Remembering The Future

The boy, who had recently turned twelve, tasted a hint of bitterness in his cake amongst the sea of sweetness. In front of him the square cake, with a slice that had been cut off, had candles on its surface that spelled his name, “Leo,” and a one candle and a two candle. The boy stared at the candles as he ate his slice, his parents talking from across the rooms, his mother at the dining table with him and his father in the living room gazing at the television. He was not listening much to what they were saying. Perhaps it was the occasional comment about the score of the basketball game, or the happenings of an everyday career. All of it was tuned out as the boy ate his cake. That was until a comment was aimed at him, his father’s: “You’ve finally grown up, Leo. How does it feel? You’re not so much a kid anymore, I’d say.”

“Don’t pressure him too much,” said the mother, waving him away. “He’s still young. He’s got time before everything.”

“How’s school holding up, Leo? Are you still doing good? Not too much of those games, okay? Focus on school.”

“He’s still got a year before high school.”

“And? It’ll hit him fast.”

The boy looked out the glass doors to the backyard. It was a cold but beautiful January evening in the Chicago suburbs. The sky was dim, there was a light snowfall, a layer of snow covered the deck. He tried to guess its width, possibly around fifteen to twenty centimetres. A birthday in winter wasn’t so bad personally for the boy. He liked the cold and the snow and the cozy feeling.

The next thing the boy saw was a moving view of a wintery street through a car window. They were going to his uncle’s and aunt’s house. Their family consisted of them two, two sons, a daughter, a grandmother and a grandfather, who were also his, paternal side for his cousins and maternal side for the boy. A spritely man was all he ever knew of his grandfather, but in the passing years he had been becomingly weak and forgetful. Gone were the days of his business exploits. The old man had been an entrepreneur, mostly conducting business in the Philippines and the United States. He ran a chicken farm, then later a gum ball machine company. He was a periodic gambler, although it never really damaged his finances to the point of bankruptcy, nor did it prosper any riches either. However, it kept his business profits at bay until the current day, when he was retired and old, enough that his savings were meagrely average. Decent, but not plentiful enough to escape having to live with his son’s family in a house in Chicago where, with his wife, he was likely to spend the rest of his days.

The family, plus Leo’s, ate dinner. They ate adobo and fried chicken with rice. The boy ate in silence, listening to the rest of his extended family chatting. He was sitting next to his cousins. The boy had little in common with his cousins, mostly speaking with them when he was spoken to by them, for the reason that they had a vast age difference. The youngest of them, the daughter Ava, was seventeen; the middle son Antonio was twenty-one; the oldest son Jacob was twenty-six. 

When dinner ended he saw Jacob saying bye to everyone as he retreated to his room upstairs, not before hugging his grandmother and grandfather. He was like that. He spent most of his time in his room playing games on his computer, only occasionally coming downstairs to say hi. Then the boy watched as Ava and Antonio helped their grandfather onto his wheelchair. The boy’s aunt, their mother, tried to help as well, but Ava was stopping her. In fact, she had been like this all dinner: “No, he doesn’t like that. Give him the adobo. No, he wants it like this, let me do it. No, that’s too fast for him, you need to let him down slowly.” She was observant in an affectional way. She knew what her grandfather needed and she was overtly protective of how he was treated, being aggressive to anyone who was not accustomed to his tastes or needs, even to her mother. Then, after he was brought upstairs, before going to the basement Antonio asked if their grandfather still needed any more help. His mother told him they’d be fine. It was Antonio that had given up his room for his grandfather and grandmother since two years ago. He was now living in the basement, which was cold and unfinished and had a lot of spiders.

When the boy and his parents got home it was fairly late and it was a school night and so his mother made sure he went to bed right away. His father, who had work tomorrow, still continued to watch the television downstairs and the boy saw him with a mild envy that which any question about the matter would engender an admonition from his mother rebuking his privileges as a child and reinforcing the privileges of an adult, his father. And, though he’d argue, his mother would chastise him about the fact that adults were able to stay up late but children should not, and that to be a good boy he must sleep for school tomorrow.

“Good night, honey,” said his mother before closing his door. He did a number of things before he went to sleep. First, he thought about a reply to his father’s question about the goodness of the becomingness of a grownup, and, though he could not do so now, he imagined that he had said to him, “How sure are you that it is a good thing, Dad?” Second, he spent some time thinking about his seeings that day, his cousins helping a weak and old grandfather. Finally, he tucked himself in his sheets and stared at the teddy bear on the lamp table beside him with its permanent smile. His name was Beary and the boy loved him with all his heart.

“I have to say goodbye to you in the morning, Beary,” he said. “Mom’s orders. You’ve been in that same position for years. I’ve long outgrown you.”

The bear said nothing.

The boy yawned, pulled his sheets up, and closed his eyes. He slept soundly.

#

He was four years old again. It was a Saturday in summer. The playroom was bright with sunlight streaming through the windows. The air smelled fresh and sweet. He was playing with Beary. But the teddy bear was now on the human scale, or rather, bear-sized. The boy had woken up to him standing tall over his bed with his default, permanent smile. The little boy had yawned, rubbed his eyes, and looked up at him. He had said, “Another day. Ready to play, Beary?”

“Of course,” said the bear. 

They played all day long. The little boy rode his back, laughing hysterically. They stacked blocks and kicked them down. They ran around the house, playing hide and seek. They made so much noise that he heard his mother yell, “Too loud, Leo! I know you’re having fun with your imaginary bear friend, but keep it down! Mommy’s watching a movie!”

The little boy giggled and said to Beary, “Shh. She doesn’t know.”

Beary nodded. They rested for a while on the carpet floor of the playroom. It was littered with toys. Small cars in one corner, big trucks in the other. Blocks with letters here, sports balls there. There was a table with an entire train set with tracks built on it. In another area of the room there was a small basketball net Leo like to get Beary to put the balls through. There was a sofa behind them, where the air conditioning vent breathed its cool air into the room.

The little boy hugged Beary tight. It was hard to wrap his tiny arms around his big, furry belly. The bear hugged him back with one arm, an arm with a stub for a paw. 

“One day I won’t be allowed to be with you anymore, Leo,” said Beary.

The little boy looked up at his glass-like eyes. “Why?”

“It’s part of what I must do, when you grow up.”

“What is growing up?”

Beary frowned. “It is a day when parents give their chores to you. When homework takes over hours of playtime to the point that there is none. When the lamp that turns on every night on your bed table will be replaced by a device with a sole purpose of blaring loud noise in the morning.”

“That sounds bad.” 

“Oh, it is. But the worst of all is that it is when I will be taken away from you. It will be the day I stop seeing you.”

The little boy’s eyes began to water. He felt the sniffles in his nose. “No! That’s bad! I never want to grow up then! Who would want to grow up?”

“No one wishes to. But it happens against everyone’s will. The best way to prepare is to accept it and be ready for it.”

“What can I do to stop myself from growing up?”

Beary shook his head sadly. “You can’t. Although, there is one way to slow it down. One way many people do, and, in a way, never grow up. They still do work, and their chores, but never really forget the important things.”

“That’s what I have to do? Not forget?”

“Yes. Start by remembering my name. It will be hard, though. Not many people can do it for their own special friend.”

Suddenly, the little boy’s mother and father entered the room. “Leo, you’ve played all day. We are going to visit grandpa and grandma.”

“Oh? He’s crying.”

“What happened, honey? Did you hurt yourself?”

“He’s clutching that teddy bear tightly. Did something scare him?”

“Did you wake up from a bad dream, honey?”

“He’ll be fine. I’ll get the car ready.”

“We are leaving now, honey. Oh, did you want to bring that teddy bear with you? It’s Mr. Beary, isn’t it?”

The ride to the little boy’s uncle’s house was quick. His grandfather and grandmother were visiting from the Philippines. His cousins were younger. They adored him from the moment he arrived, wanting to play with him and entertain him. He saw blurs of faces and heard a stream of words. He saw smiles and laughs and people chatting. He clutched Beary tighter, burying his face in him.

“We think he’s just in a bad mood right now, you can play with him but don’t bother him too much.”

“Maybe he’s cranky from waking up. Oh, look, he had just been crying.”

“What’s up Leo? What’s wrong? Tired?”

“He’s so cute, Jean! I like that shirt you bought him.”

His grandfather appeared, a smile creeping up his mouth. “I think he just needs a visit from the tickle monster!”

The little boy burst out in laughter as his grandfather tickled his armpits. It was a joyful, gleeful sound, even if he wanted it to stop as soon as possible. He was hiccuping high-pitched squeaks, complaining for it to stop. His grandfather was standing in front of him, bending over to his little height.

“Yes, go get him grandpa! He’s just being moody, haha!”

“Ooh, not too much!”

“He dropped his teddy bear, pick it up for him.”

When the little boy and his parents went back to their home, his mother tucked him in his bed, turned on his lamp, kissed his forehead, said goodnight, and closed his door. The rituals of those much older than he was confused him.

He thought about all the fun he had that day. He had played with Beary in the morning, then in the afternoon he played with his vigorous grandfather and fun cousins. He could not have asked for a better life. He’d do it again tomorrow, too. Then the day after that. Then the day after that one. Worry was nonexistent in his world, change was a myth, permanence was permanent.

After she left, the little boy placed Beary, who he had been holding, on the lamp table. He stared at the lamp for a moment, imagining it blaring loud noise in the morning.

“Your name is Beary,” he said. “I won’t forget.”

#

In the morning, the boy held his head walking downstairs for breakfast. When his mother asked him what was wrong and if he had had a dream, he replied yes, some childhood memories, and when she asked if they were good or bad he frowned and said he didn’t know yet.

“Okay. Anyway, I packed your lunch. Ham sandwich. You said you had a math test today? And an english presentation? Good luck. When you get home don’t forget to walk the dog, take out the trash, do the laundry, and wash the dishes. The driveway needs to be shovelled, too. You can start it today after school, but it’s a lot so you should take breaks and…”

“I got it, I got it.” The boy was barely listening, pouring milk in his cereal. As his mother went to the front door, a thought came into his mind. “Hey Mom, you had a doll, right?”

“Yes, I did. Why?”

“What was her name?"
She squinted her eyes, looked at the ceiling, and tapped her chin. “I… I can’t seem to remember. Oh well, I forget. Doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll be home at ten. Dad’s in the U.S., remember? Love you, have a great day at school.”

The door closed behind her. The boy stared blankly at the wall for a moment, then continued to eat his cereal. His thoughts drifted to his ailing grandfather.

Things were not looking good for the old man. Frequent falls riddled his day and his dementia was worsening. He could not remember anyone’s name’s anymore, all he could remember was his mother, of whom he periodically talked about and mistook other people for. Many times he thought Ava, his best caretaker, was her. Most of all he showed signs of not knowing who he was. His name, his age, his previous life. When the boy thought of all this it filled him with a deep sadness likes the woes of a widow, but at the same time a creeping dread bigger than life. 

The boy went back upstairs, making sure to keep track of the time so he wouldn’t be late for school. He wanted to see Beary one last time, before his mother would, he assumed, store him away in a bin somewhere in the basement. There he was, on the bed table, a happy smile etched on his face. “Don’t know when I’ll see you again,” said the boy. “Goodbye.”

#

He woke up to sunlight again. After rubbing his eyes, he looked to his right and saw Beary, human-sized once more, ready to play. He asked, “What do you want to do today?” The boy smiled.

They ran around, pretending Beary was a monster chasing him in the jungle. They pretended they were pirates and whacked pillows against each other, soft to the touch but sharp in their minds. The boy giggled as he crossed pillows with his best friend. They were on a ship sailing the seven seas, there was a huge storm and rain. Beary was an enemy captain trying to take the treasure on his ship, and the boy would never let him have it. “Arr!” He swung his mighty cutlass threateningly. Beary quipped back with some insults. They both laughed.

The boy was elated in a state of euphoria, the idea in his mind that these would be his endless days, just like this each time. How nothing would ruin the friendship he had with Beary, how he would go over to his grandparents house and play with his cousins, how his parents had all the time in the world for him.

“Your parents want to take you for ice cream,” said Beary. 

On cue, the boy heard his mother in the next room: “Leo! Want some ice cream?”

They locked eyes. Beary put his paw to his mouth. “Shh,” he said. The boy giggled. He put a finger to his mouth and did the same.

His parents came into the room. “There you are!” his father said, picking him up and swinging him around. The boy laughed.

The rest of the day was routine as usual. They went to his uncle and aunt’s house. The boy spent a wonderful evening playing with his grandfather and cousins. When it got late they went home. His mother tucked him in to sleep, saying goodnight. He closed his eyes with a smile on his face.

#

When he woke up his mother was at his bed, telling him to dress up because they were going to see his grandfather. She explained that he had fallen down the stairs this morning and he was rushed to the hospital. The rest of the morning was a blur of commotion as they got into the car and drove there as fast as possible. Not a word was said but the boy could feel the thought that was hanging in the air, lingering in their minds: they were going to the hospital because this could be the last time they’d see him.

A certain rage filled the boy, causing him to clench his fists. Some rage against some unknown evil power in the world, or at age itself, the difference did not matter when the boy smelled his own blood boiling. 

When he got home he rushed to find Beary. He looked all around his room. When he wasn’t there, he looked all around the basement, pushing boxes and pulling drawers and opening bins. In his frustrated tumult he failed to see his mother arrive. He immediately calmed down, then asked her, “Where did you put Beary, Mom? You said I had to say goodbye to him. Where did you hide him? I want him again.”

She looked crestfallen. “Oh, honey. It was a misunderstanding, I meant I was going to donate him away.”

“You what?” The boy could not believe it. He was paralyzed in overwhelming fear. His grandfather, gone forever. His best friend, who he once thought would be for life, was gone forever. He closed his eyes and felt the shattering weight of the world upon him, of which he was condemned to face with maturity or die trying.

#

The boy, four years old once more, woke in alarm. He began wailing for his mother. She came quickly, grabbing him in her arms, rocking him gently. She whispered, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I’ve been having these nightmares for a while,” he said. “I was a grownup. Everything was bad. I don’t want to sleep, I might go back.”

“It’s okay, honey. Just stay awake for now. I’ll sleep with you tonight. Is that what you want? Why don’t you play with Beary for a while?”

The boy looked at his teddy bear beside him. Normal-sized. “It’s okay,” he said. “Just some bad dreams. Nothing else.”

“You’ll see your grandfather later,” said his mother. “Play with your cousins again. They always want to see you.” She grabbed his cheeks and shook them. “You’re so cute, you know!”

The boy laughed, forgetting all about what troubled him. This was his life. He had nothing to worry about. All the days of worrisomeness and grief were in times long ahead. Not now, and not in a while. And when they’d come he’d know what to expect.

“Hello, Leo’s mother,” said Beary.

His mother kissed his forehead. “Goodbye, I’ll be in the kitchen baking some cookies if you need me.” She left his room. The boy would forever wonder why she didn’t say hi to Beary back.

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