Fluffy

Andrew took a breath in relief as he won the bid. Five hundred thousand dollars. That much money seemed insignificant now. All that mattered was that he had only two more cars to go. Luckily, he already knew where to find one. 

He sat back in his armchair and leafed through the pamphlet next to him-The rarest car collection: What you need to have.

He looked at the cars he had crossed off, and how it had been so hard to get to where he was now. 

It had all started with some small fun time with his father at an Indy 500 race. The cars were so beautiful, and Andrew had been mesmerized. The revs of the engines, going round and round…

The drivers had looked so happy, with all that horsepower at their disposal. 

That had been the start of his obsession. 

But he couldn’t help feeling guilty about spending so much money on just that one car.

So he grunted and walked on over to the other side of the house. Servants bowed to him, but he shoed them off, requesting that the garage be opened. 

He walked across the fields of green to an elevator, which took him underground. 

After a few seconds of waiting, Andrew stepped out and beamed in pride. He looked over the gleaming colors, sparkling under the lights. 

Every car was special. From the old-fashioned ones to the hypercars. And it was all worth millions. 

Still, Andrew felt guilty. He shouldn’t have been spending this much money. After all, he was only 12 years old. 

But he was bored. What do you do if your parents are away on a 3-month business trip and have millions to spend? 

He spent the remainder of the day looking for the other cars. Only two more to go. 

But he found himself wondering what he would do after he had collected all of the cars. It had been a goal of his for a long time, but he had never thought about what he would do once he achieved it.

Perhaps he would keep them a secret-parents might not notice such a small dent in their bank accounts. Or maybe he would sell them off. 

That night he lay in his bedroom, looking at the ceiling. He tossed a bit in his sleep, and his hand fell on something fluffy. He got up and turned on the light, startled. 

It had just been a stuffed animal. Just a stuffed animal, he convinced himself. 

His bed was too large for his own good. 

He lay down again and grabbed one of his car magazines for comfort. He leafed through it, admiring the designs of the cars. 

He chuckled at one car, which was in the shape of a stuffed animal. He looked at the one he had found a few minutes before, which lay forgotten on the other side of his bed. Its beady black eyes stared into his, and he looked away. 

Something didn’t feel right. 

The next morning, he felt restless. He couldn’t sleep last night, and he rubbed his eyes. He refused his serving of orange juice and requested some coffee. 

His servants looked at each other at his request but didn’t dare disobey.

Andrew stood sipping his coffee while admiring his car collection. Nobody would ever understand what he had to go through to reach his goal. It was a pain that nobody would understand. 

Suddenly his coffee tasted bitter. He frowned and looked at the cup, wondering why he had even chosen to drink coffee in the first place. He threw the cup over the railing, and it bounced off the hood of one of his cars, creating a small dent. 

There. Now he felt more like a kid, like a 12-year-old. 

He couldn’t understand why he had tossed his stuffed animal aside like that. He reflected on it for some time, and then he remembered that that stuffed animal had been his most favorite thing in the world until a few weeks ago.

Then it hit him. Fluffy. It had been his best friend. He used to carry it everywhere he had gone. He used to sleep with it. It had been his companion. A piece of him.

Having his parents gone for months at a time meant he had no companionship in the house. He had everything-a large house, money, and toys-but not a friend. 

And then Fluffy became his friend. It was love at first sight when he had seen it on the shelf. 

Those curious eyes. That designer fur. How soft it was. Every time he dropped it he would wince. The scratches and tufts of fur falling out made him love it even more. 

Why had he done this?

What was going on with him? He was changing. He was only 12 years old, for good times’ sake.

He was acting like an adult.

After that brief session, he shook it off. It was probably just a phrase that he was going through. 

Luckily, to take his mind off things, he had found the other car. And it was only a few miles away, rusting in a junkyard, according to the person who had sold it to that place. He made a quick trip there, which took up his whole day. 

After a quick trip to the repair shop, it had found its place in the garage. It was a shiny, red Ferrari. Looked quite old and a troublesome car at first, but it was one of the few hundred around the globe. 

One more to go. 

Although it had been rusting in a junkyard, it had taken a great deal of persuading to get it, especially as the junkyard owner saw he was quite an avid 12-year-old, not some rich kid who he could win over with some small figures. He was feeling more like a grown man every second. 

That night, Andrew realized that his parents would be home in a week. A week to find that last car. A week to reach his goal. 

He frantically began his search for the last car. He spent many nights sleep-deprived. He had to reach his goal. It was the only thing in his sights now.

A few nights later, with only two days left, he lay down in bed, unable to find the last car. His heart started beating faster, and he instinctively grabbed Fluffy the stuffed animal. He held it close to his chest, and was able to relax a bit-but threw the stuffed animal across the room as fast as he had reached for it. He didn’t want to act like a kid, holding a stuffed animal for comfort. It was childish. 

He found the stuffed animal pierced on the sharp edge of the spoiler of a model car, its fluff falling out of the brown fabric in the morning. Exasperated, he grabbed it and headed to the dining table, forming a trail of stuffing behind him. He still loved Fluffy. 

Disregarding the stuffed animal, he had found the car, after a wild goose chase of phone calls. It was an hour-long journey by car, and he left as quickly as he could. 

But this last car was special. He would be buying it from another car collector. 

He had made sure to bring a large sum of money with him, and walked breezily in the home. It was a large manor, tall and imposing. 

“Ah, hello Andrew,” an imposing voice said, “You look quite younger than I thought you would be.”

“Yes, and that shall not be any problem,” Andrew replied, staring directly at the large, bearded man in front of him. 

They stared at each other for a few seconds, analyzing each other. 

“So, shall we proceed?” said Andrew breaking the silence. 

“Yes.”

Without hesitating, Andrew raised the stakes. 

“1 million.”

The man’s eyes widened, and he chuckled. “I see, desperate for the car. Well, I feel bad for you and your age, and I accept your deal for a million.”

Andrew fumed in anger. He was glad that he had been able to buy the car, but he didn’t like how he wasn't being treated as a man. 

“No. Don’t do it out of pity. Do it if you want it,” his steely voice said. 

The man’s reply was cut off by his daughter’s arrival. 

“Hi, Daddy!”

“Hush, dear. I’m in a meeting right now.”

“Okay,” and then she settled right next to him. Andrew looked at her in disgust, interrupting a deal between two grown-ups.

“So one million it is?”

Andrew nodded, and held out his hand for his assistant to hand him the money. 

Instead, he felt fur. He turned around, surprised. In his hand lay Fluffy. 

He looked up at his assistant, who had a poker face on.

“What is this?”

“Sir, I saw that you had left it on the dining table, so I thought you might need it.”

“Nonsense! Give me the money,” Andrew said through his teeth, his seething with anger. 

The man accepted the money, but the little girl was not happy. 

“Daddy, I want that stuffed animal!” 

“No dear, that is not part of the deal. Just the money.”

“No! No! No! I want that stuffed animal!” The man shrugged at Andrew, and then the little girl ran up and snatched the keys from Andrew’s hands. 

“Hey! Give those back!”

“No. Give me the stuffed animal.”

Andrew sighed, and knew he didn’t have another option. Anyway, it was just a stuffed animal. He didn’t need it. And so he handed it over without a second of hesitation, and skipped out of the manor, twirling the keys around his finger, humming to himself. 

The car was a true beauty. 

It lingered in Andrew’s head at night, and he couldn’t believe and he had accomplished his goal. Amazing. It had taken so long to get to where he was now. 

But he couldn’t imagine selling those cars, or anything happening to them. He loved each and every one. 

Involuntarily, he reached out for Fluffy to get a sense of comfort and direction.

But his hand thumped around on the other side of the bed, and then he remembered that he had given it away. 

He tried not to think about it, but he started feeling lonely for the first time. 

He started feeling like a little child again, and he reminded himself that he was 12 anyway. It was normal. 

He pulled up his blankets, and tried to turn away. He fell asleep, but his mind was disturbed. Nevertheless, he went out and bought another Fluffy the next day, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t connect with him. He couldn’t connect with it either. Every single scratch and line on the old Fluffy had meant something. It was a piece of him.

It had been a part of his life for the past 9 years now. 

And he couldn’t go back and ask for it again from the little girl. 

Again, Andrew lay in bed, feeling pessimistic. He had given his bear away in desperation, without any second thought. He could see his old self in that girl, eager for Fluffy. She had connected with it in a way he had at first. He could see the love in her eyes.

He had gotten what he had wanted, but it had come at a cost.

He hadn’t just given away a toy, he had given away a piece of himself.