Until I See You Again

The door shut so fiercely behind her that it shook the floor a good deal. I could finally breathe again. My best friend- and really my only friend- stared off into space, focused at the closed door that her mother had just slammed. I leapt from where I had angrily been disposed of on the floor and onto the bed where she was sitting. I could tell she wanted to cry but was refusing to let the tears fall. A small smile crept on her face when she realized I was purring. Her hand gently pet my fur that was rough after years of wear and tear.

“I know you’re real. Mom doesn’t, but I know you’re always in there somewhere.”

Her petting stopped as hard footsteps got closer and closer. The door swung back open and I was once again just a toy.

“I can hear you from downstairs, Reagan!” She scolded, “You’re 17 years old. I understood this when you were little, but now I’m concerned that you’re still talking to that stuffed cat as if it’s your pet.”

“But he’s re-”

Reagan’s mom cut her off, “I don’t want to keep hearing the same thing!” She sighed, “I’m honestly considering getting you tested for schizophrenia or something. I’m scared for you, this isn’t normal.”

Even though I had fallen face down on the bed, I could tell both of them were looking at me. It was almost flattering being the center of attention all the time.

Her mom came closer to me and grabbed me by the tail. I could tell she was squeezing hard, but at least it didn’t hurt. There weren’t any nerve-endings at the moment, only stuffing.

“This,” she said, angrily pointing a finger at me, “gets donated tomorrow. It’s for your own good.”

Once again I was tossed carelessly onto the ground. Soon enough I could feel my little heart beating fast, so I knew her mom had left the room. Reagan stood up to shut the door and then looked down at me. 

“We leave tonight. She’s not going to take you anywhere.”

I looked up at her hopefully, relief washing over me. I had spent the last 17 years of my life with Reagan. After every argument, tough day at school, fake friend… I was there. I was always there, sitting on her bed and ready for her to rant to me. I didn’t want to be stripped away from her just because her mom didn’t understand. I know that Reagan isn’t crazy. 

I sat patiently as I watched Reagan rummage through the messy piles that made up her closet. She was searching and shoving and tossing things about, so much so that she somehow made her room messier than it was before. She picked out a few items and put them on the edge of her bed: a backpack, brush, clothes, earbuds, the charger for her phone, and her wallet. She hurriedly stuffed everything into the backpack, then carefully placed the backpack behind a pile of her dirty laundry. She checked the time on the clock above her door: 6:13pm. She thought for a moment before whispering, “We’ll leave a little after 1:00am.”

She spent the rest of the night scrolling through her phone to pass the time. She even changed into pajamas just to make her mom think she was going to bed, only to dispose of those and opt for jeans and a sweatshirt instead. She found some beat up sneakers in her closet and laced them up. The sun had already set, and the sky was about as black as my fur.

I’ve never had the same concept of time as Reagan, so when she swooped me up into her arms I figured it was around 1:00am. She tiptoed past her parents room and to the stairs, where she cautiously placed her footing so that the stairs wouldn’t creak. The quietest way to leave was through the back door. She took one last trip to the pantry and stocked up on all the snacks that wouldn’t go bad soon, like protein bars and nuts. Then we left. She took one last look at the house we grew up in, and then made her way to the sidewalk. The subway wasn’t far from where we’d lived, and within five minutes of sneaking out we were on our way to who knows where. Well, Reagan probably knew, but she never said it out loud, and I couldn’t read, so I had to blindly trust her. Eventually she ended up putting me in her backpack since there were people all around us, and it would’ve probably freaked some of them out if they saw a cat morph into a toy. She didn’t zip the backpack all the way so that I was able to breathe.

The subway was actually a pretty smooth ride. I knew Reagan had fallen asleep once I heard a soft snore. She woke up when the voice on the intercom said that it was the last stop. I felt myself being lifted up through the backpack and tossed around slightly as she walked up the stairs towards the surface. I heard a lot of voices and horns and cars almost immediately. I’d wondered why so many people were awake in the middle of the night until I looked out my little airway in the backpack and saw that we were in a city. Reagan didn’t know anyone in a city, so I had no idea how she thought she was going to fend for herself. Luckily the subway ride must’ve been long since I could see a pink tint start to rise on the horizon. Morning was just beginning and already the city was starting to wake up. More voices and more horns and more cars made it hard to focus on my question; where the heck were we going?

The streets started to get more and more crowded, which made me prone to getting bumped into. Reagan took her backpack off and held it in front of her so that I wouldn’t get as hurt. From this new perspective I was angled at, I was able to see everything behind us. As we walked forward, I could see everyone walking away in the opposite direction. It was nice and I felt at peace. This continued on for a bit, but I started to grow concerned for Reagan, wasn’t she tired? Hungry? We hadn’t stopped for a break since the subway ride.

Reagan took a sharp right turn and walked to where I could hear a lot more noise than before. I could hear arguing, bargaining, and through the hole in the backpack I could see lots of shiny objects. There were purses and clothes and jewelry laid across the sidewalk everywhere. Reagan had found a bag she wanted and unzipped her backpack to grab her wallet. With everyone all around us I was my stuffed self again, but I could still see. I didn’t understand why Reagan would have walked there. It didn’t look anywhere near safe and matched every definition of sketchy. 

She was so focused on finding her wallet that she didn’t notice one of the sellers come up from behind her and take a hold of her wrist. She looked terrified. That’s the last image of Reagan I have in my head; pure terror. It all happened so quickly, but I wasn’t able to move to help her. I watched her get smaller and smaller as I was getting further and further away. She tried to chase after the man who took her backpack, and me, but there were too many people in her way. I quickly realized that without Reagan, I would forever be a toy. My life was nothing without her. She gave my life a meaning, and now I can’t even move without her.

I was disposed of almost as quickly as I was stripped from Reagan. The criminal only wanted whatever he deemed valuable. He took the money and dumped the backpack on a random street corner. Like I said before, I’ve never had the same concept of time as Reagan. I don’t know how long it’s been since I was taken. All I’m able to see are the thousands of pairs of feet that cross my field of vision every day and night. Apparently 17 years wasn’t long enough for me. I didn’t realize how grateful I’d be for that time until it was abruptly ripped away from me.