Suadade: A Short Story Collection

Two To A Room

Packing up the boxes to her childhood room feels surreal. She had already gotten rid of nearly all of her stuffed animals before this point, the only ones that remained were a stuffed dog her father had given her one Valentine's day and her baby Teddy bear. She picked up the bear delicately. For being the same age as her, its fur hadn't lost its shine or soft texture. She runs her hands softly along its head, imagining herself the same size as the bear. She places it in an empty box, sitting up against the sides. It looks back at her, the dark, plastic eyes a window for her childhood soul.

A knock on the door breaks their eye contact.

"Come in!"

"Hey sweetie," Her mother peeks in through a crack in the door. "How's it going in here?" She looks around the room to see piles of clothes thrown about and boxes all over her bed and desk. "It looks like a tornado threw up in here. Do you need some help?"

She shakes her head, "No, I should be good. It's just a lot of stuff to pack in such a short amount of time. I had more shit than I thought."

Her mom lets out a chuckle, "You actually have less shit than I thought! You should've seen how long it took us to pack up the rest of the house."

Her mom and dad had started the packing while she was away at college. As her dad crept up on the age of 65, he was getting ready to retire. Little did she know, that meant selling everything and moving to a new state.

"I can imagine that it took forever, you guys kept so many of our random projects over the years." Her and her sibling had delved into the prospect of art starting at such a young age. They found that the colors and textures soothed any anxieties that managed to build up in their small bodies. It had taken her parents weeks to go through all of their projects and toss what had lasted far too long and boxed up the art that had been framed.

"Yes, it did. Okay, I was just checking in," She hovered over the door for a second more before slowly beginning to close it. "Let me know if there's anything we can do."

Her parents had been hovering over her for the past almost a year. After her third visit to the ER, it seemed they had decided that she needed a closer watch and more aid with her daily tasks. This was not necessary, however, since her disease wasn't consistent or even all that terrible. The flares were not great, but it was nothing that was going to kill her any time soon. She looked back in the near empty box where her teddy bear now lived, and closed the top.

...

Her boyfriend glared back at her from across the bed. They had been fighting more and more often now, almost bringing the relationship to an abrupt end more times than she could count. She couldn't even recall what started the fight this time, but it ended as it usually did: her sex drive wasn't high enough for him and he has no idea how to be supportive for her. They both hold out strong for a while, biting back vile words that they wish to spew, knowing it will only hurt the other.

He was the one to break the silence this time, "Do you think you could do better than me?"

"What?"

He repeated with a monotonous tone, "Do you think you could ever find another boyfriend who's better for you, than me?"

"No," she said, as strongly as she could muster. Lately she didn't know if that was actually true, her days start and end with tears, more often that not caused by something he had done.

He looks at her back with tears starting to well in his eyes, "Are you lying?"

She hates when he says this. She had lied to him before, mostly to avoid the repercussions of his bad temper and to avoid getting into an argument such as this one. Though now every time she's home later than she said she would be, he takes it as a direct attack and blames her for being a liar. She gritts her teeth, "No."