One-Two-Three-Four-Five

When I was a little girl, we lived in a small house with a small bedroom, a medium bedroom and a master bedroom. There was a cellar (not a basement). It was crowded with junk, but I found a way to carve out a little office for me and my staff of stuffed dolls. Two old suitcases stacked one on the other served as my desk. I owned businesses. I was a captain of industry. I demanded more from my team than they had it in them to produce. I spent hours berating them. They stared at me, not once blinking. I stomped my feet and beat the surface of my mom’s old valise. “We need more product production, you nitwits!” It was exhilarating to think that their half smiles were the fear that I stuffed into them during these long meetings. No one took notes. No one spoke a word (but me, the CEO of GraceInc. Importer/Exporters. “This is business, you sniveling cowards. I want MORE EFFORT!” Tyranny from a six year old. “Teddy! Wipe that sour puss face away. Speak up if you want to challenge me. Tell me once again about how hard it is to get the buyers lined up for our spring line. You’ve seen the collection, Teddy. It’s poop!” I reached over and snagged his bandaged ear. “Are you even listening to me!” I pinched his nonplussed cheeks. “You’re really letting me down, Teddy. You know that?”

“Boss. Stop it.” Turtle lurched forward in some feeble attempt to intervene. “He’s had enough. It’s been hard since you tore his ear.”

I didn’t blink as I addressed Turtle. “My father fixed that ear with electrical tape. If he still can’t hear, I’LL JUST HAVE TO SHOUT LOUDER!” Turtle scooted down into his shell, his neck telescoping backwards. I reached over and yanked his face as far forward as it would go. “Sticking up for mediocrity, Turtle?” I laughed. “What the heck?! I thought I taught you better.” From the back, I heard the Barbies giggle. “Eat a cheeseburger, Skipper!” I dismissed them all with a flick of my hand. “You Barbies have some nerve. ‘We’ll show a little leg. We’ll sell it all. boss.’” My voice was high and plastic. “Do you remember those promises, you troubled idiots. It’s been years since I brought you on board, and you’ve done nothing—”

“That’s not fair, Boss. The Barbies are the reason we sell swimwear.” Teddy was rubbing his chin, relocating it. “They put themselves out there. We all do, Boss.”

“Is that so, Teddy?” I stroked my own chin and found the little scar. “Do you know how I got this scar? Have I told you the story?”

“Yes, Boss. You fell down…”

“I fell down on the sliding board because my shoes were cheap knock-off kicks.” Teddy tried hard not to roll his eye. “And do you know what I swore as my doctor/dad sewed seven stitches in my chin?”

“You swore you would only sell…”

“I swore I would only sell quality items, that’s right. You know the story, Teddy.”

“I’ve been here the longest, Boss.” He stared at me, his one eye cracked and the other one glittering in the dim light of the washing room’s single naked bulb.

“You have been here the longest, but you are my worst employee.” I knew better than to stare into his good eye. It was hypnotizing, to say the least. At its worst, the eye could suck my soul into his under-stuffed head. At its best, it reminded me that no matter how much I berated him, his frown never unfrowned itself.

I’d heard enough.

“I’ve heard enough.” I stood up and slammed my fist on the desk. “Get to work! And you puppets,” I swung around to face Ernie, Oscar, and Jiminy Cricket, “get the stuffing out of your ears and start producing, for crying out loud!” I yelled at them all, but Teddy knew. He was second in charge, and he was one of them. He knew, and I turned away from him and allthe others. I was furious with him.

I reached for the handleless door and cut my finger. Bad. There was blood. “Ouch!” Tears welled up in my tycoon-blue eyes. I was six, after all. “Daddy!” My finger went right into my mouth, but blood flowed into it. I was a mess. I reached for the Kermit puppet and shoved my hand up his spineless gullet. I felt woozy. “Daddy…” Could he even hear me? I stumbled out into the main room of the cluttered cellar. It was hard to navigate all of the old furniture that my mother inherited from her own mother, my Nanny. “Daaa…” I fell, and that’s when my story went…black.

I woke up to the rumbling of my father’s VW Bug. I was stretched out in the back seat, my head on the boney lap of my mother. “Grace! Grace, hang in there, baby.” My mother was blubbering, and my dad was driving like his little hooptie was a Formula One racecar. “Hang in there, baby.” My mother was keeping pressure on my finger which was now wrapped up in a towel. The blood had slowed, but it throbbed. It was a pain too great for a baby girl. My mom wanted to take my pain. She felt it, too. She made it hers…as best she could.

The hospital was a spotlight. My eyes couldn’t understand the powerful lights everywhere. All I wanted was to fall back to sleep, but too many adults were poking and sticking needles up my arm. This was the hospital where my father was a resident. Sinai. Like Moses and the commandments. My mother taught me Judaism through chicken stock and broken sobs at the images of the Holocaust. My father taught me Judaism through the hurt and the dying. I had been in this hospital enough as a guest that the nurses all knew me by name. Grace. So shiksa.

Now I had IVs running up and down my good arm, and my bloody hand was on ice and immobilized. I fell in and out of consciousness. I dreamt of Teddy with his collection of colored electrical tape like an African flag holding different bits and pieces of him together. I didn’t name him “Teddy,” of course. It just happened. I found words early. I was a talker at the same time that I was a crawler. But I wasn’t creative yet. I took things pretty much as they were presented to me. Face value. So when my mom said she got me a Teddy, I didn’t question her. “Teddy.” I said it so clearly and with such confidence that the word and the name stuck.

“Teddy?” Mom looked at me, disappointed with herself.

“I left Teddy. I’m sorry Grace.” She stroked my forehead, but I didn’t have the strength to hide my disappointment. “I’ll get Daddy to drive back home. You’ll be here late. Maybe overnight. They want to see the infection improve before they send you home. You’ll need some PJs. Is there anything else besides Teddy you need?” She was trembling as she spoke.

I didn’t need Teddy. I just wanted him. I had been too rough on him at the meeting. I needed to remind him that he is more than an employee. He’s my friend. “Mommy? Could you tell Daddy to let the staff know that I am here in the hospital? I never really ended the meeting.” She leaned over and kissed my forehead.

“Were you tough on them, Gracie? They’re just dolls. They don’t know any better.” She smiled and kissed my cheeks the way the French people do, but the kisses were deep and full of despair. She sat back and grabbed my good hand, counting my fingers under her breath: one-two-three-four-five. Again and again. She tried to smile at me, to soothe me. That’s when it hit me. One-two-three-four-five…. Five on my good hand.

“Get Teddy.” I cried for myself.

“Oh, baby. It was an accident.” My eyes felt heavy with the pain meds. “I’ll get Daddy right now, Gracie.”

I held up the good hand. “It’s Grace, mom. Just Grace’” I could see the despair in her tear streaked face. I thought of the movies about the Holocaust. As terrible as it was, they all seemed to have all of their fingers. “Is it gone, mom?” She looked away. “Mom! Is it gone?” I looked down at the injured hand. What would a count of these fingers reveal?

“Warren!” My father broke away from the doctor with whom he was speaking low and through his own tears. “Warren, you’ve got to get Teddy.”

“Teddy? Now?”

“Yes, now. My baby needs her Teddy.” I felt for both of them, but I knew only Teddy would understand.

He’s known life and loss. And yet he still clings to me with his frown and his one eye. He didn’t have fingers or even claws. Would he notice? No. He wouldn’t care. I needed his obedience and loyalty. And I needed to have someone here in this damn hospital who didn’t feel sorry for me. Besides, Teddy can’t count to ten. He gets stuck at nine, so he would never know.

One-two-three-four….but before I could finish, my eyes closed and I was off to a place where my employees outsold my expectations, and my executive vice president almost smiled. But of course, that’s impossible. He would never smile at me or anyone. It was a perpetual sadness that he felt, a sadness that I think I might understand now better than ever.