Chapter Text
The phone was ringing.
Mildly annoyed by the disturbance on an early Sunday morning, you reached for the small rectangular device on your bedside table.
You had to squint your eyes at the brightness of the screen. It was 7am, your smartphone told you. And your granny was calling.
You accepted the call.
"Morning grandma..." You mumbled, still a little grouchy from being awoken so early.
"Good morning, darling!" She chirped joyfully. Sheesh, how did she always manage to be such an early bird?
"Your gramps and I were cleaning out our attic this morning." Granny continued. "And we found an old toy box of yours!"
"An old toy box?" You echoed tiredly, rubbing your face in an attempt to stay awake.
"Yes, yes! It has items from that show you loved so much as a kid! What was it called? Welcome Back Home?"
Suddenly you were wide awake, sitting up straight in an instant.
"Welcome Home?!"
"Oh yes, that's what it was called!" Granny chuckled.
"Oh my god, you still have that stuff?? That must be so old by now!"
Of course you remembered the show very well. You used to watch it religiously as a child. It was the source of most of your joy and creativity growing up.
The main character especially... What was his name again...?
"Before we throw it away, I figured I give you a call to see if you want to look at it or take it home." Granny explained to you.
What a sweet woman. May she live forever.
"Oh Granny! I would love to look at it!"
"Good, good. Then I'll set it aside for you. Do you have any plans today?"
You thought for a moment. "Um... No. I'm free today."
"Then how does a cup of tea and some delicious apple pie at your Granny's place sound to you?", she offered in a mischievous tone, knowing damn well you'll never refuse her pastries.
"Absolutely fantastic." You beamed. "I'll be there at three?"
"Three sounds good, honey. I'll see you then!"
"Seeya, Granny!"
<^> <^> <^>
At exactly 3pm you pulled up to your Granny's house. A cute little house in the suburban part of town.
You parked your car in her driveway and hopped out. As you did, the front door opened and your grandparents greeted you with excited smiles.
You walked up the steps and hugged them.
"Hey Granny! Hey Gramps!"
"Hello my darling! It's so good to see you again in person. It's become such a rare occurrence ever since you started to work." Granny cheerfully pinched your cheek, glad to have her grandchild at her house again.
"Have you grown? It seems you're a little taller than last time." Gramps wondered, while they let you step inside.
He always greeted you with the same question. It's like he never got over the fact that you're an adult now.
"Nah, I think you just shrunk a little." You joked light heartedly.
He gasped and then laughed, while you took off your shoes and coat. The three of you moved on to the kitchen, where Granny had prepared the table previous to your arrival. You ate apple pie with your grandparents and drank plenty of tea. Conversation flowed freely, as you caught them up on the most recent events of your life.
Soon it was time for you to look at the old toy box that had prompted your visit.
The old and dusty carton sat in front of you on the garage ground. You gently dusted it off before opening its flaps.
As soon as you caught sight of the old storybooks, VHS tapes and countless drawings you made as a child, a massive wave of nostalgia washed over you.
You remembered it. You always would. Maybe not all memories had resurfaced now, but they surely would when going through the contents in the box.
A fond smile spread on your lips, as you picked up the drawing at the very top of the pile. It showed a stickfigure version of younger you, drawn in messy felt tip marker lines. You stood on a green meadow under a blue sky. The sun smiled in the corner. A bunch of colorful stickfigures - each drawn in the same messy artstyle and with little attributes to set them apart - surrounded you in the picture. They all smiled (except for one, for some reason) and said "Welcome Home!", which was in a big speech bubble. Beside the head of each figure was their names.
Poppy. Barnaby. Eddie. Frank. Howdy. Julie. Sally.
And Wally.
Ah yes, Wally.
Your smile widened. That was his name. He was the main character. And your favorite.
You put the drawing back onto the pile. At this point your decision to take the box home was already made. You still wanted to look at a few more things first though.
Picking out a VHS cassette, you examine the label. It was handwritten in sharpie.
WH: The Apple Painting
Right. Since your parents never bought you any cassettes, your grandparents recorded some episodes for you. This must be one of them.
You put it back too. Lastly you briefly flipped through a storybook. Endearment bubbled inside you, eyes glued to the colorful illustrations.
Okay, time to take the box to your car.
Carefully, you closed the carton again and picked it up. On your way through the house, you told Granny about your decision. The old lady smiled, happy you cherished your childhood memories like that.
After loading the box into the backseat of your car and an exchange of goodbye-hugs with your grandparents, you were on the road back home.
During the drive you couldn't help but feel a little strange. You weren't entirely sure what it was, but it felt as if there was a small presence with you in your car.
You shook your head.
Probably just the memories feeling like their own person. Or it's my inner child. Or the box. Who knows.
You dismissed these thoughts and carried on home.
<^> <^> <^>
Later that day you were looking through the box again. This time you sat in your bed, aiming to dig through your memories comfortably.
The drawings younger you had made caught your attention more than anything else in the carton. Perhaps it was the fact that you made these items yourself. Which gave them more personal value in opposite to the storybooks or cassettes. So once again, you looked at them first.
One of them showed the face of the sun girl, Sally, looking up at the moon. On the backside younger you had written: Sally likes the moon. She thinks she's pretty.
Another drawing showed Frank and Eddie holding hands with a little heart above them.
A third drawing showed younger you having a picnic with Wally underneath an apple tree.
Your smile never faded, looking at these pictures. It was so endearing to see the almost familial bond you used to have to these characters. Rediscovering that was comforting. To be reminded that somewhere out there, albeit in a fictional universe, a loving and functional home existed. One you didn't have as a child.
You frowned. Maybe that's why the show enchanted you so much.
Reaching further into the box, you picked up the whole stack of drawings. It was a fat and heavy stack. Surprisingly however, it didn't reach all the way to the bottom of the carton.
No, the drawings seemed to be stacked on top of some sort of toy. Your curiosity was piqued. You set the stack aside on your mattress and peered back into the box to see the toy.
A telephone. A red, oldschool rotary phone.
Right. The show was set to be in the 70s.
Your fingertips grazed the handle of the receiver. Suddenly it was like a small electrical current racing up your arm and into your brain. You found yourself breathless by the sudden onslaught of resurfacing memories.
Phone calls. Late at night. In secret. A sleepy voice at the other end of the line, telling you encouraging words or promising that things would change eventually.
You remembered laughing during these calls. Or picking up the receiver crying, tears dripping onto your little hand as it selected the red button of the dial and turned it. Only to be comforted by the voice at the other end, helping you feel better. You always smiled at the end of those calls.
Who did you talk to?
...
Wally. You talked to Wally. He was your best friend.
It all had felt so real.
But it couldn't have been.It was just a toy right? Well, a child's imagination is powerful, they say. But is it powerful enough to make up entire phone calls and vividly remembering them?
You stared at the toy phone in the box.
Slowly, you lifted it up and set it down in your lap. Giving it a once-over, you couldn't find any visible damage. Sure, it had the typical signs and scratches of having been used, but that was it.
Should you try it? Find out if the calls were real?
You chewed your lip, still staring down at the toy phone. It was heavier than you expected.
Fuck it. What's the worst thing that could happen?
You lifted the receiver to your ear.
Silence.
Fully expecting this to not work, you held your breath. You selected the red button. Your index finger didn't fit into the small dial anymore, so you used your pinky. And turned the dial.
You let go.
The dial whirred backwards and snapped back into position with a click.
Silence.
Toot...
Toot...
Toot...
Click.
"Hello?" The same sleepy voice you remembered.
Your eyes widened. Thinking it might be a pre-recorded call, you remained silent.
"Helloooo?" The voice asked again. "Neighbor? Are you gonna say something?"
You swallowed hard and leaned against the headboard. "Y-Yes. H-Hello."
"Oh! There you are. Ha. Ha. Ha."
You remembered his laughter. Wally always sounded like he just said the individual 'ha's.
Oh god, what were you supposed to say now? This might still be a pre-recorded thing though... You weren't entirely convinced yet.
"Yeah, I'm... here. Uh..."
"We haven't talked in a long time, Neighbor..."
Guilt stabbed you in the guts. And shock. A pre-recorded voice wouldn't know that. This was real. This was definitely real.
"That's true... I haven't called you in years.... I'm... Really sorry." You fiddled with the phone cable, as anxious and guilty thoughts flooded your mind.
"It's okay. I trust there was a good reason, Neighbor." His voice was as friendly as ever. So trusting.
You felt even worse because of that. Especially, because there wasn't a valid reason for the years-long silence from you. You didn't fully remember why, but one day you just stopped calling him. Without warning. Without announcement. From one day to the other you were just... gone.
He must have been so confused.
Your eyes watered, threatening to spill the overflowing emotions you were struggling to hold back. He deserved a better apology than a simple "I'm sorry". He deserved an explanation, that wasn't a feeble excuse.
You wanted to give him a reason, explain yourself, so you wrecked your brain for one you couldn't seem to remember at the moment. You gave him a piece of truth anyway.
"I couldn't possibly apologize enough for going silent for all these years. Honestly I'm not sure why I stopped calling... I guess life just... happened." God, you felt awful saying that, not sure if that made things better or worse.
But as Wally replied after a moment of silence, there was no bitterness in his voice. No anger or rejection.
"I understand. You must be all grown up now, Neighbor." There was a subtle, but unmistakable, hint of pride in his otherwise sleepy voice. Like a friend who's glad their friend made it through a rough patch and came out on top.
At that moment a huge weight lifted off your shoulders. The urge to cry with happiness and relief was overwhelming for a moment or two and you sniffled audibly.
"Yeah... I am.", was your shaky response. It was hard to keep it together. "But that's okay, I guess. At least things are better now."
"See. I told you everything would be okay.", Wally's voice was incredibly soothing to your ears, "And it will continue to be okay. Okay, Neighbor?"
"Okay." You sniffled again.
"You will be okay."
"I will be. Actually, I am already. I'm just so glad to have reconnected with you and the neighborhood. You were such a big part of my childhood."
"Thank you, Neighbor. I'm glad you allowed us to be just that."
From that moment onwards, conversation began to flow more freely. You asked him how he was doing, to which he replied, him and the others were fine. Everything in the neighborhood was as dandy as it always had been. Just the way you remembered it.
You caught him up on your life as well, eager to fill in the year long gap. You told him about your time in high school, how glad you were when you finally made it out of there. How you got a job at eighteen and moved out of your parents' place as soon as you could. How you managed to make yourself your own cozy home in your apartment and how your life had generally improved.
Wally commented on everything with positive affirmations or little praises, always genuinely happy for you.
Time flew by and before you knew it, it was well past midnight. Exhaustion caught up to you. Rubbing your eye, you yawned.
"Oh my, look at the time...", you mumbled, dissapointed this call would end soon. If you could, you would talk to him until you fell asleep, but you didn't want to worry him again.
"Oh! You're right! It's after midnight." Wally concluded as well. "We should probably head to bed, Neighbor..."
There was a moment of hesitance on his end, before he asked.
"Will I hear from you again soon, Neighbor?"
You could practically feel the anxiety behind the question. The underlying fear of loosing you again. It broke your heart in two.
"You definitely will," you reassured him, "I'll make sure to make time in my evenings for you."
Again, you could feel his relief.
"Thank you, Neighbor... Sleep well."
You smiled softly. "Sleep well too, Wally. Goodnight."
His final goodbye, before he hung up, caught you off guard.
"Bye, Neighbor. I love you!"