Chapter Text
Three hours had passed, and Jessie still hadn’t moved. She stared at the clock’s hands slowly ticking, marking every passing second with a stab in the chest. She lay draped across a chair frozen to her owner's eyes, who at the moment were locked on the frog shaped tablet she had received that day. Bright colors flashed through the girl’s eyes, gluing them to the screen.
This wasn’t like Bonnie. In fact, Jessie couldn’t even remember the last time she had been like this. Yesterday, Bonnie had put on an extravagant wedding ceremony for Forky and Karen. The backyard was filled with the aroma of flowers and wedding cake. The same, creative, imaginative girl who promised to never leave Jessie behind had just thrown her onto a chair like she never even mattered. Every minute, the clock on the wall seemed to tick louder and louder until it became unbearable to sit through.
“Bonnie, it’s time to put away Lilypad and head to bed,” said Mrs. Anderson, who finally looked up from her laptop.
“Aww, please, just five more minutes?” begged Bonnie, clutching the tablet to her chest. Her mom shook her head.
“No sweetie, it’s already 10 o’clock,” her mom said, “Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to play tomorrow.” She gave her daughter a reassuring smile. Bonnie sighed reluctantly as she stood up. She held onto Lilypad as they walked upstairs into her bedroom. Mr. Anderson turned off the television, yawning before going to his room. Bonnie’s mom went around the house, switching off every light one by one until Jessie was alone in the darkness of the home. She waited a few more minutes until soft murmurs turned into silence.
The house was silent other than the occasional rumbling of the refrigerator making ice. The faint, sleepy chirps of summer crickets rang throughout the living room, only adding to the unsettling atmosphere. The world was fast asleep, yet Jessie was more awake than ever.
She’ll come back, thought the cowgirl, trying to provide herself some comfort in the idea. Bonnie always did, right? Every time she had accidentally left Jessie in the backyard, she could always count on her girl running outside frantically trying to find her. The smile that Bonnie would flash at her only made the blissful memory sting. The clock’s hands began to get closer to the 11 p.m., warning her that maybe this wasn’t the case, that Bonnie wasn’t coming back. Uneasiness crept into her stomach, twisting it in familiar knots she had experienced plenty of times before.
She’s probably just brushing her teeth, Jessie thought again, this time only sounding less convincing, even though she was the one who was thinking it. But Jessie knew that she had heard the water turn on then off over a half an hour ago, which was not reassuring the cowgirl.
Every night the little girl straightened her hat, kissed her goodnight, and laid her and her other toys delicately on the edge of her bed as if they were her prized possessions. But instead of soft blankets enveloping her, she was laying across a cold, stiff chair the creaked anytime someone sat on it. Her muscles were stiff from staying still, but Jessie didn’t care. She still was filled with the tiny hope that Bonnie would remember that she forgot Jessie downstairs.
Tiny noises that she used to disregard suddenly were filled with hope. Every creak and AC rumble made Jessie’s heart pound in her chest until she thought that the entire house could hear it. Her neck was sore from looking up every time she heard a sound.
Bonnie forgets things all the time. Her stuffed animal, her backpack, even her favorite pair of shoes once. She’ll remember eventually.
But the seconds dragged on, blending into minutes, which turned into devastating hours. It was past midnight, and there was no doubt Bonnie was already fast asleep. She hadn’t looked at the stairs for over fifteen minutes. Bullseye nudged her boot from underneath her, trying to get her attention. The horse could sense anytime something was off about Jessie. But the cowgirl didn’t respond, her throat drying up and her muscles numb. Bullseye whimpered when she didn’t answer. Jessie stayed still, her thoughts starting to become louder and louder.
If she really loved you, she would’ve remembered to bring you up. That one stung harder than the past few hours combined. Not because it was more heartbreaking, but because it was real. Bonnie had truely forgotten about her. Or at least, that’s what Jessie’s mind kept telling her. The cowgirl sat and stared right where Bonnie had left her. Jessie imagined dust collecting on her auburn hair as she waited for eager footsteps to pick her up, smile at her, and tiptoe upstairs to her bedroom. But of course, that never happened.
Jessie was far from sleep, drifting in the cold abyss of heartbreak and denial. She had stopped coming up with excuses hours ago, the reality now settling in. Bonnie wasn’t coming back for her. The silence was so loud it was deafening. Each coming minute felt so much longer than the one before until they were too unbearable to count anymore.
The moonlight spilled onto the wooden floorboards, replacing the warm glow the lamps offered hours before. The room suddenly felt colder and more empty as the last bit of hope Jessie clung to faded. She started noticing the plaster slowly cracking in the old walls of the lived in house. She noticed the smell of old wood seeping into the walls from the forest behind the backyard. The same backyard where Bonnie promised Jessie she would play tomorrow.
Tomorrow. To any other toy, that was a promise that the next day would bring happiness while their kid played with them. But the word felt awfully familiar to Jessie. Because in her mind, tomorrow wasn’t the next day. It was actually years until she was held again by the girl who promised they'd play tomorrow. For a moment, the voices of the two girls became impossible to tell apart. That broke something inside the cowgirl.
No
Bonnie isn’t Emily.
But that was far from the truth. This is where it started. All of a sudden, a once playful girl would become obsessed with something new, whether that be nail polish and record players, or a green frog tablet. The more Jessie thought about it, the more it became clearer.
The warm, midsummer sun shone through the trees,making Emily’s golden hair shine brighter than a star. Jessie didn’t know it yet, but that was the last time she had ever swung on the tire swing with her sweet owner. It reminded her all too well of the past day she had with Bonnie, whether she wanted to or not. Them running through the freshly cut grass, slicked with morning dew. The beautiful wedding Bonnie’s had put on for Forky and Karen. That memory suddenly felt like it was years ago.
Jessie recalled laying underneath the bed, dust collecting on her cloth body as she realized Emily wasn’t going to come back and look for her anymore. Emily began to have friends over, but instead of cowgirl-dolls and swing-sets, the girls talked about boys while they painted each other’s nails. Jessie knew she couldn’t help the fact that her owner was growing up. So instead of fighting back, she surrendered. She laid there for years, watching every time Emily had walked past the bed, which unknowingly had her favorite toy under it.
Each painful memory felt like someone picking faint scars in her heart that she thought had healed years before. But scars are wounds that have faded over, not completely disappeared. Jessie stared at the staircase and for an impossible moment she saw Emily, wearing the same grin that Jessie thought meant forever.
Jessie sighed as the clock ticking got increasingly louder. It was past 3 a.m., and she was done waiting. She looked up one last time at the staircase before her, as if the universe decided that maybe Bonnie had remembered now. But it was empty, filled with the eerie feeling that someone should’ve come down already. Jessie brought her legs up to her chest, lying in the same fetal position she always did when she was overwhelmed. Bullseye curled up under the chair, whimpering slightly. Jessie knew morning would come very soon, and for the first time, she wanted time to stop. But the clock kept ticking.