Objects of Affection
TITLE: Objects of Affection
DATE: 06/18/05 - present
GENRE: drama
RATING: PG 13, borderline R
STYLE: # of chapters to be determined
SUMMARY: It’s the little things that always matter. It’s the little things that help us remember. It’s the little things that she took with her whenever they parted. It’s the little things that fill the old hat box that sat in the dark corner of her closet. And now, years later, it’s the little things that tell the story of the love she held on to.
DISCLAIMER: Though mostly based on real life events, this story is fiction and all content is mine.
+ Prologue +
“Mommmmyyyyyy,” the four year old whined as she stumbled into her mother’s bedroom, pausing to look around the room. Her big, blue eyes searched the large room high and low before lighting up. Giggling to herself, she ran towards the large bed in the middle of the room and pulled herself up onto it. Jumping up and down twice, she flung herself onto the heap in the center. A moan came from beneath the pile of blankets and pillows and the little girl squealed in delight. “Mommy!” she exclaimed, wrapping her small arms around the body under the blankets.
Veronica sat up in her bed and was able to throw the blankets off of her before her daughter jumped on top of her, yet again, this time knocking her onto her back. She laughed and hugged her tight. “You found me!” she said, enthusiasm in her voice.
“I founded you!” the little girl repeated, throwing her arms up and grinning. “It was eeeasy,” she smiled, poking her mother’s nose after she’d settled into her lap.
“Does that make me ‘it’?” Veronica asked, running her fingers through her daughter’s soft, golden brown hair in an attempt to brush it out of the girl’s eyes. She ran her eyes over the child in her lap as she vigorously nodded and couldn’t help but smile. She was an adorable, healthy little girl. How had she gotten so lucky? “I guess that means you have to hide and I have to find you, right?”
“Yep!” the little one said, rolling out of her mother’s lap and sliding off the bed. She picked up a lone pillow that had fallen to the floor when she’d discovered her mother and handed it to her. “Count to ten!” she told her. “And close your eyes!” she demanded, waiting until her mother’s hands were over her eyes before turning to run.
“Don’t go too far, baby, or else Mommy will have a hard time finding you and you’ll miss lunch time!” Veronica directed lovingly, smiling, yet again, when she heard the pitter patter of her child’s feet come back into the room. She began to count slowly.
Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the little girl turned once, inspecting the room, before finding what was sure to be the trickiest hiding spot. She shuffled quietly to the closed closet door. Tongue out, up on her toes, she grasped the small, peg doorknob and pulled outwards and sideways, slowly folding open one of the white, wooden doors. Careful not to disturb anything inside that would make a loud noise, she stepped in and attempted to close the door. She took a few more steps backwards and stepped onto something in the farthest corner she could get to before she crouched down. She pushed the dress that was hanging at the end in front of her, put her tiny hands over her mouth so that her breathing and giggles wouldn’t be heard, and watched her mother as she finished counting through the cracks in the doors.
“8… 9… 10!” Veronica shouted, flinging the blankets off of her and throwing her legs over the side of the bed. She slipped her feet into her slippers and began to search at the other end of the room. “Abbbbyyy?” she called out, moving a few things off the couch in her bedroom and pretending to peer under them. She turned around and dropped to her knees. “Abby?” she asked the air, pulling the dressings of her bed up and looking underneath. She pretended not to hear the little girl giggle from inside the closet as she went about her search. “Baby? Where are you?” she wondered aloud, disappearing from the room and opening and closing a few doors, hoping to convince the child that she was looking very hard for her. She went into the kitchen briefly, banged a pot and pan against the counter, and then shouted again, “Abby?” Sighing, she returned to her room, putting on her best sad face and hanging her head. She took a seat on her floor facing her closet and put her head in her hands. “I can’t find my favorite little girl,” she pretended to cry. A small cough came from inside the dark closet and Veronica lifted her head up. “Unless…” she pondered, moving forward and throwing open the closet door.
“Rawr!” the little girl growled, jumping out at her mother, enjoying the bear hug she received and tried to return. “You couldn’t find meee,” she sang, pulling away from her mother, and running back into the closet. “Look! I was here!” she exclaimed, reaching out for her hand and pulling her inside. “I stood right here,” she said, climbing back onto her perch and waiting while her mother pulled the chord that hung for the light. “See?”
“I do see,” Veronica nodded, pushing back the dress that hung in front of her and taking notice of what the girl was actually standing on top of.
“Lunch time now!” the girl said, hopping back down and taking her mother’s arm, attempting to pull her out of the closet. Veronica let the girl tug as she reached forward, taking hold of the circular shaped cardboard container and retreating back to the middle of the floor. “Ooh, what that?” Abby asked, suddenly forgetting about lunch time, fascinated with the blue and pink striped thing in front of her mother.
“It’s something from when I was a little girl,” Veronica told her, leaning forward and blowing the small layer of dust off the top of the hat box. “Well, not really a little girl. A lot older than you are now,” she smiled at Abby, pulling her into her lap and placing her chin gently on the little shoulder beneath her.
“What is it?” Abby questioned, poking at the box with her little finger and tipping her head back to look at her mother. “Open it?” she asked, her eyes big with curiosity.
Veronica bit down on her bottom lip. Of course it could be opened. There was no lock, no key, no password or code needed. The question was… did she want to open it? It’d been years since she stashed it in the back of that closet. She couldn’t bring herself to throw it away, to part with it. It held so much of her past. Every single thing in that box told a story of her past… with him. Sure, she saved it so that she could someday look back on it and remember what was meant to be remembered, but was it time to do just that? She wanted to share everything with her daughter, but was she old enough? Probably not. But that could be a blessing in disguise.
“Please?” the girl begged, reaching out and attempting to open it herself.
“Alright, alright,” Veronica nodded, taking a deep breath and removing the top. The familiar scent of old cologne filled her nose immediately. Another deep breath was taken as she closed her eyes, images already flooding back into her brain. A small, high pitched sneeze came from under her and she placed herself back in the present quickly.
“Ew,” Abby said, looking down at her hands, and up at her mother. Nothing was there, but she was taught to always wash her hands before germs were spread. “I be right back,” she announced, climbing out of her mother’s lap without the use of her hands and running out of the room, leaving Veronica alone momentarily with her box of memories.
“Wow,” she breathed, finding it hard to believe the contents of the cardboard container before her. She was afraid to pull anything out, to touch anything. Everything was so precious, so cherished. Everything meant something to her. This was going to be one hell of a trip down memory lane. But was she ready for it?
“Ooh, what this say?” Abby asked, back from her trip the bathroom sink with her clean hands. She thrust a piece of paper into her mother’s chest before sitting back down in her lap and dropping her head against her, waiting to be read to.
Veronica held the faded piece of paper gently and sighed, leaning back against the side of her bed. Her options were on this paper, as well. Was she ready? Check yes… or check no. The answer was already checked.
Yes.
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