Sweet and Sour Monotony

I’ve never been one to grow tired of routine nor monotony… I’ve always embraced the comfort of knowing what I was in store for. Others may view those same things as stale and boring. But I’d beg others to look inward when they feel that. I’d beg them to decipher if something was boring or if they were worried they were just missing out on some unknown mystery out there in the world. I’d beg them to not make rash decisions and to truly examine the situation. I’d beg them… if I had a working mouth.

But this thing was stuck on “closed mouth smile” for eternity. However, this current situation that I found myself in… I had examined it… and it was indeed stale and boring. Thank goodness for that earthquake last month! I actually got spun around under the bed and got to see a different angle of the bedroom. I was able to gaze at Abigail’s dresser instead of her TV stand. I could see the clothing she dropped on the floor. And now I could see that thing that I had been smelling for the past year and a half. That crusty piece of toast, inches from my black ear. My white ear was pressed to the hardwood floor, staying vigilant for the return of Abigail after each time she vacated the room.

I’d see her bare feet slide off the side of the bed from above and before exiting the room, I’d see them slip into those cozy slippers that looked remarkably similar to me. It made sense, I believe they were retrieved by the same man who retrieved me. The man who retrieved me at the start of my life and brought me to Abigail’s room… years ago. Was he a man or was he a boy? He was a male human… I remember that much.

My white ear heard thumping… louder… Abigail was approaching! She was walking loudly! With such force! The bed above me cast a heavy shadow over me, but the room was drenched in warm, orange, afternoon sun. I gazed at the open doorway, and in entered Abigail’s brown boots, her navy-jean-clad-legs jutted up from the top of her boots. I couldn’t see the rest of her, but I knew she was up there. Following behind her with the obedience of a fellow dog, another pair of shoes silently entered, ratty grayish-white sneakers that might’ve been older than me. Faded jeans extending up from the top of those hushed puppies… and I knew the man was up there. Not the man who retrieved me. A man who came along afterwards.

They talked for a bit. They watched TV and sat on the bed above me, the springs creaking and the mattress sinking above, giving me an acute sense of claustrophobia. Oh yeah, us stuffed dogs get claustrophobia at times too! I concentrated on if I had the ability to breathe, and how I would do it. Pretending I was breathing in slowly… pretending I was exhaling slowly. Repeating. Or… pretending to repeat. Once again. Finally, my non-existent heart stopped pretend-beating. My lack of veins were no longer faux-swelled. My whole nervous system which not only never existed but was never even an inkling in the mind of my creator… yes, that nervous system… relaxed.

I peered back out from under the bed. I couldn’t see Abigail’s feet but I could see the ratty sneakers of the man, just barely past the large box to my right that blocked much of my field of view. After a bit, they opened some drawers up, removed some items, and left.

And I was alone under the bed again. It had been a while down here. A while without feeling Abigail’s sweet embrace. Don’t get me wrong, I understand what our relationship was. I never thought I had a chance with her. Nor did I want one. Our relationship was love, but a different kind. Akin to a sibling or parent or some close family member. She’d tell me secrets… or at least say them aloud in a hushed tone… getting ideas out of her mind and into the air… and I happened to be there. But often she’d finish her secrets or thoughts with, “Right, Clyde?” or “You know, Clyde?” I always tried my best to nod, but that was too tall a task for my stuffed spine. The way Abigail looked at my plastic eyes when she said it, and the look I attempted to give back to her, it always felt like she saw me, like she knew I was listening and understanding.

Our relationship was fantastic. She’d hug me before going to sleep, she’d keep me close by on the bed, we often laid arm in arm. The contact always made me feel alive… more alive than I already was… however much that was. Sometimes she’d stroke my fur or my ears. And her bed was so big and nice and comfy and smelled clean! Oh, and our other friends up there too!

Teddy, Jammy, Sara, Ray-Ray, Brunkers, and Lila.

Oh, Lila.

She was the one who I had a chance with. A curvy purple elephant who had the most perfect periwinkle-painted pupils this pup ever put his paws on. Sometimes Abigail even put us close together and our lips would touch for extended periods of time. I think Lila liked it as much as I did. I mean, she never pulled away.

Now, before you say anything, you, faceless entity who I narrate to, yes you, one, I get it, she couldn’t pull away. Two, I never thought something would happen in the terms humans do, with the parts between the legs and all that. We didn’t have those. But what we did have were bodies that felt and wanted and the physical touch and connection was big. I loved being with Abigail, and with everyone else, we were one big, happy family up there on the bed. Eating popcorn, watching movies, sleepovers every night. We kept Abigail company while she worked on her computer or read books. She’d talk to us about boys, they came and went, she aged, she talked to us about men, they came and went. She complained how she never found one who was nice enough. She wondered aloud if she had ever even met a nice boy since she was in middle school. We saw most of them come by, even if sparingly, and we agreed, none of them were good enough for Abigail. None recently, anyway. Inevitably, she’d leave for large portions of the day, and we had each other, us Stuffies. And the days where I was placed next to Lila, while we all waited for Abigail to return, those were the best days.

But then I fell through the crack between the bed and the wall and got stuck down here. I heard Abigail complain about my whereabouts, she moped, dare I say, I believe she even shed a tear. But she didn’t find me… and she eventually forgot about me.

It was cold down here. It was lonely. All my friends were right above me, nothing but a thick queen mattress separated us. Yet their lives were full and comfy on the maroon bedspread and mine was meaningless on the cold wooden floor, cursed to smell a stale piece of toast for all eternity.

And to see those ratty shoes over and over. Would it kill this guy to dress up once in a while? It had been a couple days but they had returned. And this guy still wore those crummy shoes. I only ever saw him wear his nice, black shoes a few times. The first time he came over, the second time he came over, and one night when he arrived and asked if Abigail “was ready for a big, fancy date.” She was excited about the date and was equally as excited when they returned. Ratty Shoes spent the night and the mattress above me gave me plenty of repeated bouts of claustrophobia. Try sleeping through the night when the ceiling looks like it's repeatedly caving in on you.

And tonight was another night just like that. Ratty Shoes stayed over and the ceiling to my new apartment threatened to collapse on me over and over. Granted, the last time it was happening for around 40 minutes. This time, luckily, it was less than 10.

Ratty Shoes left very early in the morning. Thank goodness. Those dogs were barking. He needed deodorant for his footwear. It was bad. It made me long for the stale toast, and I refreshed my nostrils with the scent of stiff wheat as soon as Ratty Shoes left.

We didn’t see Ratty Shoes for several days. Abigail sounded quite annoyed and displeased over those next few days. He finally returned, his voice dripped with attitude, and his shoes stunk too. He didn’t stay long and he left. Good.

But not good for Abigail. It actually made her cry. Poor girl. I wish I could go up there and give her a hug and comfort her. We didn’t see Ratty Shoes for several days. I heard several phone conversations that Abigail had with him on the other end. He kept saying he was busy but he’d come by as soon as he could. Finally, a week later, he arrived… wearing his nice, black shoes. He told Abigail he was going to hang out with his friends so he couldn’t stay long. She sounded upset but he told her not to be. He left.

I wanted to scream out to Abigail.

No! You need to end it with him! Did you see his shoes?! He never wears good shoes unless he thinks something is in it for him to wear good shoes! He is… quite literally… stepping out on you! Why else would he wear the nice shoes?!

I tried to rip my lips open and shout these words. With every fiber of my being I convulsed and shook from within. Until I did it… one of my legs shot out at the hip, I spun around, and kicked the stale piece of toast. It flew out from under the bed and smacked into Abigail’s foot.

“Huh?” She bent down to pick it up.

Abigail peered under the bed, used the light on her phone, searched around, and then managed to find me!

“Clyde! There you are!”

She fished me out and brushed all the dust off my fur. I even got the lint roller treatment… which all Stuffies know was divine. She stared into my eyes. I stared into hers. I did my best to convey the message to her through my look. I had apparently run out of the ability to kick and move… but I maintained my ability to stare. I told her… with my stare… she needed to call Ratty Shoes and end it.

She nodded. “Yes. You need some spray to make you smell better. Let’s go, Clyde.”

Ugh. Not what she was supposed to decipher from my eyes. Oh well, she was taking me on a trip. Time together. I was happy.

Abigail put me in the front seat of her wheelie vehicle. It had been a while since I was in one of these. We went to a store… it appeared to be near my birthplace. She left me in the vehicle. The window wasn’t cracked, but hey, I wasn’t one to complain. This was quality time. She returned with a blue bottle with a purple nozzle that was as large as me. She forgot to tell me to close my eyes and sprayed me with some misty liquid. It smelled of lavender… I wasn’t quite sure if it was French lavender or just the regular stuff. Apologies, faceless entity, I haven’t gotten out much over the past few years. I wasn’t as cultured as I wished I could be, so, you’ll have to deal with my limited explanations.

We took the vehicle back to our place when Abigail suddenly shrieked and stopped the vehicle. She got out and left the door open. I could hear her shouting. Then, I heard the unmistakable goony voice of Ratty Shoes.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

“Who is she? Who are you?”

“It’s nothing!”

“I actually saw you kiss her, you idiot! Oh my God! We are so over!”

The car door slammed shut as Abigail landed heavily back into her seat and we drove off at a fast pace. I was so glad she ended it with that man, but I could feel the sorrow in the air. I wished she didn’t have to go through this. But it might’ve been necessary.

“I can’t believe this!” Abigail sobbed. “How long has this been going on? Is this why I hadn’t seen him lately?”

We arrived at home, Abigail locked us in her room, and turned on an old movie. Probably the right idea. I was reunited with my friends. I wasn’t placed next to Lila. That was alright. I was right next to Abigail. She embraced me and I did my very best to embrace her right back.

This went on for several nights. In fact, it went on for several weeks, I believe. I lost track of the days. I was just so happy to be back where I belonged. Back to the monotony, back to the comfort of the routine. Knowing how the days would play out. Spending time with Abigail as she got ready in the morning, leaving us Stuffies alone for several hours, though our time alone was much less than it used to be. Abigail would return with satisfied huffs of “I’m so happy to be back home” or “I’m so glad I’m done with work.” She’d change into pajamas and sit with us in bed. We’d watch TV. She’d make food in the kitchen and bring it back into her bedroom so we could smell it as we watched old movies… oftentimes, something Italian. I longed to be able to taste thyme on my tongue, assuming there was one inside this closed mouth, but at least to have its scent settle in my nostrils, that was enough. We’d watch movies until bedtime, and then we all drifted to sleep on the maroon mattress. Whoever didn’t like the sound of the same old routine day after day, probably never got stuck under the bed. This was heaven.

I felt amazing… but Abigail wept most nights… in the beginning. I felt horrible for Abigail. Her mood improved just barely each day. I couldn’t believe Ratty Shoes had that much of an impact on her, but apparently, he was more than a stinky pair of sneakers. Abigail spent so much more time at home with us… with me. For that, I was grateful. But she was still in pain. She was still having trouble moving on. I could hug her as much as I wanted, and I am sure I provided her with comfort, but I could only do so much. I wasn’t a miracle worker. And I was very small. I was nowhere near the same size as Abigail. She needed larger hugs.

One night, as we watched an old movie, she looked at me, and I stared back at her, trying to convey a message. Her eyes studied mine. Her head cocked to one side.

“I’m so glad you’re back, Clyde! I’m so glad we found you again!”

Abigail kept staring into my eyes. I attempted to squint with the eyelids I didn’t have, hoping my message was being transmitted from plastic eyes to… I want to say… skin eyes? I’d have to look into what human eyes were made out of. Regardless, I tried harder and harder to squint. I stared right back into her eyes and focused with all my might. I tried to conjure up that magic that I did weeks ago from under the bed, hoping I could send a limb flailing in one direction as a sign. But nothing would budge. So, I kept gazing into her eyes with my own, my message sitting behind my black plastic spheres.

She continued staring at me with a smile.

“You know, you’re the one I’ve had the longest, Clyde.” Abigail said thoughtfully. “Since 6th grade. When… when Andy gave you to me. Wow, 6th grade. What’s that? 15 years ago?”

She paused and thought silently. Her smile widened.

“Andy was always so nice in school… and we never dated… but I always thought we might. But I picked… I picked poorly. Maybe I need to reassess how I choose men.”

My eyes froze… not that they were moving to begin with.

“Maybe I should give Andy a call.”

Yes! She did get the message behind my eyes!

“He’ll probably laugh when he sees that I kept you all these years. He… he always stayed on my mind.”

And even as a youngster, the boy wore nice shoes!

**************

If you enjoyed this story and want to read more of my work, then please come check out my website where I post all my latest work, plus you can even subscribe for updates!