Evenfall

Stuffing

Today (Afternoon)

"Do you recognize the house?" Abel asked as they cruised down the street, peering at the stylized metal numbers on porches and mailboxes. He looked down at his phone, resting precariously on his lap with the address pulled up to check before adding. "It should be on the right."

Theo mutely shook his head. All the houses looked the same to him. They had large manicured lawns and long blacktop driveways lined with boats or extra cars under large covers. Most of them looked to have been built around the same time, with varying brick structures that adhered to the same general cubic principles and had similar additions with cream-colored siding as though those had all been constructed around the same time, too.

He could not tell which one was his aunt's. But the street did feel familiar, like something out of a movie scene that he saw so long ago he could no longer remember the movie. Or like déjà vu—certain he had been here and done this before, despite knowing he had not. Except he had gone to his aunt's house for holidays and birthday parties when he was younger. There were cousins around his age, if he remembered correctly.

"That should be it," Abel palmed the wheel, easing them to a stop along the curb in front of a house that looked much the same as all the others. It had pretty purple flowers in the front garden bed and a big, drooping maple tree in the center of the lawn. Bird feeders hung from the branches above a bench and bird bath.

"You shouldn't hang bird feeders from trees because then you're just feeding the squirrels," Theo recited.

"Is that so?" Abel shifted the car to park and pulled his keys from the ignition. "What if the squirrels are hungry?"

Theo hummed and rubbed his shark's fin. The déjà vu grew stronger around him, squeezing his vision and making him feel stuck between two times. If it squeezed hard enough, he might pop right into the memory. Maybe his parents had this exact conversation about bird feeders when they visited this house.

"You ready to go?" Abel unbuckled.

Theo pursed his lips. "Can I bring my shark?"

"You can do whatever you want to, Teddy. If you want to stay in the car, I'll just go get the stuff for you."

Teddy. That's right. He was trying to restuff himself. To become a soft, cuddly Teddy Bear instead of a limp, forgotten rag. Gathering all the stuffing that Ken had plucked out of him was a good place to start. And reconnecting with his family was one of those things that got plucked away. His parents were dead, now no more than déjà vu—memories he could not entirely trust. Each time he thought of them struck a chord of guilt in his chest. But he could say hello to his aunt.

"I came all this way," Theo unbuckled and popped open his door. "She's expecting me."

"Okay," Abel followed him out of the car and up the driveway, past the flowers handing on the porch, to the clean, crisp white door. There was a little brass knocker, which Theo began to reach for, but Abel caught his hand and redirected it toward a doorbell instead. Theo blushed and thanked him for correcting his mistake.

Abel made a face at that. "No mistake," he assured Theo, "Just the doorbell is easier to hear."

Then the door swung open, and a middle-aged woman who barely came up to Theo's nose peered out at them. She had silver hairs and a pudginess that Theo did not remember, aged nearly two decades since the last time he saw her, but it was most certainly his aunt. He wondered if his mother would look like this. If his mother had been that short. He could never remember being taller than her, even when he went to college.

"Theodore?" she asked, looking between him and Abel.

"Aunt Dolores?" Theo asked.

There was another moment of stunned silence, even though all of them had been expecting this meeting, and then she smiled and beckoned them inside. "Yes, yes. It's been so long. My how you've grown, but you're the spitting image of your mother, God rest her soul."