Small Sadie had placed Dopey under her arm as she turned over to try to sleep that night before going into the hospital again. As her fears circled through her, she placed her hand on her chest; she knew this next surgery would only help her weak heart strengthen, but it still scared her. Dopey tried not to cry as she finally passed out for the night.
The next morning Dopey stayed scrunched inside Sadie’s hand as the car took her and her family to the hospital. The harder she squeezed, the more afraid Dopey knew she was … but he also knew that the harder she squeezed, the more she felt better, safer, and loved.
“Mom, Dad, can I take Dopey into surgery with me?”
“As long as Dr. Law says it’s okay, I’m sure Dopey would love to go with you,” Mom answered.
Sadie hugged Dopey tighter, causing a small tear to open a bit more and a bit of his stuffing to fall out. He didn’t care; his job was to protect strong Sadie no matter what. True, the idea of going inside an operating room had scared Dopey, but true to his word, he had stood by her.
“Plus,” he reminded, “you joined our family too due to that operation!” Lenny smiled as Dopey finished the story.
The time at home moved almost slower than at the hospital. At least there, doctors and nurses ran in and out all day and night long; here only the ticking of the clock counted the moments.
The third night at home, Sadie’s pain dwindled enough to allow her to place her new stuffed animals in their new spots. Sadie pointed to the corner, so Michael placed Benedict on a table so he could watch over her as she slept. However, since she had been home Sadie had insisted upon keeping Tess in her bed so that she could seize Tess when the pain flared up; she joked that her cute little grim reaper “killed the pain” and helped her heal. When other new stuffed animals arrived as presents in the past, Dopey never once worried about them achieving the ultimate goal of being in snoozing Sadie’s arms. In fact, he loved to see ones being treated with such love. But Tess bothered him for some reason. Her sharp scythe, her narrowing eyes at the hospital, the fact she was a grim reaper … all these things frightened Dopey. He learned what grim reapers were while his studious Sadie went to school (or when she’d watch movies and television shows about them).
Dopey’s need to stay awake and watch Tess fueled him for hours. However, as the sun peaked up in the East, sneaking in between the curtains and the window frame, Dopey’s body gave out and sleep washed over him. The others in the room trusted Dopey to stay conscious, so they all had settled into the quiet peace of slumber as well … all but one.
One stuffed animal slinked closer to Sadie, ready to end her very life, the miraculous life that never should have survived her numerous surgeries. The heartless creature slithered closer to Sadie, driven by the evil notion that Sadie should have died decades ago and should never be allowed to see another sunny day. Her body, still deep in unconsciousness driven by the pain pills, stirred but never fully awoke. Something covered her mouth and nose, stopping her breath from finding her lungs. Her body began to shake, begging for air, before slowing its fight and conceding with an unconscious whimper.
It was the whimper that awoke Dopey. His eyes snapped open and he saw the black form smothering his sacred Sadie. Without so much as a thought, he pounced across the room, wrapped his arms around the back of its neck, and yanked it from the mattress to the carpet below. Dopey heard Sadie’s familiar light snore return to normal, and the sliver of relief he felt allowed the beast to knock Dopey from its back with a mighty blow. Dazed, Dopey struggled back to his feet and planted himself between the shadowy figure and Sadie’s bed when the truth then hit him, too — he’d been struck by a wing.
Benedict finally turned and faced Dopey, towering over the overmatched dwarf. His eyes were no longer cordial, but rather glowed an ominous red. Moreover, his plush, soft beak was now razor sharp.
“You silly, stupid little man!” Benedict laughed.
“You’ll never touch her again,” Dopey promised.
“Oh really?” the dark bird mocked again. “What was that story you told the others again? About the first time she held you so tightly that your seam popped?”
Before the words were even out of his mouth, Benedict flashed his beak towards Dopey’s stitches. The pain was excruciating and a bit of his stuffing wafted out into the room, but Dopey wouldn’t flinch.
“You’ll never touch her again,” he repeated.
“Actually, that was fun!” Benedict teased. “Thank you! I was just going to smother her, but now that I see how well my beak works I think I’ll stab her! Mutilate her! Leave her bleeding out like she should have died on an operating table decades ago!”
Dopey’s pain was so fierce that it paralyzed half his body, and he had absolutely no clue how he could possibly stop this monster that was twice his size. Still, his words left his mouth without even pausing in his brain first — “You’ll never touch her again. I’ll die before I let you.”
Benedict shrugged. “Sounds like a deal to me!”
The massive bird took a step towards the dwarf and Dopey braced himself. That was when an epic, violent tear shook the entire bedroom. Benedict’s eyes immediately went from glowing red to vacant and blank, and his body fell into two perfectly symmetrical pieces, split straight down the back by Tess’ scythe. She looked past her fresh kill and gave Dopey the same simple nod she’d exchanged with him so many times before. Dopey’s eyes locked with the small reaper until he could finally manage to choke out a few words.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Thank you,” she replied, much to Dopey’s shock. “I couldn’t tell who it was until he made his move, and Sadie was clutching me so tightly that I could barely free myself in time.”
Dopey looked back down at the destroyed evil bird that lay on the carpet between them and noticed that the stuffing — which seemed to ooze out of him — was as dark as his coat. “Black stuffing?” Dopey asked Tess. “Where? How?”
Tess just shook her head. “A demon,” she explained. “Disguised as a stuffed animal.”
Dopey looked back at his saved Sadie and was overcome with emotion. “I guess you were the good one, Tess! I’m so sorry I doubted you!”
Again Tess shook her head.
“Please, Tess, forgive me! I guess I was afraid you were the real grim reaper and you’d come to take my special Sadie!”
For the first time since they’d met in the hospital, Dopey heard Tess laugh. “Yeah, like there’s only one of me! Do you have any idea how much work I have?”
Dopey’s heart, the healed one placed inside him decades ago, skipped a beat. “Are you saying …?”
“Dopey, my dear, I’m not good or bad. Death isn’t good or bad.”
“Are you saying,” Dopey repeated, shuffling his tattered body back closer to his special Sadie, “that you are here to take her?”
Tess looked at Dopey, and for the first time he noticed the warmth in her big, round, green eyes and her stitched smile. “Eventually,” she told him, “but not for a long time. Heck, she and Michael dance at their granddaughter’s wedding!” She poked at what remained of Benedict with her scythe and asked, “Think you can convince the cat to take the blame for this mess?”
Dopey nodded. “He’ll be happy to, once he hears the story. Especially if he gets to chew and claw the body a little!”
“Good,” Tess declared as she turned her back on Dopey and crawled into Sadie’s empty hand. “And now, if you don’t mind, I haven’t slept in days!”
Dopey laughed. “Me neither!”
Tess looked back at Dopey before snuggling up with Sadie. “You did good, little man. Just like you always do. We’ve all admired the work you’ve done over the years keeping us away from this one.”
“Thank you,” Dopey replied. “For sparing her. For saving me.”
Tess giggled, and Dopey couldn’t help but notice that her playful chuckle sounded exactly like his sweet Sadie sounded whenever she giggled. “Hey, it wasn’t just for y
ou and her! Nothing pisses me off more than some jackass trying to circumvent my job and take a life before it’s been written on my list!”
Do you ever wonder happens to the missing socks in the wash? Sadly, this small boy’s sock wasn’t found on laundry day. When it came here to the shop, there was only one, but even a single sock has a tale to tell.
When author E. F. Schraeder brought us this little sock, we knew it had an even bigger tale to tell.
DON’S CLOSET
E.F. Schraeder
“YOU said what to her?” Ely laughed. He raked a large hand through his wavy, brown hair, then knotted it into a loop at the base of his neck. He brushed off a few stuck grains of white sand from his bare shoulders. “You’re a total shit!”
“Look, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Don grinned, pasting his pale arms with sun block. The hair on his arms glistened. “Chicks take that shit so seriously. Who knew?”
“And she didn’t dump your ass? You’ve got the Midas touch, bro. For reals. You’re practically my hero,” Ely said. He patted Don on the back. “Wish I could get away with that,” he added. He pushed his fingers at the base of his neck, rubbing a knot.
Don shrugged. “She digs me. What can I say?”
“Sure that’s it. I’m sure she loved being called a stalker. Fatal attraction jokes just don’t go over like they used to.” Ely nudged his mirrored aviator sunglasses down on the bridge of his nose to look Don in the eye. “Man, you got to at least pretend to be a decent guy. Jackass.” He shook his head, chuckling.
“Whatever,” Don shrugged. “She’s been snooping,” he added. “That doesn’t fly.”
“You didn’t show her the skeletons in your closet yet?” Ely snickered.
“You’re the jackass, man,” Don frowned. “And no. No need for that.” Don slicked back a clump of gelled, black hair behind an ear. “That’s need to know.” His dark eyes flashed with a hint of anger. “You’ve never even seen those,” he added, a sneer on his face. What Ely didn’t know was the truth. Deep in Don’s closet, behind a row of neatly pressed dress shirts, tucked behind his EMT uniform, and a stack of folded khaki trousers, his worst secret hid. And it was alive. Mostly.
***
“Shut that door, Jae!” Don snapped. He slapped his hand in the air toward the closet.
Jae’s straight black hair bounced at her shoulders as she spun to look Don in the eyes. “Why? You got something to hide? What is it?” she asked. She fired questions at him too quickly for response. Still facing him, she poked her fingers deep into the closet, rifling through the neat row of pressed Brooks Brothers shirts. “Whatever could it be?” she asked playfully.
Don’s expression darkened. “I’m not playing. Get out of there,” his voice was slow and stern as it was cold.
“Are you hiding something from me? A present? A ring?” Jae asked. One hand still played on the edge of the door, the other rested on her jutting hip. “Show me!” she squealed.
Don raised an eyebrow, his forehead wrinkled. “Subtle,” he huffed. He smiled then added, “Right. A ring.” His voice was flat. He sat upright, grabbing the plaid boxers from the floor, and slid into them. “I love you and all, but like that’s gonna’ happen.”
Without a word, Don pushed himself up from the bed and moved to Jae.
Don kissed her on the side of the neck. She moaned softly. He set one hand on the closet door, pushing it closed and undid her robe with the other. Then he pulled back from her, staring at their reflection in the bedroom mirror. He pulled a face that landed his expression between menace and mischief.
“Could be a ball gown. Ever think of that?” Don asked. He let out a snicker. “Probably not. That’d ruin your dream wedding, wouldn’t it? Just imagine my fine legs in a pretty white dress!”
Jae rolled her eyes. Then she stared at him hard, her eyes narrowing. “You’re a real prick sometimes, Don,” she said. She knotted the thick robe closed again.
Don slumped into a wooden rocking chair beside the bed, pushing himself back and forth with one toe. He scratched the back of his head with one hand, laughing at her.
“You’re not funny,” Jae snapped. “You know, we’ve been together long enough for me to know your freaky secrets. Whatever they are.” She frowned, her olive complexion darkened as she stared into the chasms of Don’s eyes, like pools of black oil. But no. Oil was all wrong. Oil had a capital value. Don’s eyes held something deeper than that. They were stickier, cruel. Almost hollow.
“Nothing but underwear and socks in there, babe. What’s so interesting about my dirty old laundry, huh?” Don asked.
Jae stepped toward him, reaching her slender fingers into a spot of black fuzz on his chest. She wrapped herself tight in the blue flannel robe she kept at his place, teasing him with a view of her shapely legs from amidst the folds of fabric. “If I’m good enough to spend all these years with, one of these days,” she wiggled her left hand in front of him.
Don rolled his dark eyes. “You keep saying so.” He rapped his fingers on the wooden nightstand in a steady rhythm. “Let’s say we set this aside and have some coffee now, huh?”
***
“What happened that night, man?” Ely asked. He was certain Don’s silence would be the answer. “What’s happened to you since then?” he pressed.
Ely didn’t have to say which night. They’d arrived at the intersection to find a bright red, bent up and mangled kid’s bike. Sure, being a Cleveland EMT meant dealing with brutal scenes all the time. But that didn’t mean it was ever simple. And the kid’s bike wasn’t the worst of it.
The car wrecks at the hairpin Dead Man’s Curve on I-90 alone had injured nearly two hundred people since he’d started in 2009. They’d both cleaned up a fair share of messes without a hitch. Don must’ve seen worse since he’d been at it longer. But that one night felt different to them both. Preventable. Ugly. Tragic.
Ely knew kids’ accidents were always the hardest. Half was all that remained of this poor dumb boy. Half a bike. One torn apart leg with a bloody white sock at the end of it. The shoes were knocked right off his feet. But that bloody sock made Don wince.
Don could barely look. He bit down on his lip hoping the pain would jolt him into reality. He turned away to gather some composure before heading to the body. When he finally moved to it, he hovered over the small figure like an angel or a priest. He gathered up the bits of bloody flesh he could for the autopsy. He touched the sock like a man on a vision quest, touching a sacred object.
When Don turned around, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark pants. Ely saw something he’d never imagined. He watched a tear roll down Don’s face. Plain and simple, Don hadn’t been the same since. He’d gone cold as a corpse. He didn’t laugh as easy or as often, like seeing that dead boy cinched out the little flicker of life that lived in him. It was worse than burnout though, it was like being burned up.
That night, Ely watched Don walk over to the ambulance, then his eyes went back to the scene. Blood coated the pavement in long streaks along the line where the car dragged the kid. The driver probably didn’t know what the hell he’d even hit. Thousands of accidents and the ones at fault were mostly the ones with bruises and scrapes, the ones whose vitals were basically fine.
And Ely knew that’s what they’d say. Always the same things. The words that made him cringe.
Came out of nowhere.
Didn’t see anything.
Just heard a thump.
Thought it was an animal.
Can’t believe this is happening.
That one got him. As if it was happening to them. They were standing. Talking. Being cleaned up and cared for by a team of medics. Somewhere in the mess of it all, that sense of self importance got old. The more he saw, the more he realized that beneath the pretense, most people were clueless, narcissistic, and unfair.
“You okay?” Ely asked again. Day after day. Don never said a word. He pretended everything was fine, but he was going through the motio
ns. No matter how he asked, Ely never got an answer from Don. But he knew something had changed for Don, deep inside him. For the worse.
***
“So, what’s in there?” Jae asked, pouring herself a coffee. She swung her head to nudge toward the bedroom.
Don knew what she meant. The closet. At it again. “Nothing you need to know about.” Don’s eyes were half closed, two sleepy moons sinking into the sea. He held an oversized mug with two hands and blew into it until steam rose up to greet him.
What was in the closet wasn’t so much a secret, as a problem. Not anymore. He had carried home a crumpled, bloody sock from the scene of an accident. Praying and crying did no good. He wasn’t even sure if he meant to take it in the first place. But somehow when he found the damn sock stuffed in his pocket, he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He knew he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. It seemed disrespectful, like spitting on a grave or something. But what was he supposed to do?
Don swallowed a sip of the strong coffee and closed his eyes, remembering the night he brought the damned thing home.
Don knelt on the floor of his bedroom, clutching the remnant in his hands like something sacred. He broke down in tears, sobbing like a child himself and soaking the sock with his tears. Maybe that’s how it started: blood and tears. Prayers and regrets.
Don’s knees burned from the carpet fibers scraping against his skin, he remembered that. What an odd detail. And the silence of the room like a vacuum about to burst in his ears compared to his raging sobs. The burning knees, the bloodied little white sock. The tinny smell of blood from the scene stuck to his clothes. How long had it been since he’d cried like that? Or prayed? He couldn’t quite remember.
That night he stuffed the sock into the back of the closet. Said another long, sobbing prayer. Then he closed the door. The sun was peeking from behind the clouds as it rose, turning the whole sky pink. Don closed the blinds and went to bed, the tears still wet on his cheeks.
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