“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 woode
n chair thought that he must be the smartest, bravest, and most generous bear that their ever was.
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About the Author
M.J.A. Ware, known as M.J. to his friends, lives in the foothills of the Sierra Mountains with his wife and two daughters. When not writing about aliens, monsters and ghosts, he runs a company where he designs award winning video arcades. He’s currently polishing his latest novel, Girls Bite, a paranormal vampire story told from a guy's perspective. He loves to hear from readers and can be reached at
[email protected].
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