Red maple trees that lined the quaint neighborhood swayed in the breeze. It was a particularly crisp day, but nothing too out of the ordinary for a Northeastern September afternoon. Except for the unordinary yard sale the burgundy bungalow on the corner was having. Yard sale days were Sundays. The first of every month. But today was Saturday, and dainty, fair faced Elly, who stood on the front porch with her accompanying boxes, didn’t seem to mind. 

 

There were boxes upon bins and containers packed to their brims. It seemed like Elly missed last yard sale day. And the cheap folding tables that she set up in her front lawn looked like they hadn’t been replaced in a mere decade. They were coated in scuff marks and scratches, resembling the items atop of them. 

 

The items Elly was selling included:

  • A fine china dinner set (Rarely used. Her husband hated guests.)
  • A toolkit (Also rarely used. The bungalow was beyond repair. The bathroom sink still hadn’t been fixed.) 
  • A box of cassettes (He made them for her)
  • Wooden picture frames (Why would I need these anymore? She asked herself. They were cracked anyway.)
  • A blue baby carriage with matching baby shoes and a blanket

 

All things she was anxiously waiting to get rid of. She couldn’t bear the sight of them anymore.

Thinking about the items kept her up every night. It was hard for her, especially after her husband walked out last July. The Fourth of July. On her birthday. She couldn’t help she had another miscarriage. And if she could’ve put the house up for sale, she would’ve done that too.

 

Elly waited all day for someone to stop by. She counted all the passing silver Chevrolets, hoping one would be her husband coming home to tell her he was sorry. And she eyeballed all the people on the sidewalk, praying one would draw their attention toward the big, red spray painted “EVERYTHING MUST GO” cardboard sign.

 

She managed to exchange glances with a few passing pedestrians, but most of them turned the other direction or pretended they were on their phone after seeing Elly’s sunken eyes and unkempt appearance. She hadn’t brushed her blonde strands in a few weeks, and her bony figure was camouflaged in the maternity clothes she wore. She figured she’d still wear them even though they were tattered, faded, and she was far from pregnant. And the olive colored cardigan and gray sweatpants she wore looked like they belonged in the yard sale too. 

The sun began to set, and so did Elly’s spirit. She told herself she’d try again tomorrow, and maybe the day after that. She didn’t have the energy to pack up the items, so she went inside to grab blankets to throw over them instead. As she trudged up her porch stairs with her back facing the world, she heard a pair of footsteps and a soft murmur behind her.

 

“Hello.” 

 

It was a man. He stood about six feet high and Elly guessed he was probably in his mid- forties. He carried a tan satchel, stuffed with other items it looked like he had gotten from other yard sales. He had a lot of wrinkles for his age. He looked like he worried a lot. And his sunken eyes resembled Elly’s. He seemed lonely like her too.

 

“Are you done selling for today?” he asked Elly. 

 

Elly wanted to be done, but she knew she couldn’t turn down her only customer. She put on a faint smile and replied, “About to be. But you can take a look.”

 

The man rummaged through the bins. 

 

He gravitated only toward the ones with stuffed animals. Elly had a lot of those for sale. She had expected they’d be put to good use, but they were never able to. She resented them all equally.

 

“So are you shopping for anyone in particular? You seem real interested in the stuffies,” Elly asked the man. 

 

“My daughter likes them.” His reply was so muffled, she could barely hear him.

 

“Awh, that’s sweet. How old is your daughter?” 

 

Elly was desperate to talk to the man. He was reserved, but she appreciated the interaction anyway. She couldn’t remember the last time she had actually spoken with another human being since last July. It had been a while since she left her house. 

 

He muttered “seven” and continued to hunt through the boxes.

 

“How much do you want for this one?” the man asked, holding a sewn together teddy bear.

 

“Eh, probably like 50 cents,” Elly replied, without bothering to look at the yellow-buttoned one eyed, red-stitched backward earred, dark-brown matted furred bear. 

He pulled out his wallet, and she froze as she saw what he was actually holding. 

 

Brodie? She thought to herself. I didn’t mean to put him in there.

 

Brodie was Elly’s special bear. He wasn’t just a teddy picked from the store included with the bargain boxes of heart shaped chocolates. Well, he was. Then he wasn’t. Elly’s husband had given her Brodie. On the fourth of July. On her birthday. 

 

But on Christmas Eve, the day Elly always referred to as “the worst fight ever”, he ripped Brodie. It was probably over something Elly said, but she couldn’t remember. What she did remember was that it was the night of her second miscarriage. She had spent the entire evening locked in the bathroom, hovering over the toilet bowl. Her husband cursed at her from downstairs and out of frustration, he had destroyed the tiny bear saved for their son. The son that never came. 

 

The next day her husband sewed Brodie back together with the scraps of unfinished projects he found around the house. He borrowed some of Elly’s red thread to fix the ears he had ripped off, and he found a yellow button in between the cushions of the torn, leather basement couch to use as an eye. Brodie became the ugliest bear Elly had ever seen. But for her, he was good as new. Damaged, but fixed. It reminded Elly of their relationship. 

 

Elly hesitated before confessing that the bear wasn’t for sale.  

 

“I’m so sorry. He must’ve been in there by mistake.”

 

The man look disheartened. Like a kid in a candy store. When they don’t get what they want. And his sunken eyes capsized even more. He held onto the bear tighter. 

 

“Are you sure this bear isn’t for sale? My daughter would have loved it.” 

 

Of course Brodie isn’t for sale, Elly thought. 

 

“I’m sorry sir; he’s not for sale. Like I said, it was a mistake,” Elly replied. She refused to let go of Brodie. Brodie was an extension of her husband, and she knew her husband wouldn’t be too happy when he returned home to Brodie sold.

 

The man dropped the bear to the ground and turned away. He looked defeated and didn’t speak another word to Elly before walking back toward the sidewalk.

 

“Hey, why do you want that bear anyway? He’s so ugly. I have so many other stuffies you could buy. I’ll give you a bundle discount!” Elly yelled to him. He was almost across the street now, and his figure was fading into a tiny speck of nothing as he walked further and further away from her. 

 

Her insides sunk. She felt terrible rejecting her only customer of the day, so she yelled again across the street to the tiny speck of nothing.

 

“HEY! You can have the bear! $1.00!”

 

The tiny speak resembled a human figure once again. 

 

Elly knew she wasn’t giving Brodie to the man. But she needed a way to lure him back over, so she could convince him to buy another stuffed animal instead. 

 

As the man reached for his wallet to pull out a dollar bill, a polaroid of him with a small girl holding a plush puppy slipped out and fell to the ground. The girl had wide hazel eyes, cheeks of freckles, and brown locks. She looked so happy in the polaroid, and so did the man. Seeing the man’s smile in the picture was offsetting to Elly.

 

“You dropped this. Is this your daughter?” Elly asked the man as she handed him the polaroid. 

 

“Yes.” His sunken eyes lit up. “That was my daughter. About two-ish years ago I’d say. She always loved stuffed animals. Black lab puppies were her favorite. Bears too.”

 

“I go out every Saturday and try to find her favorites. She always liked ugly animals. The broken ones, like the bear you’re selling me. She would’ve adopted him in a heartbeat, afraid no one else would. She always insisted ugly animals deserve loving homes just as much as the cute ones.”

 

Elly was surprised how open the man became when she brought up his daughter. He spoke so highly of her, but his eyes were filled with a deep sadness and gut wrenching pain. 

 

But Elly was still hesitant to give up Brodie. He was her bear. Her special bear. The man could always find another ugly stuffed animal. Elly had a lot of those.

 

“Well, you should come back with your daughter. Let her pick out an ugly stuffed animal; I have a lot of them,” Elly replied.

 

The man’s eyes glazed over. His bottom lip quivered a bit before responding. 

“My daughter passed away. Last spring. That’s why I go out every weekend to find her favorites. She can’t anymore. I put them on her gravesite, so she’ll never have to worry that I forgot about her. And all of the animals she would’ve adopted.” 

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” was all Elly could manage to get out. 

 

She felt guilty. It was selfish to hold onto Brodie now. She had been holding onto him for so long because it felt like her husband, but she knew he wasn’t coming back. As much as she lied to herself every morning that he’d be lying next to her, as much as she convinced herself everyday that they were just “on a break” and he’d stop being cruel and come home soon, as much as she envisioned her dangling Brodie over the son-that-never-came’s crib as she giggled with her newborn, as much as she was living vicariously through delusions, they didn’t mask the reality that the bed had been empty for months. And the crib were never to be filled. All of this would stay that way; she didn’t have the option to choose. 

 

However, she did have the choice to give the man Brodie. Someone who would put him to good use. She never was able to. Elly knew it’d be best if she didn’t hold onto Brodie any longer. Maybe it would be good for her too. She surrendered a piece of herself. 

 

“The loss of a child is the worst loss in the world. I know the feeling,” Elly said to the man. 

 

“You can have him for free. Don’t worry about it.”

 

He smiled and thanked her. Elly handed him the bear, and he turned toward the sidewalk.

 

He walked further and further away, and once again, he faded into the horizon as a tiny speck of nothing. 

 

Elly smiled to herself. It didn’t really matter to her anymore that she didn’t sell anything all day. There’s always tomorrow, she thought. 

 

As she was packing up the boxes, she looked down. Something must’ve fallen from the man’s satchel. She picked it up and realized it was the polaroid of him and his daughter.

 

Thank you for the bear. Though you never had a child of your own, you made my daughter really happy. She’s watching over you, and she told me you would’ve been a great mother. Keep this photo. 

 

  • John,  

 

it read on the back.


Katy Shero is a sophomore studying English and Broadcast Journalism at Penn State University Park. She is from Hershey, Pennsylvania. She began creative writing in sixth grade and hasn’t stopped since. Aside from writing, she enjoys tutoring her peers at the Penn State Learning Center, reporting for PSNtv on campus, and being a part of her THON committee. She also loves ballet dancing and anything fitness related. You can find more of her work in the 2019 edition of Folio.