The word Teddy sent more waves of disorientation through his mind. It was at that moment that he began to panic within. She scooped him up with ease and bolted with the speed of a bullet, going to a well-kept table and bright red pillows on either side. She set him down and posing him in an upright position, giving the perfect view of this child’s room. Only then, did she sit opposite of him. Seeming to pull a full set of China out of thin air, she placed it on the table. It’s far too small for practical use but seemed perfect for someone as small as the child across from him. She set one of the cups in front of him and poured a hot cup of bright red fluid from the empty pot.

            “I hear a hot cup of tea is great for a hurt head and a hurt soul. Go ahead, you drink first! Where are you from, how old are you, why were you in my closet, why does your face look funny, do you like my tea?”

            He barely had time to process, as she started projectile vomiting questions at him. The curiosity of this child made something click. He knew her, he didn’t know how, but he knew her. A memory manifested itself: he was sitting in this exact spot, legs crisscrossed on top of this pillow. Sarah and him were laughing. He glanced over to the nearby mirror, his thick head of hair, his thin happy smile, and he was much taller than he was now. The memory faded before his very eyes and all that he saw now was a teddy bear sitting across from this six year old, repair patches attached to his chest and face. The right button making up his eyeball was held on by only a couple of loose threads. All this happened while she continued to bombard him with questions.

             Immediately after she stopped speaking, he felt a soft tingle in his chest and face, his anxiety began to subside a bit as he got at least a bit comfortable in his situation. The cup in front of him emptied before his very eyes, and a pleasant taste coated his tongue as though he had drank from the cup. 

            “Sarah, thank you. I really needed that. I seem to have just appeared here. I don’t remember much. However, I know for a fact that I remember you, and that I've been here before,” he thought calmly.

            “Of course, you know me, silly. You are Teddy. Daddy brought you home a while ago. Been here ever since,” she said with a cheery grin.

The sea of stress in his brain calmed down. He now managed to be able to look around the room. Looking down at his hands, not hands, but nubs covered in felt with paw pad patches stitched to the ends. She poured him a cup of orange. Something felt off after drinking whatever that was. It left a numbing warmth in his chest. Despite feeling a bit off about the whole situation, he was comfortable. She stared at him, breathing through her mouth like a goblinoid creature. Happiness spread over her rosy cheeks. He couldn't help but chuckle.
            “Where are your parents?”

            “Momma is downstairs on the couch. She seems sad all the time now that dad isn’t home much anymore. Daddy hasn't been home in a long time. Mommy says he will come home soon. He’s just been sleeping all the time. It's weird cuz he isn't in bed ever. He hasn’t even been home!” she said.

            “Well, I'm sure he will come back. If your momma says so, you should trust her. She wouldn't have stuck around if she would have known your pops was gonna walk away from you two.”

He was finally able to move his plushy arms, reaching out to awkwardly grab the cup with both paws. Politely playing along, he bringing the cup to his muzzle. The orange drink disappeared into his lipless maw.
            “Dad hasn't been himself lately. I heard auntie say he's got a cancer in his head, which means there's a chance daddy’s brain might get eaten. But it's okay, though. Daddy is strong. He's beaten worse before,” she said.

            He set the cup back on the table, and she poured a cup of yellow. He sat there, completely calm, this whole situation was a dream, afterall, and he would wake soon. He took the drink up, and just sat there quietly with the young child. He let her ramble on about whatever she wanted, not a care in the world. As his cup emptied, she replaced it with a different color each time. The pot was totally empty when she poured the last drink, a violet drink, out of the pot. He heard the soft clack of heels come from behind the bedroom door, the door handle turned, and the door creaked open.

            “Sarah?”

A young woman entered the room, dressed in a peach blouse and tan pants. Something seemed off about her. She was smiling, but her composure was held back. She stepped forward and knelt beside the little girl before speaking in a calm tone. “Honey, we need to go see daddy. Grab your bear, and let's go.”

Without missing a beat, the child leapt up, happy to go see her father again. It was in this moment that something deep in the back of his mind clicked and crept forward into his forethought. Without a moment to think, all of them hurried down a set of stairs and into a bright red car. The man was dumbfounded, stress starting to overtake his mind again. He found himself unable to move his head, arms, nor legs all over again. His chest felt tight as the girl clung to him in the car ride.

Two questions cross his mind in this instance of shock? “Who were these people?” and “Why does everything seem so familiar?” He racked his brain so hard his head began to spin until another memory appeared: He was in the driver’s seat, a long stretch of road ahead of him. To his right, the woman was there. Sam. His heart filled with warmth looking at her, the sound of a small child giggling in the backseat.

The sound of Sarah humming snapped him free of his vision. They were now outside of a giant hospital. From his point of view, within the arms of a young girl, the building felt even bigger, daunting even, as they exited the car and approached the hospital. The surrounding air that should have been noisy from the wind, the sounds of people passing in and out of the building, and the sirens blaring off in the distance, but it was deathly quiet.

He tried so hard to move, but he couldn't. Not because the girl was clinging and carrying him so tight, but because he just simply couldn't, no matter how hard he tried. He refocused himself to stay calm. He was fairly certain that all his questions were about to be answered, if not already answered. He couldn't bear to believe that he actually knew these people. For this was all a dream, wasn't it? He couldn’t help but notice how numb his body felt. The only warmth he felt came from the child carrying him.

In his distraction they had already climbed in and out of an elevator. The air surrounding them was noisy with the ring of silence. He was only able to hear the tiny heartbeat of little Sarah who didn’t understand. They made it to a room at the end of a hallway. The air felt clean to breathe, but very heavy the closer they got to the door and even more so when they got inside.

Sarah's mom nearly broke upon walking in, and he was the only one that could see it. Once the doorway was behind the little girl, she turned and propped him up in a chair overlooking a sad sight. There was a man in the bed, and upon closer inspection, the bear realized something sickening.

“That’s me? No, that c-can't be right,” he thought.

 The child ran to the bed to grasp onto her father’s hand, holding it to her chest with a smile before bringing it up to her lips to lay a quick peck on it.

“Daddy, I know you might be sleeping, but I hope you’re coming home soon. Mommy misses you. I miss you, too. I want to go back to doing teatime with you. I want to go to the park with you, and play, and read bedtime stories. Nobody reads like you do.”

It was then a warm hand grabbed onto the bear from behind and carried him over to the young girl who hugged him with one arm. Her mom was now at their side, hugging onto both of them tightly. He couldn’t help but feel the pain in his chest. He yearned to just wake up, he yearned to hug them both and tell them that everything was going to be fine. Then the silence was pierced by an ear-tearing beep. Her mom scooped them both up, clinging Sarah tightly to her chest. The bear wedged between the two of them. As Sarah began to cry, he managed to move his plush arms around her as best as he could.

“Don’t cry. I’m right here. I'm still here, Sarah.”

 

About the Author
Sawyer J.R. is an amateur writer. He is 25 and was born in Texas. He first studied the culinary arts here at ICC before falling out and reigniting his passion for writing. He specializes in vivid description within a fictional setting, testing the boundaries within the mundane. Currently, he is working on a private project, “The Pocketbook of Depression.”