Just Visiting

I was promised an exceptionally boring, uninteresting, down right un-fun spring break. We, sorry —I , was being forced to visit Grandma Opal, a sweet aging woman who’s idea of fun was knitting doilies and using canned tuna to entice the neighbor’s cats into spending time with her. And when she wasn’t off knitting doilies she was setting up strangers on dates and crocheting little hats for the cats. My brother wasn’t being forced to go as he was busy with a ski trip with friends and my mother wasn’t joining me, nor was my father and don’t even get me started on them shipping me off for this supposed ‘vacation’ without my knowledge. I was forced practically dragged from the clutches of my warm bed at the first light of dawn. Only to be squashed into Velma, our hideous forest green little hatchback. Me and my suitcase were packed in like tinned sardines. And yes, you heard right, the car’s name is Velma. As for why that name don’t ask me, my guess is as good as yours.

Oh and apparently Devon almighty, my little brother, little as in splotchy face is shorter than me despite us being the exact same age —the top of his head barely comes to my eyes, imagine that. Well, Devon is on a ski trip with friends so I have to go to Grandma’s alone and then to top it off I notice my dad’s luggage is back here with me.

I look at him from the tan colored backseat,“Where the hell are you going?”

The car’s interior was really more of a brown actually.

He raises an eyebrow at me, staring back at me with cool blue eyes.“Language?”

“English.” I say firmly.

Mom interrupts us before we can bite each other’s heads off to say, “We’re already late you two, squabble on the way if you want.”

And then she turns the key in the ignition and Velma squeals to life. They listen to Heartbreak Express, the CD that has been stuck in the stereo since before I was born. I’m pretty sure it’s just a structural part of the car at this point. And after several hours of winding through a blurred green landscape and whizzing by evergreens at a steady 50 mph, we arrive precisely at the middle of nowhere, which is where Grandma Opal lives. Yes I said at, not in, because there are things around it, but the property itself seems somehow secluded from the outside world. She greets us and they exchange niceties and my personal least favorite, small talk. My parents try to hug me goodbye but I don’t let them. They know I don’t do goodbyes. They lets it slide, but I know it bothers them, them being my mom, by the way she bites her lip. I care, just not that much. I think how stupid and pointless goodbyes are anyways, and I watch Velma whisk them away down a windy dirt road.

Oh, and I forgot to mention, Grandma Opal has a fascination with old things, dolls, toys, teacups, telephones, books, magazines, and an assortment of other oddities and knickknacks. All things I found utterly fascinating as a child, before I realized how creepy and pointless it all is. Walking into her house is like entering a home that lay dormant in some weird amalgamation of time and space set somewhere between the 1800s and the late 80s. It was like her and her home were stuck in a fixed point in time. I tried to ignore her at first, but then felt bad. So I sat with her for a while instead, and she asked me how school was and she made us some tea. She even let me put an absurd amount of sugar in mine, which I was grateful for until she asked me if “ I’d like some tea in my cup of sugar.”

As daylight dwindled and the sun sank low we watched TV together. After a while she began to snore, so I put a blanket on her, one of those rough handmade things that seem to last a life time. I leave the TV on for her, then creep down the hall to my room. ‘My room’ which I couldn’t tell if it was actually a storage room, a toy room, or a guest room, I guessed it was all of the above. I plop down on the bed and stare at a wall, already wishing the trip would come to an end. I could hear the TV droning softly in the living room, and I thought about how my brother and I used to sleep in this little room, back when we still had bedtimes. Back when we were both still young. How we’d press our ears to the door and try and guess what the adults were watching, all while we were supposed to be asleep. Did I mention he’s on a ski trip? I turn out the lights, letting out a sigh as my head sinks into the heavy array of quilts. It sounds like there’s children on the TV, and I wonder what kind of kid’s show plays this late at night.

I didn’t think we had the TV that loud, but I guess Grandma Opal’s hearing wasn’t quite what it used to be. I’m able to make out a few distinct words from the chatter “…Do you…. still awake…?”

I wished I were asleep. The sooner I slept, the sooner I could go home. I only vaguely wonder what’s playing as my eyelids flutter shut and the fuzzy feeling of sleep overtakes me. Until the talking sounds like it’s growing closer, closer, closer, until it’s finally in my room with me.

“Shhhhhh! Be careful…..”

My head snaps up, my body following as I yank the chain, and the bedside lamp flickers to life. Only to reveal an empty room. I blink hard, running a hand through my hair. Maybe I was just drifting off to sleep, and with the TV blaring in the background but I- I don’t even hear the TV any longer. My heart is pounding out of my chest and I feel like a kid again, afraid of my own imagination. Maybe I’d just been stuck in that state between sleep and wakefulness and Opal had gone to bed. Don’t be ridiculous just go back to bed, I tell myself as I lay my head down.

And then I hear a heavy THUD as something crashes to the floor.

This time I leap out of bed, throwing quilts off me like a madwoman. I can’t tell where the noise came from, so I rip away the curtains checking behind them, nothing. I check under the bed, nothing. My heart is beating faster with every step and I can’t tell if I’m angry or scared. I fling open the sliding french closet doors but its too dark, so I feel for the light, but something finds it first and the incandescent bulb glows to life with a faint buzz. I stare into the brightness. And a dozen, no dozens, of pairs of eyes stare back at me—

A half circle of toys, teddy bears, ponies, tabletop miniatures, stuffed cats and dogs, little green army soldiers, a rubber pig, dolls, toys of every kind imaginable, all gathered together like I’m interrupting some sort of congregational meeting. In my shock I trip and I frantically scramble backwards on the floor. I’m about to shriek like a tea kettle, but my mouth is covered by a pair of velvety paws. Looking up I see they belong to a worn brown teddy bear.

“Shhhhhh!” He stares at me with big brown glass eyes.

My eyes go wide and I scream, a muffled scream as his paws are still on my mouth. But as soon as the noise escapes me I’m shushed by dozens of little mouths all at once.

I’m swarmed by tiny plastic ponies with high pitched voices and pastel manes, “No! Don’t be scared! It’s okay! Nothing to be afraid of dear!”

A bunch of tiny green army men march for my legs, a few diving for cover near my feet “Soldier down! Move out boys! Med check immediately! Status reports!”

A stuffed cat rubs against my cheek, purring and speaking in a husky voice. “My you look frightened darling, there’s really no need.”

At this point, I very clearly want to cry, and I don’t remember the last time I’d done that. They continue to swarm me, shouting up at me with tiny voices of every variety, silky, husky, gravely, high pitched, childlike, grown-ish, male, female, humorous, and serious. Their chatter became deafening and I covered my ears until someone clears her throat. The room falls silent around me and all the toys part revealing a vintage little doll. I sit up, and she bounces towards me in her little lace ruffle dress, and then she stops, staring up at me with sparkly blue glass eyes. She waits there, almost expectantly, and I wonder why. Every occupant of the room is holding their breath as I take a closer look. Is that-?

“Nancy?”

All of my fears melt away as I snatch her into a hug. She hugs me back, and for a moment we stay like that. Until my curiosity gets the better of me. I put her down and look at her. I hadn’t seen her in years, and she’d never talked before.

“But where did you come from? I thought grandma sold you at a yard sale on accident!”

Nancy shakes her head, and she’s smiling from ear to ear. “Miss Opal misplaced me in a box! She’d never get rid of me, even on accident.”

I nod. Come to think of it Grandma Opal had actually told me that Nancy had probably just wandered off somewhere. I thought she was mad at the time, but I guess maybe we’re both mad now.

“But enough about me! How are you Dolly? We’ve missed you terribly.” She tugged at my sleeve and all the other toys grew closer, chatter resuming, this time in an excited agreement of having missed me.

I clear my throat and the chatter dies down. “I-I’ve been okay.”

Nancy gives me an odd look. “Just okay? Wait-” the little doll’s head turns looking about the room in confusion “-where’s Devon?”

There’s something I probably should have mentioned earlier. When I get nervous, and sometimes scared, I talk a lot. My sentences run on and I chatter a lot. But also I lie…But only a little, most of what I say is true. I don’t even know why I do it. A therapist told me that it was a defense mechanism, like a chameleon turning colors. I don’t know really, all I know is that it happens and it’s practically involuntary. But like I said… I lie.

Our car’s name is Velma, that was true, but I know why it’s named that. It’s because Devon said the headlights looked like Velma’s glasses from Scooby-Doo. And the car is green, just not an ugly green. And Devon did go on a ski trip, last year…. he just didn’t come back.

And did you know I haven’t cried in a year? I hate crying. I hate it so much. I hate this house. I hate goodbyes. I hate this doll, I hate mom, I hate dad, I hate ski trips, and I hate him. You wanna know the last thing I ever said to him? I could feel my eyes welling up with tears now, as all the little glass eyes stared up at me expectantly. My eyes were now as glassy as theirs.

‘Goodbye Loser.’

That’s what I’d said to him. Nancy’s hugging me now and as I squeeze the old doll tight, I finally break in half. I feel the hot salty tears streaking across my face and the terrifying sensation of relief that comes with them, I feel my chest rising and falling in blubbering sobs. After all these years, I somehow ended up here, having grown up only to become a terrified child all over again, but with one horrible difference. He wasn’t here. He was gone and I could never get him back, and I didn’t hate him. I hated that I somehow had to go on living without him.

I cried for who knows how long. The toys gathered around me, in a comforting silence. After a while they consoled me. Devon’s old toy soldiers and tabletop miniatures insisted on holding a “memorial service”. Which primarily consisted of retellings of their great escapades and adventures with Devon, nearly all of which took place in Grandma Opal’s backyard. They even included a few reenactments. I cried the whole way through. With Lulu the stuffed cat purring on my lap consolingly, and Beary, the worn brown bear handing me tissues as necessary. There were periodical sniffles among the gathered crowd of toys, but I think most of them were trying to stay strong for me. All the little green army men stood at attention for the duration, and I could have sworn I saw little tiny tears escape from the lieutenant’s eyes. The speeches were beautiful, regardless of them being given by little green men made of plastic. One of them broke down into hysterical sobbing half way through his speech, and another officer had to take over. But by the end I think every pair of eyes was crying. They really did love him.

I spent the next week with the toys as they retold dozens of stories I’d forgotten. They shared with me games we used to play, silly arguments between me and Devon, and how afraid of the dark I used to be and how Devon would hold my hand when that happened. I’d forgotten about that. I’d forgotten about lot of things. But we didn’t just cry, we played games and shared laughs. I discovered that Beary was unbeatable at chess, and that Lulu had a knack for connect four, even if she couldn’t drop the pieces in herself. The army men were loyal, the ponies were funny, and Nancy would always listen. Grandma Opal seemed to be conveniently busy most days, in the garden or with the neighbors cats. I wondered if she knew.

“Grandma Opal?”

“Hmm?” She was washing dishes.

“Why’d you keep all these old toys?”

She put own a soggy dish, turning to me with a smile. “Because. They reminded me of someone. A few someones actually.” She winked at me.

Later that night when my parents had finally came to pick me up, I said goodbye to Opal, gripping her in a tight hug. My mom’s eyes went wide, but she didn’t say anything and I climbed into Velma and let the adults say their goodbyes. Earlier that day I’d even said goodbye to all of the toys. All of the little shards of memory I thought I’d lost that I’d found in them. They said they’d wait for me and I hoped they would. But I knew even if they didn’t I’d be okay. Nothing could take away what they’d given back to me. I’d carry it all with me for the years to come. Even if I never got to see any of them again.

And you know something?

He’s with me too. I just hadn’t realized it.