The Life of a Toy

I lie crumpled on the floor, tattered and worn from overuse. My right arm is falling off, leaking stuffing from the seam, for it has never been in worse shape. The severed limb hangs limply by my weathered side. His mom has sewn it on so many times, only to have it be ripped off over and over again. She first sewed it on after her son, my best friend, Charlie, had a tussle with his jealous and greedy younger brother. Charlie grabbed one arm, and his brother yanked on my body in the opposite direction. Then, my arm ripped clean off my fuzzy body, my innards pouring in waves onto the floor.
That was when he still loved me, and I was his life. I don’t even know what happened to tear us in opposite directions. It may have been time or distance, but I think it was love, love for other toys and love for other various activities that pass the time. This love led to my dismantled body and life. Because Charlie was occupied, my fur, which was once soft and fluffy, is now crusty and hard from spilled Honey Nut Cheerios, when his sister began to eat mushy food at a year old. Charlie didn’t bother to wash the mess, placing me gently instead on the counter to be handled later, which never happened.

Some parts of me are completely missing. My short, stubbly tail, which used to be one of my best features, was the first to go. It was round and small and is now forever gone. The dog, Buster, had chewed it off a few years ago when he was left unattended for a few, drawn-out seconds at Charlie’s tenth Star Wars birthday party. Then, Charlie, my best friend in the whole wide world, or the person who used to be my old best friend I should say, saved me when he entered the house to use the bathroom, even though he hadn’t played with me for years. I guess he didn’t want his mom to yell at Buster for shredding another “toy” of his, but Charlie reached into Buster’s jowls just the same, right between the dog’s canines, and yanked me out before much damage could occur. If Charlie had let Buster shred me, the beast would have had to find a new home, and I would have been history, scattered on the floor in various chunk sizes and picked up when the party was over. Charlie loves that dog more than anything else, like he used to love me before. Buster became his new best friend, replacing me when I grew “too old” and was out of style for a boy ten and over.

A few years after Charlie’s tenth birthday party, Charlie, bless his soul, had left me outside in the rain one afternoon, after he had been playing fetch with Buster and using me as the object of retrieval. I stayed outside for three, long-lasting, weeks, twenty one days, until Charlie’s dad found me on a Saturday in May, during the annual spring yard cleaning, with the humongous John Deere riding lawn mower, new last year.
The thin, tall grass had grown over me, covering my entire foot-long body, showing no trace that I was there, so his dad had no way of knowing. He was moving at a snail’s pace over the lawn by the front gate, like he always did when he first started cutting the grass. Charlie’s dad then stepped on something soft and squishy. That was the moment he crouched down and picked me up by the leg, already having sliced my once, perfectly stitched ear completely off with that noisy, earsplitting machine. He at that time returned me to Charlie, who only glanced at me for a brief moment before he threw me into the dog’s toy box, like I was a piece of garbage on trash day.

My faded bear body is almost entirely disappeared now, with scattered holes spread across my entire being from Buster’s occasional “play times” and misuse of me for something I am not intended for. Soon, my skin will become too thin to cover my white fuzz within, and I will become nothing. It may be even as if I was never there, besides ancient thoughts from the past. Nobody will care, and all will be forgotten.
Charlie will turn eighteen soon and find me lying in the corner of his room, reminiscing all of the old memories we have shared. Then, my old friend will disregard the past and will throw me away like the rest of his childhood keepsakes. He will move off to a fancy four-year college that he has earned the right to attend and go on with his life, like his childhood didn’t even exist. He will meet hot college girls who only want him for his looks, play for the college varsity baseball team and meet new people as obsessed about baseball as he is, and he will eventually play for the Yankees. Charlie will own over 10 dogs, not being able to get enough of them and have children. He may buy those children toys, like the new Monster High dolls or Legos, but those kids would be lucky if their father bought them a teddy bear like me.
Maybe then, he would remember who I was, everything we had in common and what we have been through together. He would remember his best friend, Tom, and all of the memories we have shared. His children would be able to live life just as he did as a child, having someone to talk to during the tough times, when no one else would listen.

Charlie and I used to have so much fun together, but we also shared many serious times and pondered life’s many lessons. The two of us spent so much time together, moving from one neighborhood to the next a million miles apart from the last location; his mom called him “Charlie and Tom” as if we were one person, not two. We were inseparable. Even at dinner time when most families have strict rules, I would have my own seat and say grace just like everyone else. Like Charlie, I was forced to eat my vegetables, even though most of the time they would accidentally “fall” on the floor, exactly the same as Charlie’s did. We went swimming at the lake together in the summer, made memories with each other, grew older together, made fun of the annoying, older kids who called us names on the playground together, went to the bathroom for the first time on the big kid potty together, and ate paste in summer school art class together. Whatever Charlie did, I did. I gave him advice on what he should or shouldn’t do, guiding him through life like his graspable conscience. Charlie and I even had matching clothes at one time, until his sister took them for her baby dolls and stuffed animals, without Charlie noticing. The outfit was a blue corduroy overall set that my stubby tail poked through, when I still had it, yellow socks up to my knees, black, sparkly converse shoes that shined in the light when moved from side to side, and a red Yankee baseball cap to support Charlie’s favorite team to complete the ensemble. Charlie and I were brothers, separated by one boundary: life, the life of a man and the life of a stuffed bear, a human being and an inanimate object.

The serious conversations came with each move Charlie’s dad had to make for work and with every fight his parents had, which eventually led to a hasty, messy divorce. Little Charlie blamed this situation on himself and clung to the only thing he knew he would never lose for certain in his life: me.
We cried together when Charlie went to a brand new school and had to make new friends to fit in. We also cried when his teachers sent him home with homework he didn’t understand and wouldn’t ever feel comfortable asking questions on, the homework his parents would never help him with. Whenever my best friend encountered struggles in his life, him and I cried together and comforted one another.
When Charlie had to move from house to house to be shared between his parents, we felt sorrow at many times too, quite a few times believing that each parent only wanted to get rid of him to give him to the other parent. He was passed from one person to the next like a forever-hated curse. Charlie never felt wanted by either of his parents after their divorce, yet he felt wanted by me, his stuffed bear. I was there for all of the fights, when nobody else was, holding his hand and telling him everything would be all right, even if I didn’t know that myself. I was a shoulder to cry on whenever he needed it. I was the lifeline.

Now, that time has gone and passed. I will forever lie in this corner, until fall cleaning comes, and Charlie goes off to college. I was such a huge part of his life, and now, I am not even worth a few seconds of his time or even a short glance. I lie crumpled in the corner, smashed against other forgotten toys and various pieces of garbage, which can now be found stuck in my depleted fur, buried in junk and memories, only worth as much as the past meant to Charlie and me. My days will trickle by, lifeless, slowly gaining more and more dust on each and every part of my body, until I can hold no more. The dust will then fall off onto the floor where it will collect. I will wear away little by little, piece by tiny piece, until I am completely gone: a memory of what was and what never will be again.