Almost Fiction

Sometime during the drive to G_____ just now, he happened to look out of the window into another SUV and noticed a youngish looking man in a crisp shirt chaffeuring what looked like a humongous teddy bear in the back seat. As they usually do when being driven around in an SUV, the teddy looked mighty pleased with himself. Rather self-important, people might say. He attempted to wink, but since it was still daytime (and everyone knows teddies only come out to play at night) it didn't reply.

He smiled, thinking of the person about to receive the toy. Would it be a child? Unlikely perhaps, since the man looked too young to be married, and didn't wear a ring. Perhaps it is for a girlfriend or lover, something she'd wanted for awhile or just something he thought would be nice to give.

There is something wonderful, he thought, about seeing a surprised, delighted glow on the face of a loved one.

Rewind: He remembers that once he too, drove a big stuffed toy somewhere to surprise someone. It was a red Elmo, the kind that is large enough to hug a small child. He bought it, strapped it into the passenger seat and drove up North.

Rewind: That time he remembers it was part of an effort to win someone back. He'd had a deadline, and couldn't always wait for a "good time" to do it. As he drove up in his little car to see the girl he'd longed to see, he did something no one knows, till now:

he talked to it.

As silly as it sounds now, he told it his fears, and also hopes. He told it that no matter what happened he'd wish the Elmo to be a source of comfort, and that he wished he knew what to do. The girls at the toll booths smiled when they saw the plush toy sitting solemnly next to him, and he likes to think he made their day a little more interesting.

Fast forward: he arrived at his destination, brought his things in and casually mentioned he'd forgotten another bag in the car. He handed her his car keys, and when he saw the look on her face as she walked back hugging it he knew he'd done something right.

Fast forward: he remembers the moment that she is leaving, the Elmo tied to her backpack. There is a long goodbye and as he watches her walk away to the departure gate he thinks this is something he will never forget. He still hasn't.

Fast forward: she finds a real knight in shining armour, he has lost and this effort is ended. He has since given up on that particular track, but sometimes it brings him a little comfort to think that for a little while, he saw that glow on her face, and that he did good.

The SUV moves, gets lost in the throng of vehicles muscling their way into the toll gate. His reverie interrupted, he blinks and leans back. There is still a long way to go.

He does not ask its whereabouts, only that it is safe in his memory. Perhaps it's still with her, silently watching, sending out the message he took a little time to embed in it during the drive on that long, hot afternoon.