The Little Wooden Chair -or- The Most Unlikely Hero

by MJ Ware

  At first, Maggy tried to push the door the rest of the way open. But the chair’s legs were wedged well under it, keeping the door from moving. She had to close the door to get the chair out from under the bottom of it. When she had done this, the little chair saw something he'd never seen before, a sparkle in Maggy's eye.

  She closed the door. Then, leaning her little wooden rocking chair back, she slid both rockers under the base of the door. She did this very slowly, deliberately, and with great intensity, just as you might check to make sure your door was locked if you heard a strange noise outside. She took hold of the door handle with both hands and yanked back as hard as her arms could.

  Neither the door nor the chair budged. Two more times she tried to open it. On her last try, she pulled so hard she lost her grip and fell backwards. Fortunately, her teddy bear was behind her and broke her fall. The chair thought it was smart of him to have sat directly behind her.

  Maggy got up, thanked her teddy bear by giving him a hug, then, with lots of effort, pulled the chair’s rockers out from under the door. The rockers had two small dents where the bottom of the door had pressed into the wood. Still, the chair didn't mind as he had lots of dents and scratches and this new pair didn't smart much, anyway.

  Maggy opened the door and peered around the house. It looked vacant, except for the television. Both Maggy and the chair knew by the soap on the TV that her aunt was sitting in the recliner—her small frame concealed by its large back.

  Maggy waited for a commercial and then ran up to her aunt, who reached over and gave Maggy a kiss. Maggy’s aunt always gave Maggy a kiss when she came and another when she left. Watching Maggy’s reaction, the chair thought that a kiss might be a way of showing someone you love them.

  “Maggy, what happened to your face, you fell, didn’t you?” It looked to the little chair that Maggy was about to speak, but the next moment the commercial ended and her aunt turned back to watch TV. Maggy knew better than to bother her aunt when her shows were on.

  #

  That night her mother and father came home at the same time. It was the only time the chair could remember them entering the apartment together. Her parents brought fast food and even a kid’s meal for Maggy. This was the first kid’s meal Maggy had seen, except for on TV. She was delighted when she found out it came with a toy. She got a doll-sized plastic purse, but it broke when she tried to open it.

  Maggy’s mother sat down on the old couch by the window. “Maggy, honey, come sit by your mama. I’ve missed you.”

  Hesitantly, Maggy approached her parents. Her father sat on his recliner. Maggy sat down next to her mother on the sofa. They all watched TV as they ate. The chair could vaguely remember them sitting around the TV as a family a long time ago, but couldn't remember exactly when.

  After dinner, Maggy went directly to her room and closed the door. She took the chair and, leaning it back, slipped the rockers as far under the door jam as possible—which was only an inch or two. The little wooden chair was not sure if he could keep anyone out of the room, but if called upon, he would certainly try.

  Maggy then sat on the chair with her dolly, but because its rockers were stuck under the door, the chair couldn’t rock. So, she rocked her body softly back and forth as she sang a lullaby to her dolly and bear. The chair thought she had the sweetest voice he'd ever heard. He missed rocking Maggy and Dolly, but he knew his task, to guard the door, was much more important.

  That night there was no fighting or yelling and Maggy slept sounder than the chair had seen her do in quite some time.

  The next day, Maggy’s mother spent the entire day at home. Maggy didn't seem to really like having her mother home because her mother did not approve of Maggy making her own meals, though she didn't make them for her, either.

  Maggy stayed in her room most of the day and made a tent by putting her little chair on its side and covering it with her blanket; there were several holes in her blanket through which light filtered in. Maggy seemed to have a great time playing campout with her dolly, teddy and the chair.

  That night Maggy’s father came home with a six-pack of beer. Maggy stood at her door watching intently as her father gave her mother a kiss.

  “I see you got a six-pack,” her mother said, shaking her stringy blonde hair.

  “But I got you a candy bar. You like chocolate, right?”

  “Of course I do.” Maggy’s mother took the bar of chocolate and gave her father a faint kiss on the check. Maggy looked up expectantly, like she hoped he might pull out a second chocolate bar—he didn’t.

  The chair wondered if bringing home chocolate bars was a way to show someone you loved them.

  When Maggy awoke the next morning, her mother had already thrown out her father’s bag of empty beer cans. Maggy's mother could be heard in the shower.

  Maggy took the bag out of the trash and looked inside, apparently for a second candy bar. She couldn’t find one. She double-checked as if wondering what could have happened to it.

  After a couple of days, it became apparent that her father brought home just one candy bar a day and her mother always seemed to get it. It's surprising how something little like a chocolate bar can make life seem so much better when you don't have much of anything, and how not having one can make things seem so much worse.

  Chapter 7

  It was another quiet morning. Maggy had just come out of the bathroom carrying her dolly in her right hand, like a baby, and her teddy bear in her left. She hardly ever put them down. The chair noticed that the old bear was swinging about as Maggy carried him. He thought the bear must enjoy rocking back and forth, after all, the chair certainly did.

  He also noticed there was something in Maggy’s right hand. A chocolate wrapper.

  Maggy’s mother had not come home last night and so Maggy had taken the candy bar for herself. Carefully, she hid the empty wrapper deep inside the kitchen trashcan. Trash fell out and landed on the floor. She didn't pick it up as it was just joining the small pile that was already there. The chair wondered if it was wrong to steal a candy bar if you never had enough to eat.

  He had seen her hide food wrappers in the trashcan before. If her parents found out she'd eaten the last of anything it usually meant a swat on the rear. Maggy was always trying to stuff some bag or can into the trash bin where it wouldn’t be noticed.

  Maggy got her daily exercise, the way she usually did when no one was home, by jumping on her bed. Even though her bed wasn’t very springy, she still enjoyed jumping up and down on it. As usual, she carried her dolly in one hand and had her teddy swinging in the other. Dolly seemed to be having a great time, but not the bear. He didn’t seem scared or frightened, just very serious. He had worked himself into a steady back and forth movement in time with Maggy’s jumps. The chair found it unusual to see someone concentrating so hard on having fun.

  After a couple minutes of this swinging, there was a sound that stopped everyone in their tracks. At first the chair wasn’t sure what it was; it sounded almost like the creak of a floorboard. Then suddenly he realized what had happened. The stitching on the old bear’s arm had torn. Maggy immediately lifted him up to have a closer look. Sure enough, there was a tear in his seam about an inch long.

  The chair felt very sorry for the bear. Sure, he had done it to himself with all his vigorous swinging. If the chair didn’t know better, he would have thought the old bear had ripped his seam on purpose. But he knew none of the adults would fix him.

  Maggy began to cry, though very quietly. She patted the bear softly on the shoulder and then wiped her tears. With his arm down, the rip in his seam really wasn’t noticeable at all. After that, Maggy made them take turns when she jumped on her bed, always securely holding one of her friends at a time with both hands.

  ***

  Maggy sat on her bed nibbling on a pickle and ketchup sandwich when the front door opened. She covered her food with her blanket and looked up, expecting to see her mother. However, tonight it
was her father who had come home first. Maggy seemed only slightly surprised; her father, on the other hand, looked taken aback.

  “Maggy, where’s your mother?” his greasy hair swung around wildly as he looked about.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “What do you mean, I-don’t-know? Has she been home at all today?”

  The chair stood poised. He decided if Maggy’s dad reached for her he would lunge right at him.

  “I’ve been in bed all day. I’m sick.”

  “Sick. Well, don’t get your germs on me,” he said as he turned and headed to his TV and battered recliner.

  The chair was stunned; he had never heard Maggy lie. Normally, when she didn’t want to tell the truth she just kept her mouth shut. Still, the little chair didn’t blame her. As Maggy closed the door and slid the chair’s rockers under it, the chair thought to himself perhaps it is okay to tell a lie if it protects you from being hit by someone so much bigger than you.

  It was quite late and Maggy’s mother had not yet come home. The room was dark except for the familiar band of flickering light from the TV. Maggy’s father had long since passed out. The chair listened to a late night comedian who was telling bad jokes when he felt a small, warm hand on his back. It was Maggy; quietly she moved him back and then carefully opened the door.

  Sure enough, Maggy’s father sat passed out in the recliner. Maggy tip-toed towards him, for a second the chair wasn't sure what she was doing, then it became clear. She was looking for a chocolate bar. Slowly, silently, she took the beer cans out of the paper bag until she located it. She didn’t dare put any of the cans back in. In fact, she didn’t even turn around. She just slowly stepped backwards toward her room with her prize in hand.

  Once in the room she used the chair to re-secure the door and tore into the chocolate bar. The chair couldn't see because of the lack of light, but it sounded like she ate the entire bar without taking a breath. And even though it was dark, he could hear her licking the wrapper and knew she had a smile on her face. The chair had no idea what a chocolate bar tasted like. But hearing Maggy devour hers filled him with warmth. This must be what it feels like to eat a chocolate bar, he thought.

  Chapter 8

  The next morning Maggy awoke looking not quite as hungry as the she did when she hadn't had a chocolate bar, but she did have something of a problem. Her father had already left for work, but her mother was home. She could hear her in the shower. The empty chocolate wrapper still lay on the floor. She had to dispose of it so her mother wouldn’t find it. Maggy picked the wrapper up and proceeded to remove the chair from under the door. However, just as she did, the shower stopped.

  The chair knew Maggy’s mother had an annoying habit of walking around the house dripping wet, clothed in nothing but a towel. Maggy would have to be fast if she was going to get to the kitchen and bury the wrapper in the trash before her mother stepped out of the bathroom. The chair held his breath, expecting her to make a dash for the trashcan.

  Instead of heading towards the kitchen, Maggy went back to her bed. The chair wondered what she was going to do with the wrapper. There was no place to hide it in her room. Her blanket hid her dinner plate from last night and all the drawers in her dresser were missing or broken.

  Her mother entered the living room. The only other place to hide the wrapper was in the clothes pile. Her mother rarely washed clothes so it would almost certainly go undetected there. Maggy thrust the wrapper deep inside the pile. The chair thought it would be safe there, at least for a while. Later she'd have to retrieve and hide it in the trashcan.

  “Maggy, bring me your dirty clothes. I’m going to do a load of washing.”

  Maggy’s big round eyes darted to the pile of clothes. What would she do now? She glanced around her Spartan room franticly. Then someone caught her eye. It was the old wise bear. He was sitting in bed leaning against the wall with his arm over his head so you could clearly see his torn seam.

  “Come on now, don’t keep me waiting. Mommy's got somewhere to be.”

  Maggy dug out the wrapper, crumpled it up and quickly, but delicately, and put it into the opening under the bear's arm. Then put his arm back down. No one would ever guess there was a candy wrapper hidden there.

  Maggy hastily picked up her clothes and ran out of the room. The old bear had given her the perfect hiding place. The little wooden chair thought that he must be the smartest, bravest, and most generous bear that their ever was.

  Chapter 9

  The next few weeks, things continued as usual. Maggy’s mother came and went at all hours. Her aunt would come over to watch her shows every few days, and sometimes bring dinner or groceries. Maggy’s father yelled a lot and Maggy tried to steer clear of him, usually by hiding in her bedroom.

  Her father gradually began drinking more and more. The little chair thought that alcohol must taste very good indeed for anyone to keep drinking it even when it made him violent and pass out.

  One night Maggy and the chair awoke from a dead sleep by the sound of her father yelling. This wasn't too unusual, but lately seemed to be happening more often. And unlike most nights, tonight he didn’t stop; he just kept yelling. They weren't sure what he was yelling, though, he was using words that the chair did not know, nor want to know the meaning of.

  After a minute or two of yelling, the little wooden chair started to wonder if Maggy’s father had gotten hurt. He hoped Maggy wouldn't wonder the same thing; she was very caring person and might go out to check on him. While he was worrying about this something far worse happened. Suddenly the chair felt a push at his back; her father was trying to get in.

  “What the–,” was all he could make out. Her father pushed and yelled and then pushed some more.

  The little chair held on with all he had. He knew her father was much stronger than he was, but the little chair had leverage on his side—he hoped it would be enough. Still, he was horrified to see the door, ever so slightly, slide open.

  A small sliver of light raced across the room. The chair could see Maggy huddling in the corner. Face buried in her blanket, holding her dolly and teddy tight.

  The chair redoubled his efforts. He pushed back with all his might. Just when he thought the door was going to give way, the pushing stopped. There was a soft crash as her father slid to the floor—yelling replaced by snoring. He still leaned against the door, but now that her father was passed out, the chair could easily hold his weight.

  The chair was relieved. He looked over again at Maggy; she hadn’t moved. Even after several minutes she sat perfectly still. The little chair wanted to go over and comfort her, but he couldn’t move or he might wake up her father. Besides he thought, Teddy and Dolly are softer and much more comforting than me.

  Exhausted, the chair shortly fell asleep. He awoke much later than usual the next morning. Maggy was still asleep, still huddled in the corner. The chair could feel that her father was no longer passed out against the door. He hoped he had left the house. Soon Maggy woke up. Removed the chair from under the door jam and went about her normal routine.

  When Maggy sat on the chair to tie her shoes, the chair realized just how tired and worn out he was. His rockers were not only sore, but had sections of varnish missing and even wood stripped where the door had pressed against them. The chair didn’t mind the discomfort, he was just glad he had helped keep Maggy safe.

  That day no one came home. Maggy fixed herself a mustard sandwich for lunch, but there was nothing except potato chip crumbs for dinner.

  She took three candy wrappers out from the teddy bear's torn seam and carefully licked the remaining chocolate off them. Then wrapped them in tissue paper and placed them carefully in the middle of the overflowing trashcan.

  That evening the chair desperately hoped no one would come home. It fantasized, as it often did, that Maggy’s parents never came back. That her aunt would come by a couple times a week with food and chocolate bars and that Maggy, the chair, her dolly, and Te
ddy could all take care of one another.

  He even imagined that he had been moved in front of the TV, so he could see well as hear it. Alas, this fantasy was soon shattered when her father came home.

  “Maggy, come here,” her father said as he slammed the door shut. The chair knew that she would have to go. She couldn’t ignore him, it looked like he had just started drinking—he wasn’t even slurring his speech yet. Slowing Maggy got up from her bed with her dolly and teddy in hand and walked into the living room. As she went by, the chair could see the same look of concern in all three of their faces.

  “Got you a candy bar. Chocolate's your favorite, isn’t it?”

  Maggy said, “Thank you,” and stood around just long enough for her father to turn the game on, then went directly to her room.

  After a while, he started yelling and hollering at the TV. This was expected, but what happened next was not: he turned the TV off. He continued to yell and curse, but sat in the dark for several minutes.

  As soon as she returned to her room, Maggy closed the door and put the rockers of the chair under the door jam. The chair could hear him yell, but there was no light coming from under the door. He was sitting alone, hollering in the dark. The chair found this particularly frightening, as if a violent hurricane raged right outside one’s window.

  Without warning the chairs worst fear came true—he felt a push at the door. He was still sore from their fight the night before, but was determined not to give up.

  “Maggy open this damn door right now!”

  He pushed and pushed.

  The chair wouldn't budge. The door started to crack and pop—it seemed as if the door was splitting in two.

  “Do you hear me—open up right now!”

  Slowly, the door slid open. First, just a crack, then a little more. The little wooden chair knew tonight he would lose. He looked over at Maggy. From the front window, muted light spilled into the room. The chair could just make her out, huddled in the corner. He didn’t know what he could do. Try as he might, he couldn’t hold the door much longer.