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Being an only child, Teddy had often been lonely. He tried to play with the other children on the his road, but it never worked out well. A few of the children who used to play with him weren't allowed to any more. Their parents had said Teddy was bad, so now they wouldn't play with him. Teddy didn't think he was bad. He was always nice to the other kids, and shared the few toys that he had. He even made sure they played outside if his Daddy was home and on a drunk. Momma even made them lemonade sometimes if she was feeling well that day.
Becky Taylor, the closet thing he had ever had to a best friend, had tried to explain it to him once. In all her nine year old wisdom, she had said:
“Momma says yer’ trailer trash. That’s why I can’t play over at yer’ house.”
“But you live in a trailer too,” Teddy had pointed out.
Becky shrugged. “I know. But, my Daddy doesn’t want me around yer Daddy. He says yer’ Daddy’s a bad man.”
“He is.” Teddy said bluntly. “But I never get you over when he’s around.”
“I know,” Becky said sadly.
They sat quietly on the Teddy’s porch steps, each lost in their own nine year old thoughts. “I know!” Teddy exclaimed suddenly. “I can just come over to yer’ house and play! That way yer’ Momma and Daddy won’t hafta worry!”
Becky hung her head. “Daddy don’t want me around you either, Teddy. He’s worried yer’ like yer’ Daddy. I told him you wasn’t, but he didn’t care.”
Teddy felt tears prickling his eyes, but managed to hold them back. When he spoke, his voice was thick. “I’m gonna’ miss playin’ wit’ you, Becky.”
“Oh Teddy!” She cried, throwing her arms around his neck. “I’ll miss you too! I’ll write”, she promised, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I promise. I’ll write. Daddy can’t keep me from writin’ letters!”
Becky never wrote. If she saw him at church, she would smile and speak politely to him. But, Teddy’s family was rarely in church because his Daddy was usually too hung over on Sunday mornings to go. So, Teddy just played by himself out in the yard. The only real toys he had were his Momma’s dolls. They were better than nothing. Teddy was just careful not to let his Daddy catch him with them. His Daddy had only caught him once with the dolls. Teddy had been playing in the backyard and hadn't heard him pull in. His Daddy had torn the two dolls to pieces. He then spit in Teddy’s face and called him a a bad name. Teddy hadn't known what that word meant, but he knew that it wasn't nice.
Teddy had cried for a long time after his Daddy had gone into the trailer. Then he had dug a hole in the dirt with his hands, just deep enough to bury the two dolls. It had made him so sad to see the tiny, broken doll parts in that hole. He covered them over, smoothing the earth so you couldn't tell that it had been dug up. Their whole lawn was dirt anyway.
Afterwards, Teddy had gone inside and washed his hands. He couldn't get the dirt from under his nails, and gave up after his fingers were sore from scrubbing. Then he had went into his Momma’s room and apologized for getting her dolls broken. His Momma had just smiled in her childish way and gave him three more to play with. Teddy kissed her, then went and hid the dolls in his sock drawer.
From then on, Teddy always played in the front yard so he could see his Daddy coming up the dirt road. When he would see the old pick-up truck coming, he would quickly bury his dolls in the earth. His Daddy never caught him, but he always complained that Teddy had dirt under his fingernails.