Morton

The first time I had seen Maria, was when I was losing hope.

I had been sitting on that stupid shelf for weeks, staring out the same shop window, and watched the same things happen. The bell would jingle as a little kid would burst into the store, face lit up with excitement, their parents trailing behind them, mentally preparing themselves to have a hole burnt in their wallets.

And each kid would run up to my shelf and their eyes racing over the various options. But their eyes would never stop on me. They'd be attracted to the vibrant pink fur, or the blue-button eyes, or the creepy talking one, and even the stupid Easter Bunny. Why would they pick a bunny over me? Yes, I might have plain brown fur, black button eyes, and a brown nose without a smile, but I wasn't half-bad looking.

And then Maria walked in.

She was a small girl, maybe only three at the time, with big brown eyes, brown hair that cascaded down her back, and light cocoa skin. She ran into the store, her mother following behind her, and ran right up to my shelf. I expected her to be like every other kid and pick one more fun than I was, but this time, her eyes skimmed over the one with blue fur, over another one of those stupid Easter Bunnies, and even over the one that had long eyelashes. Her curious eyes landed on me, and she reached out with her small hands, grabbing my stomach and pulling me off the shelf, hugging me to her. For the first time, I felt the comforting sensation of human warmth.

I immediately loved her, and I knew she loved me. She held me in her arms, cradling me like a human baby, and took me home with her.

For a long time, we were best friends.

Maria took me everywhere; to the grocery store, malls, parks, even school a few times, but Mom made her leave me at home. I liked Mom most of the time, but not when she forced me to stay home. Maria snuck me in her backpack a few times, stuffing me under her lunchbox and her pencil bag.

My favorite time of the year was summertime.

Maria was home all the time, and it was just the two of us and her babysitter, Anna. Most of the time we ignored Anna because she was either on the phone with her boyfriend William or crouched in front of a mirror doing her eyeliner.

Maria's favorite thing to do with me was to have tea parties. We never drank real tea or ate real crumpets, but it was her imagination that made it fun. She'd sit me down with the rest of her toys and Barbie and I would have conversations about the weather and fashion and would occasionally argue over if lemonade was better than fruit punch.

Over the summer, Maria would take me to the pool. Mom wouldn't let me go in the pool with her, so I sunbathed on one of the beach chairs, a small pair of sunglasses perched on my nose. Maria loved to swim, she'd swim for hours and hours without tiring and at the end of the day, she'd be so exhausted she'd fall asleep on the ten-minute drive home. She'd always cuddle me, her wet swimsuit staining my fur and I'd smell like chlorine until Mom washed me.

I loved the way I made Maria happier. I loved how when she was upset, she would grab me first and hug me to her chest. I loved how she'd talk to me every night before she turned off the light to go to bed and how she'd fall asleep scratching my nose with the pad of her thumb.

Maria was an imaginative little girl. She'd make up stories on the spot, about princesses, ninjas, and majors. She loved to draw and she loved to paint, putting everything she made up in her mind onto a blank canvas. She loved to sing and dance and perform for me in her room. She'd have full concerts, singing the entire soundtrack of High School Musical word-for-word without missing a beat. She loved to dress me up in clothes she bought with her tooth-fairy money. I felt stupid, but I didn't care. As long as Maria was happy.

But then, Maria started growing up.

She shot up like a weed in springtime, blossoming into almost an entirely different person. Her voice deepened and little spots appeared on her face. She began to spend less and less time with me, in fact, the only times we were together were when she was in bed and asleep, and even then she didn't talk to me. She seemed more interested in lathering on strange concoctions and powders in front of the mirror.

It came to the point where she stopped talking to me entirely.

There was this other new thing she couldn't let go of: a small rectangular light-up box gadget. I didn't know what it was, but she loved to look at it and push it with her fingers. She loved to talk to it too, holding it up to her ear. She called the rectangular box "Ximena."

But, I got really confused when she brought a girl into her room.

I had seen other girls in Maria's room before, like Nia when she was in second grade and Quinn when she was in sixth grade. But this girl came around more often than they did. Maria said they were "best friends."

The girl was named Ximena.

I was really confused, because that's what she called the rectangular box, and now she was calling this girl Ximena. But Ximena was nice, she and Maria talked for hours on her bed without getting bored, just like how she used to talk to me. But they ignored me. Maria even shoved me behind one of her throw pillows before Ximena came into the room. I think it had to do with the fact that Ximena said, "You still sleep with a teddy bear?" when she first saw me. I didn't think it bothered Maria that much, but later that night, she didn't cuddle me to sleep like she used to.

One time, Maria brought someone else into her room.

This time, it was a boy. He had dark brown hair and dark eyes, wore a black hoodie and a pair of baggy jeans and seemed to laugh at everything Maria said, even though her jokes weren’t that funny. Maria had always been a creative person, but she couldn’t make a good joke on the spot to save her life. The boy was named Noah.

Maria acted differently when Noah was around. She spent a good hour before he came over pampering herself in front of the mirror, just like Anna would do years ago. I wished Maria didn’t care so much anymore– I missed the days where she would just let herself live without much of a thought. But Maria was changing, and I wasn’t. I just couldn’t seem to let go of the girl I used to know and accept this new person she was becoming.

Ximena and Noah were the two people that came into her room the most. Whenever she was with Noah, they’d kiss and talk and lay on the bed together, and whenever Ximena was around, she’d talk about Noah and Ximena would give her advice. I liked Ximena more than Noah– Maria was too attached to him.

Then, one day she came into her room, crying. 

Mom had tried to come in, but she slammed the door and collapsed onto the bed, screaming into the pillow, as if she had been brutally stabbed. Her face was tomato red with rage and she sat up on her bed, grabbing the pillow and throwing it across the room. It smashed into one of her shelves and her books, candles, and vases came tumbling off of it– including the framed picture of her and Noah– falling to the floor with a loud thud!

She looked at me, eyes flashing with anger and grabbed me not in the way she did lovingly as a child, but with insinuation and fury. It was as if I did something wrong. She wound her arm up like a baseball player and threw me against the wall with all her might. I bounced off the cold plaster and fell to the floor, limp and lifeless.

She took a few shuddering breaths and sat down on the edge of her bed, wiping her eyes. She looked at me, her eyes softening, and she picked me up off the floor and tenderly placed me in her arms after what felt like a century. At that moment, I wasn’t sure if I was mad at her or empathetic. But, I wanted to hug her like she was hugging me, but I couldn’t, so I just stayed in her arms. She held me to her chest like she did when she was a kid and I felt her stomach rise and fall with pent-up frustration.

“I’m sorry, Morton,” she whispered, talking to me. This was the first time she talked to me in years. “I’m so sorry, Morton.”

She rubbed my nose like she used to do when she was younger, and her shaky breaths became more constant, her chest rising and falling consistently until she fell asleep, and we stayed like that until morning.

A few days later, she began to pack her things, taking all her clothes and belongings with her in boxes and suitcases. “College” was what she called it. I’m not sure what it was, but I didn’t like it, because it seemed like she was going to leave.

And this time, it seemed permanent.

The last day in her room, she cried. She laid in bed all day, taking in her bedroom as if it were some art gallery in Paris, and scrolling aimlessly through her rectangular box, which I had grown to know was called “a phone”. When Mom told her it was time to go, she got out of bed slowly, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail, and started out of the room.

But she paused at the door.

She looked back, and looked right at me, dead in the eye. Maria came up to the bed, and picked me up, staring deeply at me, and then gave me a squeeze.

“Thank you, Morton,” she whispered into my fur. “I’ll come visit you, okay?”

And she set me down on the bed, walked out of the room, and closed the door.

That was the last time Maria ever talked to me.

Maria only came around every once and a while, but I expected that. What I didn’t expect was having to let go of her. When she was young, I thought it would be me and Maria forever. I thought I was going to be by her side, like a companion, helping her through the struggles and being with her during the times of celebration. But I guess I was wrong.

Girls grow up, and teddy bears don’t. As I lay alone in her bed, staring at her nearly empty room, I look forward to one thing and one thing only. The day when she comes back. But, in the meantime I’ll have to let go of Maria and accept that she doesn’t need me anymore– she’s learned to march to the beat of her own drum.