The boy says that I am a Triceratops and that I am from a place called Pangaea. He says I lived during the Cretaceous period, but I know this is not true. I know that I am fabric and stuffing, and I was made in China in the year 2004. The boy says many silly things, but I don't mind, I like to listen to him talk. He's very creative. He made me a special necklace out of macaroni at school. I always wear it. I think he should sell macaroni jewelry when he grows up, but he says he wants to be an archeologist. Every day, he tucks me into his backpack, and we go on adventures together. The boy can never stay in one place for long, he has the spirit of an adventurer. When his parents aren't looking, he runs as far as he can. He wants to see everywhere, even the places he knows are dangerous. His curiosity was unquenchable.
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One day, we went to play by the ravine. He set me down beside an old log, and then he ran off to climb the rocks. I never saw him again after that. I stayed there by that old log for days. Dew from the wet grass soaked my fur. I was beginning to think I'd stay there forever. Then the boy's father found me. With a glassy look in his eyes, he picked me up and clenched onto me a little too hard. The boy's father took me home and stuffed me into a cardboard box along with all the boy's other toys. He tossed us into the back seat of his car and drove us to a place called a thrift store.
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Living in a thrift store isn't so bad. I've made many friends here. The rag dolls, McDonald's toys, and headless Barbies are all very nice, but I miss my boy. Sometimes children come to the store and play with me, it's fun, but I don't want them to take me home with them. There's only one home I want to go back to.
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I stayed on that thrift store shelf for twelve years, until one day two teenage boys walked in.
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"I can't believe you forgot our sister's birthday again! She's never going to forgive you for this," the younger boy said.
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"Shut up. It's not like I've ever claimed to be the brother of the year or anything. I'm going to find something, and everything will be fine."
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"She's gonna know you got it at the last minute."
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"How is she gonna know?"
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"She's gonna know,"
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"Whatever!" The older boy carelessly dug through the piles of stuffed animals, throwing several onto the floor. He froze when he saw me and his breath caught for just a moment. He gently brushed his fingertips against my macaroni necklace. When no one was looking, he stuffed me underneath his jacket. "Let's get out of here!"
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"But you didn't buy anything."
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"There's nothing good here."
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"We've barely looked!"
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The older boy practically dragged his brother out of the store. "I don't need to. I can already tell it's all trash."
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"You really are the worst brother ever."
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...
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I quietly seethed as I rested in the sweaty armpit of this boy as he drove home. I did not like this boy, not one bit! He stole me, called my friends trash, and didn't buy his sister a birthday present. I have no idea where we're going. It was so hard to see from under his jacket. I missed my boy more than anything right now. I wish more than anything I could see his face one last time.
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The boy parked the car and trudged into the house. He stomped up the stairs into his room without greeting anyone. He slammed the bedroom door and sat on the bed. He finally removed me from the stinky crevice of his armpit. He absentmindedly fiddled with my macaroni necklace with a far-off look in his eyes.
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I took this opportunity to scan the room. It felt familiar to me, but it was hard to make out because I was currently being held upside down, but then it hit me! This was my old boy's room! It looked so different now, the pastel green walls had been painted deep purple, and all of the drawings of dinosaurs had been taken down and replaced with indie band posters, all the toys were gone. The room was the same, but they'd washed away any memory of my boy. If plush dinosaurs had hearts, mine would be broken into a million pieces.
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A loud knock sounded at the door, and the boy jumped. He stuffed me under the pillows of his bed and rushed to answer the door. I peeked through the cracks to see what was going on.
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A pretty teenage girl holding a gift bag stuffed with pink and teal tissue paper leaned in the doorway.
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The boy frantically fixed his hair, and tried to act suave. "Um, hey, Kayla. How are you doing?"
He wasn't very good at this, but the girl didn't seem to mind.
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She playfully shoved his chest. "Um, hey, Ethan. I'm doing good," she said, poking fun at his tone.
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"You're here early. You know the party doesn't start for another hour, right?"
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"I know, I wanted to hang out with you."
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He took the gift bag from her. "Is this for my sister?"
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Kayla nodded.
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Ethan snatched the card out of the bag and scribbled his name on it. "Great! We can say it's from both of us!"
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She shot him a disapproving glare. "You forgot to get her a present again, didn't you?"
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His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, "Uh, maybe."
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"You're unbelievable. If I didn't know better, I'd say you didn't care about her."
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"I do care." He insisted. "I just lost track of time."
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She cupped his face in her hands. "I know you do, but you have to get your act together, babe."
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He leaned into her touch, savoring the feeling of her soft hands on his rough skin. He said nothing. He didn't assure her that he would remember next time, and he made no promises that he would become a better man, but the gentle kiss he left on her hand was a secret, silent, oath to try to pull himself together for her.
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She pressed his lips to hers and pulled him closer.
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I read many romance novels while I was at the thrift store. I believe this is what humans call kissing. It is a lot grosser than I imagined it would be. It looks wet and unpleasant, but the humans seemed to enjoy themselves.
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They let out amused giggles as they broke apart. Then they started kissing again. I buried my face in the pillows, I didn't want to watch them exchange mouth fluids anymore. I felt a crushing weight sit on top of me, temporarily flattening me like a pancake.
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The girl must have noticed that she was sitting on something because she reoriented herself and reached under the pillows to see what she was smooshing. She took me out and examined me. "Aww. What's this? It's so cute!"
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He took me from her grasp and gently stroked my fur. "Hey, be careful with that! She belonged to my brother."
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"Which one?"
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"George." His voice cracked a little bit when he spoke, like his vocal cords had forgotten how to say the name out loud.
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Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Since when do you have a brother named George? You have too many siblings, I can't keep track of them all."
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"He died twelve years ago."
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She let out a surprised gasp and began stroking his arm. "I'm so sorry to hear that. I had no idea. You've never mentioned him before."
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"No one does. The younger kids don't remember him, and mom and dad would rather pretend he never existed. I guess it's easier for everyone that way."
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"Is it easier for you?"
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He shook his head and squeezed me tightly. Tears welled up in his eyes, ready to spill over at any moment. "It never gets easier. Sometimes, I think I'm over it, but then I fall apart again."
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She tenderly wiped his tears away with her sleeve, "I'm always here if you want to open up about it."
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He nodded solemnly.
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"Can someone come down and help me with decorations!" The boy's mother shouted.
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"Coming!" The boy threw a bottle of water onto his face to cover up the tears, then dashed downstairs.
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...
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I sat alone on the boy's bed for hours. I heard the distant sounds of lively chatter and celebration. It sounded fun. I miss birthday parties. Every year, my boy would have a dinosaur birthday. One time, my boy had a chocolate volcano cake. He tried to give me some, but I can't eat. I still have a chocolate stain on my chin from that day. I wonder if Ethan's sister is having a dinosaur birthday too. I gazed through the bedroom window out at the starry sky. No matter how much changes, the night sky remains the same.
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The stairs creak as steady footsteps approach the bedroom. Someone turns the handle and pushes the door open. I expected Ethan to open the door, it is his room, after all. Instead, his father walks in with an armful of assorted items. He haphazardly tossed the items onto the bed. "Someone needs to teach this boy to clean up after himself." He grumbled under his breath. He froze when he saw me. He looked as if he'd seen a ghost. We haven't seen each other since the day he threw me in a cardboard box and sent me off to the thrift store. He picked me up and frantically inspected me. He paused when he spotted my macaroni necklace. "How did you get here?" he whispered.
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I didn't answer because stuffed animals can't talk.
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He stared at me for a long time. The emotions on his face rapidly shifted from confusion to recognition, to betrayal, but eventually, it ended with heartbreak. He gripped me so hard, I feared my stuffing would pop out. For a moment, I thought he might toss me in the waste bin, so he wouldn't have to bear the sight of me any longer. I would understand if he wanted to throw me away, I can see how much it hurts him to look at me. I don't want to make anyone feel like that. I'm supposed to make people happy. To my surprise, he pulled me in, and hugged me close to his chest. His silent tears dripped onto my fur, but I didn't mind.
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After several minutes, he set me back down on the bed. He reached into his old, tattered, brown, leather wallet and dug through years' worth of old receipts and half-filled punch cards until he finally found what he was looking for. He smiled down at the old Polaroid and leaned it up against my foot. It was a picture of me and my boy! It was from the day we went to The American Museum of Natural History, and saw a real triceratops. He was so happy then. His smile was just as beautiful as I remembered it.
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His father gave me a gentle pat on the head and said, "Thank you for being there for my sons."
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