A Mother Scorned

I DIDN'T INTEND TO kill Teddy. Sure, I had motive (hated him), means (trusted to my care), and opportunity (no one else in the house), but really and truly, it was an accident.

I suppose the worst thing about his tragic end was his head coming off in the dryer. There was no way a skilled seamstress could reattach his decrepit little noggin, much less a didn't-know-what-to-do-with-a-needle woman such as myself.

I was much better in the corporate world where I could make grown men cry and strike fear into the hearts of secretaries. Josephine Jones, Professional Bitch. That was me. But, after a year, I was getting used to the world of the housewife. Since my husband was long gone, I guess I was a houseperson. Whatever. It wasn't a bad life.

When Maggie came home from school that afternoon, I sat her down on the couch. "Teddy didn't make it."

She looked solemn and wise, as if she knew Teddy would perish on Laundry Day.

"It was the washer, wasn't it?" she asked.

"Dryer."

Her heart-shaped face and wide blue eyes reminded me of her daddy. He'd been a good husband, a loving father…at least he had until that messy business last year with a blonde named Lolita (no, I'm not kidding), a Caribbean cruise, and the discovery of some pictures on the Internet. Ted had disappeared. And I had left my job as vice president at a marketing firm to come home to Maggie. She'd had the nameless bear since she was a baby, but she named it Teddy the day I told her Ted was never coming home—not if he didn't want to face life in prison and, worse, a pissed-off wife. The police figured he was in the Caribbean with Lolita. They still searched for him, but I'd given up. I knew he wasn't coming home.

"How was first grade today?"

"Same as always." She sighed. "Can we bury Teddy?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

We went to the kitchen, the resting place of two-pieces Teddy. I got out the duct tape and attached his ratty head to his ratty body. I was glad Maggie wasn't too upset about the departure of her dear friend. It meant she was ready to move on and maybe…just maybe she would believe saying good-bye to Teddy was the same as saying good-bye to Ted.

Knowing my daughter the way I do, I figured burial was imminent so I had the shoebox ready. I stuffed the bear inside, put on the lid, and handed the cardboard coffin to Maggie. "Do you want me to wrap it? We have some PowerPuff Girls paper left from your birthday."

She shook her head.

We proceeded to the backyard. I grabbed a spade from the garden shed and dug a hole. Maggie placed the box inside then we both covered it up.

"Do you want to say a few words?" I asked.

She nodded and stared at the mound of fresh dirt. "He was a good teddy and a bad teddy. Most teddies are."

"Amen," I murmured.

"He needed to get clean, but instead he died."

"But he died clean."

"Mommy!"

"Sorry."

Copyright © 2005 Michele Bardsley