By Via

Dear Teddy,

If you really knew her, you’d know she was the pinnacle of indelibility. Teddy Buchanan, my across-the-street neighbor and the heart and soul of River Cross. She is both unforgettable and everywhere all the time. For that, I hated her. Her faded fawn hair splitting at the ends, heavy-lidded brown eyes, and shaky hands emphasized by bitten fingernails. She always sported an old black inside-out hoodie with matching basketball shorts and muddy high-tops. 

Teddy juggled a soccer ball in her driveway at a different time every day. Some days, she’d wake me up with her ball repeatedly smacking the pavement. Other days, she’d keep me awake by accidentally setting off a neighbor’s car alarm because she can’t control her damn ball. She even left a dent in someone’s car one time. But despite everything, she was my elderly uncle’s greatest joy and he didn’t even know it—didn’t remember it. Alzheimer’s is a bitch.

My uncle, known by the church and our suburban neighborhood as Father Dan, preached the importance of persistence. In other words, he stuck to the same routine for years. Father Dan wakes up at 5am every day, eats toast for breakfast every day, walks his dogs, Pancho and Bandita, but most importantly, he’d have the same conversation with Teddy Buchanan every day. He’d say hi, she’d say it back, he’d introduce himself, she’d do the same, he’d compliment her, ask her if she’s on a team, compliment her again… blah blah blah. He was in awe at her talent, and boy, did he let everyone know. Miles, d’you see the soccer girl outside? She’s gonna be famous one day. Better get her autograph now before she forgets you.

River Cross lived and breathed with Teddy. Lawn mowers hummed in harmony with every bounce of her ball. Flowers bloomed and berries thrived with every smile of satisfaction when her hat tricks succeeded. Suburban neighbors waved to one another and complimented Teddy as they walked their eager dogs. The sun seemed to shine brighter when she was out. 

This day in particular was somewhat overcast. Father Dan had invited Teddy over and forgot he did, to which Rick, his aid from church, took over. 

“Ah, the infamous Teddy. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Teddy laughed awkwardly. “You know who I am?”

“Of course! Father Dan talks about you all the time. He goes on and on about what a wonder you are.”

“Oh,” she blushed. “That means the entire world to me. Thanks for sharing that. I never thought he’d remember with the uh Alzheimer’s, I’m assuming?”

“Yes, Alzheimer’s. That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about—”

“Wait so he actually talked about me? God, I wish I’d known that earlier. I mean no one’s ever complimented me like that before, not even my family. If anything, people kinda doubt me sometimes. But I always feel like sobbing whenever Father Dan– Oh Jesus, I’m rambling, sorry. What were you saying?”

“Well, first of all. For what it’s worth, he may not remember your name sometimes but he’s never forgotten your talent.”

“Oh…” Teddy smiles down at her fidgeting fingers, fighting tears.

“But also, for lack of a better transition, I just need to tell you—Father Dan is moving into a retirement home next Saturday.”

Teddy hadn’t been seen in 2 weeks after that. Not until Father Dan’s last day in River Cross. The sky was dark and cloudy. Too gloomy for any other neighbors to be out. Teddy had a rough start to her juggling. She went to kick her ball and it sank to the ground, causing her to grunt at the sky before running to her garage and grabbing a pump. Once her ball was nice and bouncy, she kicked it a bit too hard and it got caught in a tree. She huffed and placed her hands on her hips, beginning to pace around when her eyes locked with mine and she stopped. She carefully stalked over to me with her head hanging down.

“Hi, Teddy.”

“Hey Miles…” For the first time since I’d met Teddy, her energy matched that of her clothes. Her hair was messier than usual, eyes red and glossy, lids coated with thick mascara. Tear streaks stained her face. I looked down to her fidgeting hands, nails chewed off more than usual. “Can you do me a favor and make sure your Uncle gets the card I mailed him? I couldn’t bear to say bye to him without crying. I figured writing a letter would suffice.”

My eyes shoot back up to meet hers. “Uh, yeah, of course. I’ll do my best. He has a tendency to throw out mail when he doesn’t recognize the name…” I hesitate. “And Teddy, If you ever need anything or I don’t know…if you want to pass the ball around together some time, let me know.”

“Yeah, uh that actually sounds really nice,” she whispers softly. “Thanks, Miles. I’ll see you around.” She smiles a contagious smile at me before running off.

I race inside to grab the mail keys before running back outside to the mailbox. Shoving the key in the keyhole, I open the box and find it empty. I slam it shut and run back inside. Desperate to not check the trash, I check my uncle’s bedroom first. I open the door to find a white card on the bedside table. Decorated with flowers and a bold ‘THANK YOU!,’ curiosity gets the best of me and I open the card.

Father Dan,

I’m going to miss your kind words and our daily chats. I’m sorry again for all the times I hit your car, but may the dent forever remind you of me. I promise I won’t forget you when I’m a famous soccer player. Take my autograph as an oath. Thank you for all the sweet compliments. Thank you for being my first ever fan. Thank you for believing in me when I couldn’t. 

Teddy Buchanan.

–

Via is a Chicana writer and aspiring author, based in San Diego. Her favorite authors include Sandra Cisneros and Junot Díaz. You can find her on Instagram @oliviasdrafts.