When Oscar Whispered

Shrouded in darkness, Charles gently placed his mother’s urn on her coffee table. Silence and the scent of mothballs greeted his senses. Drab green drapes, embroidered with floral patterns, covered the large picture window. He stepped over and flung them open, causing a whirlwind of dust to sparkle in the sunlight that spilled into the room.

Charles turned and stood, sighing at the memories. Dozens of framed family photos, many of which were decades old, covered the walls. He’d grown up here, but moved away after college. Now, middle-aged and graying, Charles found that no matter how much time had passed, the memories came flooding back as if they were only yesterday: birthdays with friends and family; homework with dad on the coffee table; Christmas mornings; his first kiss with Mandy Lanning on the brown loveseat that still sat in the living room.

For Charles, this simply wasn’t a house, but a home. And to him, the difference was immeasurable. Now, they would have to sell it.

His eyes misted at the thought. He inhaled deeply, blinking back the emotions before his wife or daughters saw him. Be strong Charles… Black men don’t cry, remember?

Conversations on the porch broke his reverie. His wife walked in carrying an armload of cleaning supplies.

Tamara paused, offering a tender smile. “How are you holding up?”

Charles shrugged. “Fine.”

Tamara looked at him sideways, her eyes skeptical, reading more than just words.

“Let me help with that.” He stepped forward, hoping to steer her away from the subject.

“Thank you.” She handed him a bag. “But you’re not off the hook. You can’t hold on to your guilt, Charles. Grieving is healthy.”

They moved into the kitchen, unloading the supplies.

“I know. You keep reminding me, but I’m fine. Really.” He gave his best half-smile, hoping it would suffice. It fell short.

He turned, looking at his daughter, Aaliyah, standing in the kitchen doorway. She shared the same expression as her mother. “I agree with mom. You can’t let it eat you up inside.” She stepped in and dropped an armload of Swiffer cleaning attachments.

Charles sighed, his shoulders slumping. I love them dearly, but I’m fine…  

When he looked up, Jasmine labored into the kitchen with another armload. “And we’re not giving up until you forgive yourself, Dad.”

Charles shook his head and glowered lovingly at them. Spreading his arms wide, he pulled all three into a group hug.

Between his wife, with two decades as a psychologist, and two loving daughters, they weren’t about to let up. Tamara had emphasized how important proper grieving was for mental health, but Charles could never remember needing to. Throughout his life, he had managed well enough by keeping his emotions under control, like every good man should. Charles never questioned it. After all, he’d never once seen his father cry and there was no man he respected more.

His parents were happily married until cancer took his father ten years earlier. His mother coped well living alone until just a few years ago when she fell and broke her hip. At the time, Charles and Tamara were living cross-country. Charles’ sister, however, lived close and helped with doctors’ appointments and physical therapy. The arrangement worked until his mother fell again and moved into assisted living.

As life so often does, however, time got away, and in two years, Charles could only come home and visit her twice. So, when his mother passed away ten days ago—lying in a cold sterile room, frail and alone—Charles couldn’t forgive himself. He hadn’t been able to say goodbye. He hadn’t thanked her for his wonderful life, nor could he remember the last time he’d said: I love you. And now, the guilt was eating him up inside. I can handle it though… I always do.

Charles kissed each of their heads, rubbing his daughters’ backs. “I appreciate your love more than I could ever express.” He stepped back, looking into their eyes. “I’m good… I really am.”

All three narrowed their eyes, but smiled.

“Just know, we’re here,” Tamara said, holding his gaze, her tone serious.

Charles responded with a broad smile. “I know, dear. Now, let’s get busy.”

Tamara raised an eyebrow after his use of ‘dear,’ a well-documented tactic he used before to placate her. She smiled, though, handing him a packet of stickers. “Use these to mark what we’ll donate, sell, or junk.”

“I’ll start upstairs, I suppose.” After leaving the kitchen, he added, “Oh… I called about a dumpster. They’re dropping it tomorrow.”

As he climbed the stairs, he heard his wife say, “Your sister said they’ll be here in the morning. We’ll have a small army to help us.”

Filled with fifty years of life and memories in the home, they would welcome the help.

Making his way upstairs, he passed more family photos. He paused at one of his mom, dad and sister from the late 70s. Charles shook his head at their hairstyles and clothes, with their wide lapels and flamboyant colors. Judging from the near afro gracing his head, Charles guessed he was around twelve.

From Chicago, they were a small, tight-knit, middle-class family. His dad earned a good living as a master bricklayer, putting both children through college. After Charles and his sister reached high school, his mom took a part-time job at the corner pharmacy. Life had been good growing up in their predominantly African-American middle-class neighborhood.

Upstairs, Charles found himself before his parents’ bedroom door. He paused, his hand lingering over the doorknob, gripped by a strange urge to knock first. He looked back and stared down the hallway, toward his old bedroom, as a flood of memories filled his mind. This might be harder than I thought.

Inside, the dank and dusty room was dark. He opened the thick, heavy drapes and cracked a window. Much of the room was still how he remembered as a kid. Although nothing had changed since he was last here when they moved his mother into assisted living, the room now felt remarkably different and lifeless. What once had been a warm and vibrant space nourished by two people who shared years of love and life now sat cold and empty.

More than ever, his guilt for not being there for his mom tore him up inside. Charles exhaled a long sigh and decided he wasn’t ready to start here. He left and made his way to his old bedroom.

After opening the door, an odor of aged books and cardboard washed over him. On the far wall, he drew back the drapes and opened a window. The room, while small, had felt so much larger growing up. Boxes were stacked along the wall to his right. Near the window sat a high-backed rocking chair that brought back a painful memory. His sister had once crushed his fingers under a rocker.

He stepped up to the closet and opened the door, finding more boxes. Stuck to the inside of the closet door were dozens of kids’ stickers from the 70s. Smiling, Charles knelt and ran his fingers over them. While many stickers were only vague recollections, some sparked vivid memories of when he and his sister would collect and trade them with other kids in the neighborhood. If Charles concentrated hard enough, he could almost hear his dad yelling from the day when he found them stuck permanently to the door.

Charles stood and pulled out the boxes, stacking them near the rocker. He settled into the chair, placing a box at his feet, opening it. Inside were treasures unseen for four decades: glass marbles, Lincoln Logs, books, a tangled slinky, an Etch A Sketch, and Stretch Armstrong, who had seen better days. Charles couldn’t hide his grin if he wanted to.

He opened another box, just to peek. There was work to do, but he couldn’t help himself. When he did, he gasped. Inside, staring up at him with only one button-eye, sat a very special toy. His hands suddenly felt clammy and his heart fluttered excitedly.

He reached in, tenderly lifting a brown, furry teddy bear. His name was Oscar, after his favorite character from Sesame Street. Yes… that Oscar. Charles smiled as he thought back to when his sister had demanded he change the bear’s name.

“Nobody likes Oscar. He’s a grouch,” she had protested.

Yet Charles refused, knowing he was probably the only one who liked Oscar. Even as a child, Charles believed that everyone, including grouchy old Oscar, deserved a friend. So, he had named his bear after him. 

Charles sank back into the rocking chair and studied the bear. Oscar looked so small now in his adult hands. The bear had lost an eye long after it had faithfully performed its sacred duties of friendship and protection. Oscar had been a birthday present from his parents, but Charles was too little to remember the moment. The only memories he could remember were the times when he needed a hug, or a friend, and Oscar was always there.

Now, as Charles sat alone in the silence of his old room and wallowed in his own self-loathing over his mother, he called upon his old friend one last time. Hugging the bear, Charles closed his tear-filled eyes and let Oscar take him away to a secret place only they knew. A safe place Oscar had shown him one night when he needed him most.   

“We’ll be safe here,” Oscar said, his furry face hidden by darkness beneath a blanket.

As waves of rain pelted hard against Charlie’s bedroom window, he questioned the bear with a hint of uncertainty, “Are you sure?” Just for reassurance, Charlie clicked on his dad’s large chrome flashlight, lighting the space beneath his head-propped blanket.

“Yes. Very sure. I covered your blanket in magic,” Oscar assured him, his voice barely a whisper.

Charlie’s eyes grew wide. “Real magic? Like the kind when uncle Robert pulls pennies from my ear?”

Oscar nodded proudly. “Yes. The very same magic.”

Charlie looked away in thought, nearly drooling at all the bubble gum he could buy at the corner store with that kind of magic. Then, from beyond the safety of his magical blanket, rapid flashes of light caused Charlie to stiffen and squeeze his eyes shut. Moments later, he shuddered as loud, thunderous cracks shook his house and rattled his windows.

After the rumbling settled, Oscar said, “See? We’re safe.” The bear spread out his paws in assurance. 

A small smile formed on Charlie’s lips. “It worked.”

Oscar folded his arms, a knowing smile on his face.

Charlie hadn’t always been afraid of storms. One night, at a sleepover, an older cousin had decided to scare the younger kids by putting on a scary Halloween mask. Just as the cousin leapt out, a flash of lightning followed by a thundering boom shook the night, leaving a traumatic and indelible mark on Charlie.

Since that night with his cousin, stormy nights found Charlie seeking solace snuggled between his parents. But now, he had his magical blanket, a shield not only against the storms but also against the unseen monsters lurking under his bed or inside his closet.

But as they waited out the storm, Charlie couldn’t help but think of all the other scary places he would need his blanket: their basement, the woods behind grandma’s house, the carwash his dad used.

“Looks like I’ll have to take my blanket everywhere now,” Charlie said, his tone and eyes serious.

“Why?”

“Well… what about the basement? Or when the kids at grandma’s house go into the woods?”

“That’s what I’m for,” the bear proclaimed, as if it was widely known. “I’m full of magic too.”

Charlie looked at him with a gleam in his eye. “Really? You can protect me just like the blanket?”

“Of course,” Oscar stated matter-of-factly. “There’s no place too scary for us!”

Charlie had never heard Oscar so sure of himself. He tucked the bear into his arms and squeezed, his heart filled with love and joy. Charlie did not know his bear was so special. Now he could face his fears with Oscar by his side.

Thunder shook the house, sending a tinge of panic through Charlie’s body, but the magic held again. He placed the bear down in front of him, smiling, but had a thought. “Why didn’t you tell me before about your magic? We’ve been best friends for a long time.”

Oscar shrugged. “It’s simple. You weren’t ready, but now I trust you. Friends share secrets.”

Charlie mulled over his words, then said, “Like when I told you it was me who put the frog in Mandy Lanning’s desk at school?”

Oscar nodded firmly. “Exactly. Now, we each share a secret. I’m a magical bear and you like Mandy Lanning.”

Charlie blushed, his mouth agape. “What? No, I don’t. She… she… has cooties.”

Oscar crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Really? Then why did we sit by the phone last night for an hour until you worked up enough courage to call and invite her to your birthday party? Isn’t she the only girl you invited? Humm?"

Charlie stared, incredulous. “I forgot her phone number is all. And I invited Rita.”

Oscar merely chuckled. “Your sister doesn’t count.” He grinned. “Whatever you say. Just know, it’s our secret.”

Charlie was about to protest further when a flash of lightning and thunder interrupted. He had closed his eyes, but slowly opened them as the rolling thunder ebbed in the distance. He sighed, thankful beyond measure Oscar was here, but also for trusting him.

Charlie fidgeted with his fingers, searching for the words and courage to thank his friend. Manners were never easy for some reason, but luckily, he had his mom and grandma to remind him.

He settled for the simplest one he knew. “Thanks for being my friend.”

Oscar beamed with pride. “And thank you for being mine.”

Charlie could feel their bond growing, as if sharing their gratitude was forging an even deeper connection between them. It urged him on. “And thanks for keeping me safe.”

“Always remember, Charlie, I’m only ever a hug away,” he whispered.

There was a strength to Oscar’s words, weighted by something unseen that Charlie could not fathom, but instinctively knew to trust it.

“Oh… and thanks for sharing your deepest secret.” He’d almost forgotten that part.

Oscar rested his paw on Charlie’s leg, leaning closer. “You’re welcome. But that’s just one of my secrets,” he said, winking.

Thunder boomed outside as if to punctuate the bear’s words.

Charlie’s eyes grew wide under the blanket. “More secrets?”

The bear grinned, sparkles radiating from his eyes. “I’ll share one more… for now. But it isn’t something I can explain. I can only show you.”

Charlie’s mind raced with excited thoughts, but a soft knock on his bedroom door interrupted them. Charlie grinned, holding a finger to his lips, then turned off the flashlight.

The door creaked open. After a moment, his mom’s comforting voice whispered, “Are you okay tonight?”

Charlie wanted to pretend he was asleep, then remembered he was sitting upright under his blanket. “I think so. Oscar is here.” For a moment, he thought of telling her about the magic, but remembered it was a shared secret.

A floorboard squeaked as she stepped in and sat on his bed. As he reached up to pull back his blanket, his mom gave him a helping hand. She smiled, her face glowing in the moonlight shining through his window. The storm had passed.

“That was quite a storm. I’m proud of you.” She ruffled the top of his head.

“Oscar helped too,” he stated firmly, gently tossing the bear in his lap.

His mom fixed the collar on his pajamas. “Will you be able to fall back asleep?”

Charlie shrugged, unsure if he could with all he had learned tonight.

She cupped his cheek. “How about I rock you for a while? You’re not too old now, are you?”

He glanced at the chair, grinning. It was his favorite place in the world. He grabbed Oscar and followed. After she sat, Charlie got comfortable in her lap.

“You know, I love you very much,” she said, kissing his head, rocking the chair.

He nodded, closing his eyes, listening to the rhythm of her heartbeat. He hugged Oscar.

“You know that, right? I love you, Charles.”

Charles? He opened his eyes, suddenly alert. She only called him that when he was in trouble.

“Charles… are you listening?”

He swallowed, unsure by her subtle change in tone. “I know mama.”

When he reached down and squeezed her hand, she stopped rocking. “Sit up and look at me. There’s something I need you to understand.”

A wave of warmth surged from Oscar into Charlie’s arm, causing his body to tingle.

And when he sat up and looked into his mother’s aged eyes, Charles let out a startled gasp.

“See, I was only ever a hug away,” she told him, her smile warm, her wrinkled face etched by time.

Charles collapsed his head onto her chest and confessed. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I love you so much.” His tears poured out like a torrent of water crashing through a dam.

She rocked the chair while hushing his cries. “I know. I know. There’s nothing to be guilty of. What you and your sister have become was proof of your love. We’re very proud of you both.”

Overcome, Charles sobbed loud and deep, clinging tightly to Oscar. He could feel the bear chasing his demons, cleansing his soul.

And in that moment, he felt the reassuring warmth of a familiar embrace. Taking a deep, refreshing breath, Charles opened his eyes to find himself wrapped in the loving arms of his wife and daughters.