The pink bear
Of the odd potential for connections in our daily lives and way too much rain way too fast.
Lightning zig-zagged across the sky, painting lacey patterns that lasted a fraction of a second. Thunder played a drums-only symphony of varying intensity. Becca watched the show from her window on the 20th floor of a grey cube much like many others; she sipped tea, her tabby cat Noodle standing at her side with his ears perked up and tail flapping back and forth. She crouched to reassure him, but he bolted to his hiding place under the bed. A few minutes later, the light and noise subsided, and rain started pouring. After all that grumbling, the sky had finally found a bathroom and was emptying its bladder furiously.
Becca sat down at her laptop. No matter how much she would have liked to remain lost in a storm reverie, her report was due the next day. She had sped through it at the start of the week, then decided to take one Misery Day before doing the final checks. Despite what her therapist said, Becca had perfected control over her misery. It used to drive John up the wall how she could switch it on and off. Becca shrugged John from her mind and dived into the tables and numbers. She worked away for a blissful hour as rain pummelled her windows and bounced down buildings in small waterfalls.
—
Sarah was stuck. The metro station underneath her had flooded. She could see rivers flowing down the escalators and stairs. She stayed under the stoop, looking at the road that had turned into a pond and trying to stand as close to the wall as possible to avoid the tidal waves created by passing cars. She sighed and pulled out her phone. She had waited there for half an hour, so it was safe to assume that the tram, her backup option, was not running. Seeing the submerged tracks, it was no wonder. She searched her apps for a car to take her home.
—
Becca stood up and stretched with a satisfied groan. Her report was finished. She idly considered ordering Thai or Chinese, but it was still raining, and she didn’t want some poor delivery cyclist getting drenched on her account. Frozen it is, she decided. Noodle had turned into a snoring ball on the sofa. She would soon join him for a misery watch of some brainless reality show set in sunnier climates. She deserved it.
Becca opened the microwave and stopped for a second, before pulling out a pink cuddly bear. Busy with her report, she had forgotten. Replacing the bear with her dinner, Becca examined it, lost in thoughts. She had found the toy that morning on her way to work. The bear was slumped on top of a low hedge. At first, Becca had left it there, thinking it might belong to some neighbourhood toddler. When she came back from the office, tightly wrapped in her raincoat, it was still there, miserably soggy from the pre-thunderstorm spitting that had been going on all day.
Something tightened in Becca’s chest when she saw the bear; she took it home, washed it, and placed it in the microwave on the lowest heat setting. The toy felt toasty in her hand now, emanating a light scent of laundry detergent. Thunder roared again, and Becca sat the bear on the sofa next to her spot. ‘Bet you’re glad you’re not out there now,’ she mused to it. To her relief, the bear didn’t reply. The microwave trilled and she went to pick up her dinner, thinking she’d better put up some posters the next day. Some kid might be throwing a tantrum that very moment, with their mum desperately looking for their favourite toy.
—
Sarah entered her house in a flurry of droplets. She locked the door, tossed her bag aside, and undressed completely. Then, she threw herself into the shower and didn’t emerge until her skin was pruny and the bathroom had turned into a sauna. She only took long showers in case of emergency. Sipping a warm soup on the sofa, wrapped in her favourite blanket, Sarah reflected that her water consumption had gone down significantly since breaking up with Jake. This was her first long shower in months, in fact. Yet another confirmation that she should have left much sooner. Thinking of Jake made her shiver despite the blanket, and her eyes darted around the room. It had been a long process, but all of his souvenirs were gone now. After much hesitation, she had gotten rid of the last one that morning. Now, her home was well and truly her own. Sarah took another sip and turned on the TV to drown the silence of the room and the noise of her head.
—
The morning after the flood, Becca walked from the station to her office, carefully avoiding the debris that littered the pavement. The hedge where she had found the bear appeared quite battered as well. The sky was tauntingly bright, so Becca felt safe taping her paper to the nearest lamppost. She had put a guy’s name on the flyer to ward off potential creeps. The first that had come to her mind was John, but that seemed pathetic. So, she opted for an equally common name with the same initial. After hanging the flyer, Becca walked to the office, wondering if anyone would bother to reach out at all.
—
Sarah’s head was spinning. She struggled through deep breaths to try and calm her heart that now beat into her ears. Her bag lay abandoned at her feet. She was staring at a flyer taped to the lamppost next to her home. It showed a photo of a pink bear and read: ‘ARE YOU LOOKING FOR ME? If you or your child have lost me, feel free to text Jake at this number.’
The voice of a man loudly cursing startled her out of her stupor, and her head turned automatically towards the noise. Three cars had been pushed by the water at the bottom of the sloping street around the corner. They were now laying sideways over each other like a giant game of Mikado. The man paced next to the pile shouting on the phone.
Sarah lifted her bag from the floor, teared the flyer off the lamppost, and ran back inside her house.
—
Becca was trudging from the office to the train station. Her report had gotten the lukewarm reception she was expecting. Becca’s manager had sighed with a look on her face that Becca had learned to recognise as equal parts concern and discontent. Then, for the tenth time, she had received a strong recommendation to schedule a session with the company counsellor. Becca had run out of excuses, and her therapist had ditched her for ‘lack of openings’, so she had no option but to agree.
Reaching the lamppost, she stopped. Someone had ripped her leaflet; the tape at the sides still forlornly held blank corners. Becca stood by the lamppost for a while, perplexed, then removed the tape and paper pieces, tossed them into a dustbin, and left. She got home, fed Noodle and ordered Thai for her dinner. The pink bear stared at her from the sofa with a vague smile stitched on its face.
‘Looks like you were not wanted, my friend. I’m sorry. I tried,’ said Becca. Those words seemed to burst a dam inside her.
Becca crumbled on the sofa and clutched the bear as a torrent of tears overtook her. Among heavy sobs, she kept muttering ‘I’m sorry,’ and ‘I tried’. Noodle meowed loudly and pawed at her lap; she smiled and stroked him, but the tears didn’t stop. I’ll drown all of us if I continue, she thought. Becca kept crying until the doorbell announced the arrival of her dinner. She scrambled to her feet, answered the bell in as steady a voice as she could muster, and rubbed her face with water until the delivery guy knocked on her door. Coming back into the living room with her dinner, she glanced at the bear. ‘I made you all soggy again,’ she mumbled. ‘I’ll wash you later.’
—
Sarah sat on her sofa, clutching the flyer in her hand. She had spent the afternoon on the phone with her family, trying to figure out what to do. Her sister wanted her to go to the police and report Jake for harassment. Her mum had told her to ignore it and get on with her normal life, that he was just trying to get under her skin. Her sister had pointed out that that’s how women end up inside a plastic bag in a ditch. Her mum had told her to not even think about that. They both had to calm down her dad, who was itching to give Jake a piece of his mind in person. What everyone agreed on was that she should not, under any circumstance, contact the number on the leaflet. She had scoffed at them. She was not stupid. Of course, she wouldn’t contact the number. It would do no good whatsoever. It would be exactly what he wanted.
Her grumbling belly finally shook her free from her thoughts. She took it as a good sign. A tight knot had replaced her stomach since the morning. The phone venting session had loosened it a bit. ‘I need to eat,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Eat, shower, then bed.’ She stood up and walked to the kitchen, repeating those words like a lullaby. ‘Eat, shower, then bed. Eat, shower, then bed.’
Becca stood by the window with a hot mug in her hand, wearing her plush lilac nightgown over her pyjama. For the first time in three years at the same company, she had taken a sick day. Her manager had sounded concerned, but supportive. Becca thought she might put it down to their talk the previous day. She shrugged. It was a plausible explanation. Noodle came to rub against her leg with a light purr. She crouched to stroke him. ‘You must be happy to have me home, huh? Your servant, all day at your beck and call?’ He headbutted her knees and his purring intensified; a hesitant smile flickered across her face. ‘I really need to get my shit together, Noonoo,’ she sighed. ‘It’s been months. I need to get over it.’
Becca had a slow, relaxed morning. After breakfast and a shower, she washed the pink bear a second time and put it back in the microwave to dry. She put on outside clothes and left the house for a much needed food run. She cooked her own lunch for the first time in weeks. Then, just as she was about to stand up to load the dishwasher, her phone vibrated, and a message appeared.
It read: ‘Leave me alone, you creepy asshole!!!’ Becca frowned and checked. She didn’t know the number. For a second, she thought it might be from John, then she shook her head. They hadn’t been in touch in at least a month, and he was not one for expletives or exclamation marks. She replied: ‘I have no idea who you are. I think you got the wrong number.’ She waited a few minutes. No answer. Becca shrugged and moved on.
—
Sarah punched the sofa in frustration. The denial, the plausible excuse, the deflection… all of Jake’s trademarks. A coldness washed over her chest. She had replied, so she had engaged. She was playing his game, again. What would be his next move? More leaflets? Letters? Cuddly toys left by her door, like that stupid pink bear the day after their first fight? ‘I should have thrown it at his face,’ Sarah grumbled, wrapping her arms around her legs on the sofa. ‘How do I stop this now?’ There had to be a way out.
—
By that evening, Becca had all but forgotten about the weird message. Her afternoon passed in a blur of Sensible Self-Care and Misery. She talked herself into scheduling a session with the work counsellor, then worked her mind into a frenzy of anxiety and embarrassment thinking about what she’d have to tell them. A monologue kept playing in her head, growing longer with every iteration.
‘Hi, I’m a full-grown adult who can’t seem to get over my last relationship even though it met its untimely end mostly because of me and my apparent inability to open up to people. Even my therapist ditched me because of “lack of openings”. Can you tell me what that means? Actually, I know what it means. It means I’m a cold, self-sustaining robot like John used to say. But explain me this, Ms. Counsellor, since it’s what you’re paid for: if I’m such a lump of ice, why did I turn into a puddle of mess because of a stupid toy bear? Why has my work productivity gone down so much after John left that I’m just one more lousy report away from a bad review? And, last, why have my Misery Days spiralled out of control? I used to be fine with only one or two a month, now it’s at least twice a week. Which of my circuits has gone bust? Can you fix it, or do I need a mechanic? Can you help me leave this sofa where I’ve been stranded for the last three hours?’
As if to answer her question, her phone started ringing. Becca grabbed it and stood up. She refused to take calls sitting down. After one look at the screen, she frowned. She didn’t know the number and it was most likely a call centre. Still, desperate for a distraction, she picked up.
—
‘Hey, asshole! I saw your flyer. Are you trying to mess with my head again? Have you not hurt me enough? I’m warning you, one more move and I go to the police. Leave me alone, Jake. Just leave me alone.’ Sarah’s heart was beating like it wanted to escape her rib cage, but she made it to the end of her speech. It was only the second time she ever raised her voice with Jake; she felt a heady mix of anguish and pride. A voice was screaming at her to hang up immediately, but she held fast; she was recording the call for the police, and her rant alone would hardly be proof of anything. Then, a woman’s voice answered, and Sarah almost dropped her phone.
‘Hum, I’m sorry, who is this again? Are you the one who sent the message?’
‘What…’ Sarah’s mind tried frantically to catch up to reality. Was this woman Jake’s new girlfriend? Had he given her a fake number so she could get in trouble for harassing strangers? She took a deep breath. She had to calm down. ‘Is Jake with you? Is he there? Do you even know him?’
‘Unless you’re talking about my old geography teacher Jake Caplan, then no. I don’t know any Jake. I don’t even think Mr. Caplan is alive anymore.’
‘It’s just, on the flyer it said…’
‘Oh, that. Is the teddy bear yours? Though, I’m getting the feeling you don’t want it back…’
Sarah had to repress a laughter of exasperation. ‘You could say that. So, huh, you wrote the flyer?’
A deep sigh echoed through the line. ‘Yeah. A sentimental moment, I guess. Sorry to cause you distress.’
‘Never mind, you didn’t know. I’m Sarah, by the way.’ She had no idea why she had just introduced herself to a weird stranger who left missing flyers for plushies. Small compensation for her misguided rant?
‘Becca. Were you really going to go to the police about this Jake?’
It was Sarah’s turn to sigh. ‘I don’t know. I doubt they’d take me seriously. Guess I just wanted to scare him off. He’s all talk, but really, he’s a wuss.’
‘It was a good speech, by the way.’
Sarah smiled. ‘Thank you. Can I ask you why you put that name on the flyer? I still struggle to believe it’s all a coincidence.’
‘Oh, well, I guess. You know, my… my ex is called John…’
—
Becca was on her way to work with a tiny bit more pep in her walk. The pavements had been cleared, and the sun warmed her face. The city was recovering. Until next time, said the meteorologists. When? No idea. The flash floods were becoming more frequent and unpredictable. Becca stopped and closed her eyes for a second. Better enjoy the sunshine while it lasted.
When she reached the lamppost, she looked right towards a row of terraced houses, more common here in the outskirts than where she lived. She was looking at the house with the hedge where she had found the bear, wondering if Sarah lived there, when the door opened and a woman walked out, wearing matching blue sweatshirt and pants, and carrying a couple of rubbish bags. Becca was walking in front of her house when the woman tossed the bags in the bin and raised her head. Their eyes locked and a look of recognition passed over the woman’s eyes.
‘Sorry to bother you…’ she started, ‘are you Becca, by any chance?’
Becca stopped and smiled. ‘And you’re Sarah, right?’
Sarah’s face illuminated with a smile so sudden that Becca was taken by surprise. ‘I knew it!’ Then she blushed and looked down. ‘I mean, it’s just that… I saw your WhatsApp photo after we talked yesterday…’
‘It’s okay,’ Becca reassured her with a smile. ‘I was also kind of wondering if I would see you on my way to work.’
Sarah nodded, returning Becca’s smile. ‘I won’t keep you, then. Hope you have a good day.’
‘You too,’ said Becca, turning to leave.
‘You know,’ hastily added Sarah, ‘I’m free this afternoon if you’d like to stop for a quick coffee on your way back.’ Becca hesitated, her mind quickly examining all the scenarios where this invitation by a practical stranger could turn tragic. Even if they had been on the phone for almost an hour the day before, she knew very little about Sarah. And Sarah knows very little about me, so what is she thinking?
The same thing Becca was thinking, obviously, because she turned around with a smile and replied: ‘I’d love to. Tea though, please. I’m trying to drink less coffee.’
‘Tea it is, then,’ smiled Sarah.
Yes, thought Becca, walking away. The rain can come again at any moment. Let’s enjoy the sunshine while it lasts.
Writing musings and news
As I already mentioned in last month’s newsletter, the Heart Art Anthology volume 2: the Pen and the Brush is live! Get your paperback copy here:
If ebooks are more your jam, email the wonderful Mistress M/Nikki Ali at
mistressmwriter@gmail.com
and she will hook you up with your digital copy!
I’m going to quote Mistress M in describing my fellow authors participating in this anthology, as well as the wonderful guest artist whose work was our source of inspiration:
Jenny Tan (artist and illustrator): ‘the world’s most magical and most healing comic artist, a master of integrating and expressing emotion through art;’
Anela (poet): ‘an inspired, elegant, and gorgeous poet whose work helps her, and us, give name to and integrate the messiness of emotion, and to connect across the medium of words;’
Jobeth-Marie H. Pascual-Saqueton (writer): ‘There is a gorgeous coziness to Jobeth’s creations, a focus on home and connection that I think many of our hearts + souls feel hungry for.’
Last, but not least, Nikki Ali (writer and driving force behind the anthology): ‘Her words and worlds are a celebration of the exquisite and the harsh, the raw and the polished-to-perfection; life made beautiful.’ This last description is by me.
Other writing projects are currently on hold due to the move I mentioned in the January newsletter, which was followed by a rather intense month of house renovation. The end of the tunnel is in sight, so here’s to hopes for a less stressful March!
Thank you for reading and I’ll catch you next month with another Oddball Tale!
Magnolia