Toy Store

By SEAN WU

PART ONE: HIM & HER

He was an old man. Thirty four years old, to be exact. His hair was not falling out, fortunately, but it was turning grayer by the day. It troubled him at first, but he knew he had much more worrisome things to tend to.

Every morning he would rise at 7:00 like clockwork, gently slamming on the circular alarm clock before it even had the chance to chirp. After a hot shower, he would make coffee and cook breakfast. Around this time, his wife would walk over to sleepily embrace him. He loved her brown hair, even if it was knotty in the morning. He loved the freckles beneath her eyes, even if they were big. He even loved her gentle pecks, even if she hadn’t brushed her teeth before. He loved this moment because it was the only moment in the day she was really happy. After the routine kisses, her small smile lowered into something resembling frustration and anger. She was not mad at him, but mad at herself. Mad that she couldn’t have children. She would mope to the shower slowly, leaving him to only imagine her grief.

It had been nearly six months since the doctor gave the two of them the bad news. She was worried that he would leave her the next morning, and he was worried that she would never be the same. Unfortunately, his worries came true. The day after the news, she quit her job as a high school English teacher. Every day after her shower and breakfast, she would just stare out the window. Bird would occasionally flutter by, and maybe a butterfly would too. He brought her tea, but she never drank it. “Try gardening”, he said. She didn’t. “Try knitting”, he said. She didn’t. “How about joining a book club”, he asked. “I don’t want to”, she said. Maybe he should try something, he thought.

Across from his study desk, there was a diploma. UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA, it read in faux Latin. It was a Business degree he had no business having if he wasn’t going to do anything with it. Until he did.

Two blocks down from their house was an empty lot that was formerly a record store. It was close to a grocery store and a sushi restaurant, both places owned by two different college

friends of his. He bought the lot and started renovations on the old store. The miniscule income that they had was whittling away quick, but he didn’t mind. Anything to make her happy again, he thought.

It was a week before the new store was slated to open. Somehow, he kept it a secret from his wife. They didn’t have enough money to buy eggs from the grocer, but his friend gave them enough food to last. He would always hear “It’s on the house, friend” after a desperate rummaging through his empty wallet. It’s not like food really mattered to her though. She didn’t eat much anymore, much to his chagrin. On the morning the store was due to open, he told her about it. “I’ve spent our money to turn the old record store into a toy store”, he said. At first, she didn’t respond. He closed his eyes, expecting a slap across the face. “It was our money, not just yours” she would hiss venomously, before pacing away. Instead she just nodded, swallowing a small forkful of scrambled eggs. He held her hand lightly. “C’mon, let’s go see our store.”

He held her close as they walked down W 10th Ave. She stayed close, even though her mind strayed to distant distances. Eventually he slowed down his footsteps and put his hand over her eyes. “C’mon, we’re not here yet.” So she walked blindly as he prepared the known surprise. When he peeled his hand off her sunglasses, she saw it: the formerly gray building with a giant yellow circus canopy jutting in front, with red tent curtains draping the store windows. The toys out front were all candy colored, and the sounds of never-ending music boxes whirred all around. “We’re here” he said with insecure confidence. He darted his eyes between his creation and her, hoping to see her smile. She didn’t.

Swallowing his disappointment, he managed to choke out “Would you like to go in?” She did not nod yes, nor did she nod no, so he took it as his cue to escort her in. As he walked in, he saw maybe a handful of children, all sprawled out on the floor of the store. One was peeling the pages of a book bigger than his chest, admiring the illustrations and ignoring the text. Another one pushed a wooden car on a carpet that resembled a miniature interstate. Another one chattered softly to his mother, with a puppet on each hand. He darted his eyes between the kids and her, hoping to see her smile. She did. She turned to him, and

whispered a soft “I love you”. It was the first time he heard that in a long time. He smiled.

The store had disappointing returns with its first month, but turned into a mild success by the third and fourth month. She had become an employee at the store, chatting to the children and their parents about anything and everything. She did her eight-hour shift with a smile every day. He loved seeing her, and the parents and their repressed playfulness that had been rediscovered after many years of adult life. She loved the children though. Those dawdling little people that could barely form grammatically correct sentences. In her mind, their innocence trumped any need for them to know formal English, even though teaching the language was her calling. She begged to differ.

Normally she grabbed the edge of the bedsheets delicately, slipping in without any noise. However, on the store’s five month anniversary, she did not slip in gently in that good bed. He was surprised by her energy, shattering the sexual tension that had been present for nearly a year now. “I want to be a mother” she whispered. He was quick to interject the truth, but the desire to let her be was even quicker. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. “Were you gonna say something?” He nodded a no, before a heavy sigh.

He was thirty-six years old now, but looked the same he did two years ago. No longer was there the stress that came packaged with her sadness, and his business was doing well. He stroked his wet post-shower hair in the mirror. He was balding a little, but the amount of gray hairs looked just the same. He walked to the kitchen to see his smiling wife. She was happy, and so he was happy.

PART TWO: HER & ANDREW

No, there was no kid, but she didn’t mind as much. She had accepted the truth a year ago, much to his relief. Besides, they didn’t have enough money to raise a kid the best they thought they could. In her eyes, all of the regular kids that frequented the store were like her children. There was Kevin, who loved the wooden train set in the back, Jamie, always equipped with a coloring book and crayons, and Michael who ran in on windy days

asking for kites, just to list a few. But, there was no kid as memorable as Andrew.

Little, little Andrew. The first time the little jumping bean and his grandparents came in, he knocked over a display of building blocks. She didn’t mind cleaning up after him though. He had made a strong first impression. The next day, only his grandparents came in. They hurriedly bought a jigsaw puzzle before leaving.

On the long dog days of summer, Andrew would dawdle into the store, sometimes licking a melty popsicle that would drip on tiled entrance. She loved helping Andrew find a new jigsaw puzzle, loved watching him grow up. She was there when he got his first twenty-four piece puzzle, and was there the next year when he was working on one-hundred-and-fifty piece puzzles. He never took them home; instead he bought the puzzles and built them in the store, next to the small puppet stage. When she wasn’t helping customers, she would help Andrew with the cardboard mosaics. Andrew was at the toy store almost every day of his elementary school summers.

One day during the summer before fifth grade, she asked Andrew why he didn’t bring his friends over to the store. “I don’t have any friends”, he said softly. She suddenly regretted her question. “But I’m your friend, right?” she asked. Andrew smiled. “You’re my best friend.” They finished the rest of the one-thousand piece puzzle before close.

She was forty years old now. She used to be afraid of looking at herself in the mirror because she thought she was ugly. In reality, when she was happy, she radiated a warmth that was infectious. She had beautiful insides, and even after forty years on Earth, she was still beautiful. He thought so too. “But aren’t you too old to be Andrew’s best friend?” She nodded, but she liked the feeling of being loved. She knew that Andrew loved her like a mother, not some ‘cougar’, which he thought. “Are you interested in trying anything new?” he asked. “What do you mean?” “Isn’t it time you went back to teaching?” He was right. She had been working at the toy store for many years now, and she knew the job wasn’t challenging her enough. But, she knew that children were her calling, not high schoolers. “The high school

is looking for an English teacher”, he said before sipping his coffee. “Ninth grade. That’s what you taught, right?”

So she tried for the job at her old school, which she got back very easily. After years of talking to kids about action figures and stuffed puppies, high school was a shock. Classroom chaos was common and disruptions were daily. Many times she resorted to the depths of her mind, where she imagined her slotting jigsaw pieces with Andrew. He was in middle school now, she thought. He crossed her mind many times a day. Her lectures and teaching was lackluster because of these mental retreats, but somehow, she held her class together by the school year’s end.

Even though the students got summer break, the teachers had to stay at school for an additional week. They filed paperwork and had droll meetings, which bored her. Once her school year ended, she hurried to the toy store to meet Andrew. However, he was not there. Maybe he’s with his friends, she thought. This day would come eventually, she thought. So she left the store.

She spent that summer working on her curriculum. No longer would her presentations be mediocre. By the time she had completed all the Powerpoints and worksheets to her liking, the school year had come back. She had hardly thought about Andrew, so she suddenly got worried about him. Where is he now? He’s due to start seventh grade, she thought.

Andrew was now due to start ninth grade. Though she did not know where he lived (or if he even lived in Vancouver still), she assumed he was going to be in her ninth grade English class. When she glanced at the attendance sheet on the first day, however, he was not listed. He’s just at another high school then, she thought. Maybe he’s no longer in Vancouver. I never got to say goodbye to him, then, she thought. She then carried on with attendance as if nothing happened.

PART THREE: HIM & ANDREW

Her last day of school (still a week after all the students left) was the night before her forty-fifth birthday. He had been making money investing in real estate, so he told her he was able to afford a special surprise. The subject of children had barely crossed their conversations for the past few years, but the words ‘experimental artificial fertilization’ excited and worried her.

He emphasized the experimental aspect of it all, but she was certain that she wanted to try. Teaching had not filled the motherhood void that working at the toy store had. So, with the opportunity to become a real mother, Andrew didn’t even cross her mind once that summer.

According to the doctor (the same one that broke the bad news to them so many years ago), the fertilization and injection was successful. Within nine months, the couple would become a trio. Although they were happy together for so many years, now they were truly happy. There was an intangible sense of fulfillment that had been filled.

Three months later, however, the real estate market crashed. He planned on selling the homes soon, but now it was too late. The houses he owned (and had rented to many people, such as the grocer’s son) had now plummeted in value. His hair began graying more before falling out. At a school open house, people asked her if he was recently diagnosed with cancer. “No”, he said. “I’m just balding.” “It’s just stress”, she said. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve still got our kid. And we’ve got each other. And, I love you. That’s what counts, right?” He nodded respectfully.

Every morning she would rise at 6:00 like clockwork, gently sliding her phone alarm off before it had the chance to blare. Around this time, he would walk over to sleepily kiss her good morning. She loved his head, even if there was no longer any hair on it. She loved his eyes, even though the majestic blue had been replaced with veiny reds darting around his iris, representing another terrible night of sleep. She even loved his gentle pecks, even if she knew he did this out of routine, not out of love. She loved this moment because it was the only moment in the day he was happy. After the routine kisses, his small smile lowered into something resembling frustration and disappointment. He was not upset with her, but mad at himself. Mad that he ruined their finances. He would mope to the shower slowly. She understood his feeling of loss. It wasn’t a feeling of grief. But it would eventually get replaced by grief.

It was the day of the third ultrasound, and it was expected that they would find out the baby’s gender. “Would you like to come?” she chirped. “No, I’m fine” he said. He was staring out the window, eyeing a butterfly. “Those beautiful creatures don’t

stay long enough” he sighed. “Suit yourself” she said, before leaving the house. She never came back.

He only heard from the doctor what happened. As the ultrasound was happening, the doctor noticed something weird. The baby’s heart rate was rapidly dropping for no explicable reason. “Let’s try a different machine” he said. When everything was set up, the heart rate was even lower. “I have no idea what was going on” he said. “Let me get another machine”. By the time he carted out the second machine and pushed in the third, his room had two dead people in it: her and the unborn child. “I have no idea what happened” said the doctor. “I’m so sorry”.

After a lengthy investigation, the medical company responsible for the experimental fertilization presented him with a check. He had enough money to never work a day again in his life, but he didn’t care. There was no love in his life. He took a job as a clerk at the toy store because he thought it was the only way he would keep his sanity. There were many single parents that came to the store with their kids, but none were like her. He tried his hardest to be as good at the job as his wife was, but he lacked the passion. He loved the kids, or at least the idea of loving them.

Years passed. The store was not as successful as it was back when she did clerk duties. There was a twentieth anniversary sale at the store, not only to celebrate the store’s age, but as an effort to bring the store’s sales back into the black. So far, things were looking pretty bleak. He was a lonely man, not even good enough for the company of customers. He was now a grouchy man, let down by life because dreams he had so many years ago that were promised to him were now impossible. He could write the script he was sleeping on, or try hiking, but he lacked any passion to try either. Instead, his life revolved between opening and closing the store, and sleeping. She entered his dreams but always left before he woke up.

She would be turning fifty five on the day Andrew walked into the store. Trim, button-down shirt wearing Andrew. He walked in holding the hand of a kid that looked a lot like the young Andrew that his wife fell in love with so many years ago. “He’s my nephew”, he said. “Cute kid”, he said. “Where’s your wife?” asked Andrew curiously. His eyes darted around the store as they

filled with nostalgia. “She’s…”, the man felt his throat suddenly dry up. His lips trembled rapidly, almost microscopically. “She would be fifty-five today” was all he could muster out. Andrew looked at him with complete understanding, inhaling nervously. The man reached for Andrew’s hand on the other side of the cash register counter. “She loved you. She would be so proud of you.” Andrew smiled. “Where are your jigsaw puzzles?”

The man left the cash register to put up the ‘Sorry we’re closed’ sign up, as Andrew peeled the plastic off of a fresh puzzle box. “Your wife and I completed hundreds of these” said Andrew. The man smiled. “C’mon”, Andrew gestured to his nephew. “Have you ever done one of these?” He nodded a little no. You’ll love this. A little smart bugger like you will figure this out quick.” said Andrew he laid down twenty-four cardboard wedges on the carpet. The man watched Andrew and his nephew construct the puzzle; they finished it quickly. The kid’s so innocent, he thought. He doesn’t know what heartbreak feels like. But he’s happy, he thought. So he was too.