Perhaps Tomorrow

Written By: Ella Oberle
Graphic By: Anya Verma

…fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty.

I smile at the flowers in my hand–yellows, pinks, purples, and reds. I tuck them into the woven basket just like Mama showed me, careful to not bend their fragile petals. She has taught me a lot, like how to tell which berry is safe to eat and why the trees lose their leaves; she knows a lot of other stuff and big words I don’t remember. She’s really smart, and every time I see flowers I think about her. Now that it’s summer, the hill shines with daisies, lavender, coneflowers, and little ones I don’t know the names of. I love the summer, and Mama loves it too, or at least she used to.

I look down towards our house that Papa built for us a long time ago. I don’t remember Papa, but I’m happy he gave Mama and I a house. If not, I’d have to sleep outside. Sleeping with all the ladybugs and butterflies would be fun, but it wouldn’t be nice in the winter. Mama doesn’t like when it’s cold, and that’s why last winter she put all the blankets on our bed, but we still shivered. 

The sun is already starting to set, and I can’t be late for dinner. Sighing, I wave goodbye to the meadow and start down the hill, running my fingers through the blades of grass. A butterfly flutters up from a daisy, and I giggle as it flies through the sky, landing on a rock. Beside it is a teddy bear. 

I hurry towards it. How did I not spot him before? “Are you lost? Do you have a name? I’m Ameline.” I stroke his head and hug him tight–I love him already. “Don’t worry, you can come with me. Let’s be friends.”

“I would like that.”

A scream rips out from my throat, and my basket hits the ground. 

“I apologize; I didn’t intend to startle you,” the voice says.

I look at the teddy bear, shriek, and thrust it away. “Mama! It talked–it talked!” My voice cracks as I stumble down the hill, almost at the path to my house when my foot catches and–

Everything is dark, and crickets are chirping. The stars are there, and fireflies are too, and I sit up. The night is so pretty, and the meadow shines even more with the moon–oh goodness! It’s nighttime! I must’ve fallen asleep; Mama will be so upset with me. The basket–where’s the basket? I can’t go home without it, or she’ll cry more.

I rise and look through the grass until I spot it. I skip over to the basket, peer inside, and sorrow fills me. The flowers are crumpled. 

“Are you alright?” The voice makes me shriek, and again I turn to see nothing but darkness. Oh no, oh no, oh no; I’m about to cry when it speaks again.

“Down here,” the bear says, hidden by clovers. “I am sorry to frighten you. I only wanted to say that, if you would still like to, I would be honored to be your friend. I’ve been hoping you would find me.”

A million-billion thoughts go through my head–how are you speaking? Are you magic? Are you the devil? Am I dreaming? Are you mean? Are you going to hurt me? 

“I saw you collecting flowers,” he quietly offers, and the way he talks reminds me of how Mama reads me bedtime stories. My hands stop fidgeting with the basket and all my thoughts calm down, and I can only focus on him. “I like flowers, too. My favorites are roses.”

“Really?” 

“Yes,” he says after a moment. “May I help you find some?”

“Am I in a dream? Is that how you’re talking? Are you evil?” The words rush out before I can stop them, and I clasp my hands over my mouth. 

“No, you are not in a dream,” though the voice comes from the bear, his sewn lips do not move. “You may call me Teddy. I am magical, but don’t worry. It’s nice magic, and I promise all I want to do is help you.”

Mama has always told me to not trust strangers, but that thought drifts far away as I approach him. He looks so sad and lonely… “Are you by yourself? Do you have a mama?”

Again, the bear pauses. “I don’t quite remember. But, I do remember where to find roses just within the woods. If you would like, we could venture there.”

The forest is so grand. At night, the big trees look like monsters with their branches, and the wind sounds like a wolf’s howl. Once, when I was really little, I almost went into the forest, and Mama didn’t let me leave the house for a week. “I want to go home,” I say as I pick him up. “But… I want to bring Mama something.”

“Well… look to your right,” the bear offers. “Do you see anything?”

I look, but there’s only scary trees that look like they’d swallow me whole. “Just trees.”

“Hm. Perhaps you will tomorrow. Best we go home tonight. I am sure your mother will understand.”

I hug the bear tight as we walk down to the graveled path to my house, its window dark. Mama used to leave a candle out for me, but she hasn’t in a while; she’s been so tired. I slip through the cracked door and tiptoe inside. But, Mama is not in the kitchen, where there’s lots of dishes and food laying on the table and shelves, or the living room, where I like to find dust bunnies, and when I call her name she does not appear. I glance into her bedroom, and there she is. Her blonde hair is all tangled, her pillow is on the floor, and the blankets are twisted.
“Mama, are you having a nightmare?” I hurry to the bed and touch her shoulder. “Mama…?”

Her eyes flutter open and widen. “Ameline, there you are,” her voice is low. “I thought…”

“I’m sorry Mama, I lost track of time,” I grin and lift the bear. “But, look! I made a new friend. His name is Teddy. Oh, also, I brought you flowers, but they’re a bit smushed.”

But Mama doesn’t seem to be listening. “You… my baby… you’re–”

“She must be tired,” Teddy says, and Mama’s eyes close. “Let’s not disturb her anymore. You must be tired, as well.”

I make sure to be extra quiet when I creep upstairs and climb into bed. But, in the morning when I wake up, Mama is still asleep. Sometimes, she says my name or Papa’s name and I wish I could tell her I’m right here. But when she wakes up, she just stares at the ceiling and doesn’t talk or look at me. Teddy says she needs rest, and so I stay out of her room. 

“Let’s go outside,” Teddy offers.

The meadow is still pretty, but it feels farther away. I don’t see any butterflies and the flowers have begun to wilt; Teddy says it’s becoming autumn. I wander with him singing songs and tracing pictures into mud while I collect more flowers. One day, I see Mama looking out the window, and I jump up and down and wave at her. 

She closes the curtains.

At the end of every day, Teddy asks if I can see the roses. 

I can’t. 

“Perhaps you will tomorrow,” he says.

One night, as Teddy and I lay on the hill, I sigh. “Why is Mama upset with me? It’s not fair.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like–I feel like I’m the moon,” I point to the glowing white circle. “See how it’s so far away? And Mama’s right here, on the hill, and I’m in space. I just want Mama to be happy. She just cries when she sees the flowers or throws them away… I don’t understand, Teddy. What am I doing wrong?”

“Sometimes space,” he says quietly, “is the kindest thing we can give our loved ones.”

The days begin to blend together after that. I wake up each morning and peek into Mama’s room. Eventually, she starts getting out of bed. The first time she does, I smile and start talking, but she walks past me towards the living room.

Teddy said that maybe it would be better if we slept outside. There are not many flowers anymore, and the ones I find I leave them on the window seal. I don’t know if Mama sees them or not. At the end of each day, Teddy asks me if I see the roses, and when I shake my head he just says, “Perhaps tomorrow.” 

Weeks pass. The air turns crisper and it begins to snow; I try to make snow angels, snowmen, and try to catch snowflakes on my tongue. Teddy doesn’t speak much anymore, but he always asks me that question. He asks me the same now, and I almost say no. But I turn my head, and there’s a faint glow in the distance.

“Yes,” I whisper breathlessly. “Teddy, I see them.”

The roses shimmer in various shades of blue, and I clutch Teddy close as I run towards them, my footsteps silent against the snow. He was right; the patch is not deep within the forest, and I drop to my knees beside them. “They’re so beautiful… it’s almost like they’re made of ice, or glass,” I say. “May I take one?”

“That depends,” Teddy’s voice is soft. “Tell me. What is your greatest desire?”

I look up at the stars and back at the roses. “Things can never go back to how they were, can they?”

He offers only silence. 

“I want… I want Mama to be happy,” I say. “I’m tired. I want to rest.”

I reach for a rose, and he speaks. “If you do this, you cannot turn back. But, you will feel warmth.”

The rose’s light spills out from the forest, bright and gentle. I look at my hands, and they’re glowing too, and are see-through. “Teddy… thank you. You’re a nice friend. I hope I see you again.”

His face does not change, but I know he is smiling. “Perhaps tomorrow.”

The wind carries me, and soon the roses, teddy bear, forest, house, and meadow are far away.

And it’s quiet.

In the morning, Mama opens the curtains for the first time in months, and outside the meadow glows with pale blue roses.