Blue Bear

(Story contains infidelity and grief)

Saturday Evening

Collin dropped to his knees before the wooden cross. It was one of those shrines people put on the side of the road when there’s been a terrible accident. A memorial to someone’s life. And death. His hands were shaking so violently, he could hardly take the small stuffed bear from the shopping bag and place it among the other mementos, among the candles and flowers and notes – and her smiling picture. It got dark early these days, so no one was in the park at this hour. No one heard him cry out in anguish and pound the ground beneath the cross with his fists.

Sunday

Hannah had had a rough morning with the twins and finally giving in, bundled the girls in puffy jackets. Maybe an hour at the park would calm them down – let her headstrong youngsters expel some of their vivacious energy and let Collin get some rest. Her husband had driven off yesterday morning, suddenly, with no explanation, after reading the morning newspaper. It wasn’t until after dark that he’d finally returned. Without a word, he had crawled into bed, curling into a ball, complaining he did not feel well. Hannah had not questioned him, but today, he seemed no better.

Walking to the park, holding the twins’ hands, Hannah saw a white wooden cross had already been erected on the southwest corner of the community park. Hannah was thankful the accident had happened late Friday night, when no children had been out playing. If she had known about the shrine, she would have taken the girls to the park a different way.

The accident had been on the front page of the local news in yesterday’s paper, Hannah recalled. A horrific car accident. She remembered the shrill sirens two nights ago, the neighbors drawn outside by the commotion, the flashing red and blue lights seen from a couple blocks away. Many times, in the past, Hannah had cautiously driven through this same intersection. It was a two-way stop sign that should have been a four-way. One of those public transportation code enforcements that had slipped through the city council’s cracks.

The victim, a young woman in her early thirties, had presumably assumed the cross traffic was going to stop. According to the newspaper, she had accelerated into the intersection just when a florist delivery van plowed into her driver’s side door. Ironic, really. A florist delivery van. Most likely the slightly wilted flowers at the foot of the cross had come from the same florist. Hannah shook her head at this bizarre thought.

The girls tugged at her hands, pulling her forward, wanting a closer look, and Hannah couldn’t hold them both. “Look, mommy,” they said in unison breaking free of her. They said almost everything in unison. But it was Charlotte who picked up the stuffed blue bear. Carly, born three minutes later, often let her twin start an incident, although Hannah suspected Carly had had the same thought. Both of their attentions were now on the plush bear.

“No, girls. This is a memorial. A shrine. You can’t take anything away from here.”

“But, mommy,” Charlotte whined. “Someone just left this cute bear here.”

“They left it for a reason. It belongs to the girl who … who…”

“Who what, mommy?” Carly and Charlotte asked.

“The young woman in the picture. It says her name was Sylvia. She, well, she died here on this corner in a car crash. Her family and friends, probably, put up this cross for her so they could always remember her. The flowers, the candles, the balloons, and even the blue bear. They are for her. It would be very, very wrong to take anything away from her memorial shrine. Charlotte, please put the bear back.”

“Then can we have a balloon?” Charlotte asked, still holding the bear.

“No, nothing, I said,” and Hannah snatched the bear from her daughter’s hands and laid it back among the other things. She could feel a headache coming on, and squeezing her eyes closed, pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s enough for today. Mommy needs to go home now. It’s about time for lunch anyway.”

Hannah firmly took hold of the girls’ hands to cross the street, ignoring their protests that they hadn’t gotten to play on the swings. They really do need a four-way stop on this corner she said to herself. Cars drive much too fast. But ten minutes later the trio was walking back up the driveway to their home two blocks over.

“Go wash up,” she told the twins, and they skipped down the hall to the bathroom. Hannah went into the kitchen to make sandwiches. In a moment she could hear the girls giggling and the tap water running. She sliced an orange into wedges as the grilled cheese sandwiches browned in the skillet. She filled two small cups with milk and paused. They were still running water and laughing. “You two!” Hannah called, but she knew they could not hear her. She started for the bathroom. “What’s going on in there?” But as she reached for the knob, Charlotte opened the door from the inside. Both girls stood holding out their hands.

“See, mommy. All clean,” and they ducked around her and headed for the kitchen table. Hannah glanced at the small mess they always left in their wake. Dirt smudges on the sink and a crumpled towel on the floor. She shook her head and turned off the light, remembering the grilled cheese was about to burn.

Monday Morning

With the twins in preschool and Collin having reluctantly dragged himself to work, Hannah was loading the dishwasher with breakfast plates when the doorbell rang. Squinting through the peep hole, she was surprised to see a young man standing on the porch with an oversized bouquet of roses. She opened the door.

“Mrs. Hannah Rhodes?”

“Yes.”

“Sign here,” he said, extracting a clipboard from under his fragrant burden, and after she did so, he shoved the extravagant flowers toward her for her to take. “We apologize for the delay, ma’am,” he said. “These were supposed to be delivered late Friday night, and so there is no charge.”

“This last Friday night?”

“Yes, ma’am,” and he tipped his hat. “Our delivery truck was involved in a bad accident on its way here. Maybe you saw the accident on the news? The driver was okay, but I guess the girl in the car, well the girl died. They say she must have assumed cross traffic was going to stop. Anyway,” he continued as if a life had not been lost, “because of the delay, there’ll be no charge,” he repeated.

“The flower van in the accident … it was coming here?”

“Fraid so. Have a nice day.” And he skipped down the steps to his florist van parked at the curb.

Hannah slowly closed the front door and carried the flowers into the kitchen. She laid them on the counter. She filled a crystal vase with tap water. Arranging them carefully, she noticed a little card hidden among the crimson petals.

Happy Anniversary – I’m sorry. Love always, Collin.

Hannah turned the card over, completely puzzled. It wasn’t their anniversary for another three months. And what was he apologizing for? Did he think he missed it?

Last Friday Evening

“What do you mean you can’t see me anymore?” Sylvia demanded.

“This was a mistake,” Collin began, turning to look at her in the passenger seat. He remembered how beautiful, how flushed she had looked not more than an hour ago. He could faintly smell her perfume, now rising stronger as she processed this news. He had swallowed, hesitant, knowing this was going to be hard for him, but more so for her. “You know it, I know it. Boo-bear, we just can’t kid ourselves any longer. We’ve had a good time, didn’t we? But we’re adults. You must have known from the beginning I’d never leave my wife and my girls. The twins.”

They had both been drinking, and in retrospect, not a good time to break it off. She was looking at him in shock and anger, the flush of feminine grace gone completely. Even her sweet perfume seemed to have turned sour. The blazing coals in her eyes told him she had never considered this would happen, that they were in a committed relationship and that he was waiting for the right moment to tell his wife he was leaving her for someone else. But before he realized what her reaction would be, she slapped his face so violently it took all his inner strength not to hit her back twice as hard.

Without another word she had gotten out of the car and slammed the door so violently it rocked from side to side. She strode over to the driver’s window, and like a coward, Collin had quickly rolled it up, not trusting what she’d do next. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, controlled, and so soft that he seemed to have read her lips more than heard what she had said. But he had not mistaken her threat.

“I’ll tell her,” Sylvia hissed through the slightly tinted glass. “I’ll tell your wife all about us.” She said it matter-of-factly, but he could hear the vehemence, see it in her furious eyes, how she was gritting her teeth. She spat on the rolled-up window and strode around to the front of his car, giving him the finger in the bright headlights. Now, more than ever, he wished he had slapped her back and mustered his strongest will not to floor the gas pedal and run her over.

But even as this thought crossed his mind, he was filled with a strange regret.

He suddenly wanted to chase after her, try to stop her, to take it all back. He pictured himself taking her in his arms, calling her ‘Boo-bear’ and she would turn, sobbing into his shirt. He would say he was sorry, that he didn’t mean it, and suggest they go back to the motel and pretend this didn’t happen, continue where they had left off. He put his hand on the door handle.

But Collin just sat there and watched her get into her own car parked under the broken streetlight near the park swings. He knew she was lost to him now. She started her engine and sat there idling. He wondered what she was thinking. Maybe she was calling his wife right this minute, and this thought made his blood run cold again.

Even so, he was pretty sure Sylvia didn’t know Hannah’s cell, and this helped to somewhat ease his fears. They didn’t have a landline, thank god, he thought. Then an idea occurred to him, something he’d seen in a movie once. Maybe he could outmaneuver Sylvia’s spiteful threat. He got out his own cell and dialed the florist around the corner.

“Hello! Secret Garden Florist. How can I help you?”

“Hello, yes, how soon can you get a bouquet of flowers to my wife?”

“You mean, tonight, sir? We close in about fifteen minutes.”

“But you can do it, right? You’re only three blocks from my house.” Collin tried to think of an excuse. “Please, man. It’s our anniversary, and Hannah’s already mad at me for forgetting this morning. I’ve been at work all day and I’m just getting a chance to call you,” he lied.

“Yes, sir. But all we have left today are a bit of this and that …”

“That’s fine,” Collin said impatiently. “Just put something, anything together. Here’s my address and card number,” and Collin blurted out his information.

“Do you want a note to go with that? Maybe Happy Anniversary? An apology?”

“Just get them there within the next half hour. Write what you want.”

Collin disconnected. Sylvia was still sitting in her car with the engine running. Maybe she was crying, trying to pull herself together. What did he care? He was done. He irritably pulled away from the curb and drove the short distance to his house. He planned to head straight for the shower and stay in the bedroom so that Hannah would answer the door when the flowers arrived. All he could do was hope Sylvia hadn’t carried through with her threat, if she even had somehow gotten Hannah's cell.

Monday Evening

Charlotte climbed into bed with Carly and pulled out the stuffed blue bear. The pair giggled and passed the blue bear back and forth to each other. It had been, as always, so easy to fool mama. The children had hidden it yesterday before lunch under Carly’s pillow. They started singing a song.

Collin dragged himself through the front door, knowing it was late, knowing he had missed dinner. When he tried to call Hannah from work, he had hung up before she could answer. He had no idea what he would say to her, anyway. Wanting a beer badly, he strode into the kitchen. A small light was on above the stove, and the counters were clean. On the kitchen table was a vase with a bouquet of red roses. He vaguely recalled ordering flowers for Hannah but couldn’t quite remember why. He plucked the card sitting among the roses and read it.

“Oh, damn. Those idiots.” Then he remembered his lie about it being his anniversary and telling them to write whatever they wanted. He hadn't been thinking straight. He would just tell Hannah they had gotten the message wrong, that he had sent her flowers just because. He'd think of something.

But how was he going to explain his appearance? He knew he must look like crap, unshaven, his eyes swollen from grief. He would just have to get on with his life - be thankful Hannah never knew about the affair. At least there was that much.

Hannah was probably in the bedroom now, and he headed down the hall.

Collin passed by the twins’ bedroom and stopped short at their door. What were they singing? Bursting in, he saw what they were holding.

“Boo Bear, Boo Bear,” they chanted, but they couldn’t think of words beyond this.

Rushing in he threw himself on top of the bed, snatching the blue bear from Carly’s hand. At this moment, Hannah came and stood on the threshold, tying her robe.

"What are you doing with this?” Collin shouted at his shocked daughters. “This is hers. It's hers!"

“Collin! What on earth is going on?” Hannah cried, rushing in. But her husband had fallen to his knees on the floor, hugging the stuffed bear, sobbing like a child. Hannah recognized it as the bear from the roadside shrine.

“I love you, Sylvia, my little Boo Bear! I still love you. Please, forgive me. Forgive me, my darling! Forgive me … it’s all my fault!”