Flash tale #1 - Deal

Deal

Fairfield, CT

Tom sits on the couch across from his wife and he shrugs. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I’m just…” He shrugs again. He laughs. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

Donna balances the teddy bear on her knee. It’s plain, tan thing. Not vintage, not brand new.  “You don’t have to do anything with it, Tom. It’s just a gift. It’s just Tabitha being adorable. You said yourself, she’s a sweet little girl.”

Sweet is right. Sweet is also polite. Less polite would be ‘imperious’. And if Tom were completely honest, he’d use the word ‘bossy’.

Is it normal for four-year-old girls to try and be in charge of their babysitter? Is it normal for them to want to dominate? Tom doesn’t know much about kids, but since he and Donna moved in next door, the little girl with the pixie haircut has behaved one way when they’ll all been together, and quite another way when she’s alone with Tom.

“She’s got a little crush on you, that’s all,” Donna has said. She jiggles the stuffed toy lightly between her hands. “She doesn’t have a daddy, her poor mother raising her by herself.”

Maybe. When they’re all together, a neighborly cookout or trip to Elwood and the sprinkle park, he’s been confused for the girl’s father on multiple occasions. Doesn’t clarify matters when Tabitha has called him ‘Daddy’.

“Push me, Daddy! I wanna fly!” And when he complies, pushing the swing so that the girl performs an arc that would surely send her into the next zip code if she didn’t hold on tight, her shrill scream of delight invites the attention of every other adult there.

“You’re so good with her,” Donna says. “She obviously adores you.” Donna gets up and joins her husband on the couch, kisses him on the cheek. “I love seeing how natural you are with her.”

Tom looks away. This conversation could be taking a turn. Five years married, no kids. They’re not trying for a family. Or are they? It hasn’t worked the natural way, and neither of them, and they haven’t talked about possible next steps. Because of the new house, because of Sunday brunch at The Sinclair. Because aren’t they happy the way things are?

“Maybe it’s time we-“

“That’s not what this is,” says Tom, cutting her off. He gives an apologetic smile, and then says, “I’m glad we can help out, I’m okay being a…father figure or whatever this is.” He looks his wife in the eye. “But it’s not making me desperate to have a bunch of babies. And I got the feeling that you don’t want that either.”

Donna nods. She holds the teddy-bear to her chest. “I just don’t want you looking back and having regrets.” Her nose wrinkles. “Because of the life we chose.” Her eyes fill with tears and she whispers, “I couldn’t stand it if you blamed me.”

“Never,” says Tom immediately. Because this one is easy. “Not your fault. The whole fertility thing is a crapshoot. “Seriously, baby, I would never…” He takes hold of her hand, brushing against the teddy-bear. Such a soft bear. Must be new, must be special. Tom looks down at it. “We’re in this together, all of it.”

And they’re okay. Donna rests her head against his shoulder. Tom takes the bear. “Such a soft bear,” he says.” He laughs. “And just where am I supposed to put this thing?”

Donna shrugs. “Anywhere you like.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Tabitha will expect me to give it pride of place.” He strokes the bear’s fur. “Probably have to give the thing its own room.”

Donna giggles. “Silly.” She puts her arm around her husband’s shoulders. “It’s just a little gift. Sweet of her, but she’s only four. She’ll probably have forgotten all about it by tomorrow.” She smiles at her husband. “You’re so silly.”

“She won’t forget.” Tom raises the bear and looks into its face. What a soft bear. His hands are soft too, as if they’re melting, which is no stranger than the idea that they’re getting smaller. “She’s so imp…” And the word he’s looking for is gone, blinking out just like that.

What is Tabitha like? She wants to be the boss of them, she wants to be in charge. And calling him ‘Daddy’ was just one of her games. She’s called him other things. She’s called him baby. She’s called him brother.

“Tabitha’s weird,” says Tom. There, he’s admitted it. And that’s not even telling Donna that the little girl said she would make him a deal, that she could make everybody happy.

“Hmm? Weird how?”

Tom’s voice squeaks, making him sound adolescent. “She’s got this whole fantasy spells and being a witch…” Tom presses the bear against his face. “Probably thinks this dumb bear is magic,” he says, his voice muffled.

“She’s just a little girl,” replies Donna, and her hand feels stronger as she holds him. Bigger.

“She’s more than that,” Tom mumbles back. He closes his eyes, picturing the girl with the pixie cut and the determined expression. “She’s something else.” And he smiles. Because he’s all furry now, he’s all soft and melty, and the feeling makes him smile even as a dizziness makes him sway, and he falls against Donna.

Falls onto Donna.

Onto her lap.

“Oof,” Donna exclaims. But Tom isn’t so heavy. Not now.

Silly Tom. Silly, sweet Tom. Perhaps Donna is silly as well, and she closes her eyes as a wave of dizziness rises up through her chest, and she’s certain that she’s going to vomit.

No. She opens her eyes, puts both her arms around Tom, who needs to get out of his dress-up clothes, who can’t wear such a silly, oversized outfit if they’re serious about going to Elwood with Tabitha and her mom.  T-shirt and swim shorts, probably.

“Tabitha’s not sweet,” says Tom, with a petulant tone. “She’s always telling me what to do, she’s always wanting to be in charge.” He squirms on Donna’s lap. “She’s not in charge, Mommy.”

“No,” Donna says placatingly, kissing the top of her son’s head. “Tabitha’s not in charge. But she was kind to give you the bear, wasn’t she.”

“Guess so.”

“You should draw her a picture, to say thank you.” She gets up, picking Tom up and cuddling him. The adult-sized jeans slide off the boy’s legs and fall to the floor. She smiles. “You can draw the bear!”

Tom nods. It’s a good idea. He likes to draw.

“Now, let’s get you changed,” says Donna, putting Tom back down. “What you wanna wear to the park? Your Paw Patrol shirt?”

Tom blinks. For the briefest of moments, he has no idea what Donna is talking about. And then he remembers, the yellow T-shirt with Rubble on the front. He nods, decision made. And then he runs through to his room to find it.

THE END

He was asked to babysit his neighbor’s daughter - but with a thank-you teddy bear, the daughter isn't the only one needing a babysitter - Waynee