Chapter Text
Andy woke up to find Woody missing.
The day Andy returned from Cowboy Camp, he threw himself into Mom’s warm, welcoming embrace. Andy burrowed his face into her belly, soaking in the smell of kitchen oil on cloth. “Mom, can I play with Woody for a bit?” He asked with the satisfied smile he had borrowed from the camp.
It was near dinner time, but Mom said yes, of course she said yes—caring, cozy and composed, save for a few naggings here and there, she was probably the greatest mom anyone could ever ask for. Unlike Sid, whose parents were cold as ice. He couldn’t imagine living under the same roof as Sid’s, when his own had always been his safest anchor.
If Andy’s sadistic neighbor was less of an antisocial wretch and had a bit more empathy while he dismantled every toy he owned, Andy would’ve happily invited him to come over and play, or maybe send him a birthday party invitation.
Andy yawned tiredly, the sweet evening air swirling in his widened mouth. His legs wobbled upstairs with what little energy the camp had left him.
His bed had never felt so soft and comfy, cotton sheets fluffy as clouds on his skyblue wallpaper. His downward eyelids couldn’t beat the exhaustion. Darker and darker his vision became, yet more and more vividly, he saw himself together with his favourite cowboy back in camp, grinning boyishly under the sun, mounting onto a goofy-looking horse, riding wild and far away from home. But Andy was the one watching this happen from home.
“Mom!” The next morning, Andy called out before giving the birds a chance to finish their morning lullaby, “Have you seen Woody? He’s not in my room anywhere!”
“Oh dear, did you leave him at camp?” She yelled in response as banging noises shook the walls between them. Mom had no choice but to pause her laundry work.
“I didn’t bring him, remember? His arm hasn’t been fixed yet.”
Mom hastily swirled into Andy’s room, “Maybe he’s under y-”
For a second, she was frozen in her tracks.
Andy looked around to find out what was so shocking, and saw that his room had become a messy rainbow canvas. Grayish dust spilled under the bed, clotting onto his arm. The cupboard stepped two inches away from the wall. At the center of all sat the toy chest, its precious contents scattered across the floor.
Andy gave out an embarrassed chuckle while his mom looked visibly irritated. Her tightened grip on the laundry basket might have saved them from picking up extra clothes. “I can’t find him.” whispered Andy.
She shook her head in frustration, eyes tightly shut as if the mess in front of her would vanish away. “Oh, Andy,” said Mom, “If you don’t wanna miss the school bus, you’d better hurry.”
“Oh, really? I thought it was Sunday.”
Mom raised an eyebrow.
“Right,” He made up his mind and quickly scooped all his toys back inside the chest, knocked the cupboard backwards against the wall, and swung his backpack onto his shoulders, all done in a practiced manner. He pressed a tiny kiss on Mom’s cheek.
“See ya later, mom!” The boy darted towards the front door, leaving behind a trail of dust. “Bye, sweetheart,” she said in her usual manner.
The front door closed away all the sounds of a busy morning. But something lurking in the recesses of Mrs Davis’s mind told her that she would be missing this a lot. It was rather unsettling to think about.
So she found herself sweeping the floor of his son’s room instead. One whisk of the broom and the dust was chased away, like gilded glitter in sunlight. Despite the extra workload, a radiant smile managed to tuck onto her lips. Andy was growing up quickly, and everything about him was coming closer together. Schoolwork. Friendship. This home. His toys. Whatever Mrs Davis had expected her son to do, he had outdone himself. She felt as if she could retire very soon. Then, she could spend an entire day watching her son play with his toys.
Now that she was rearranging the contents of the toy chest, her head set off fireworks of questions. Where could Woody possibly be? Andy surely didn’t bring him to Cowboy Camp, so that was ruled out. When was the last time she saw Woody? She peered down the windows and saw that the grass needed mowing, which wasn’t exactly the elephant in the room. But the idea was enough to lead her to it. Hang on, that’s it! the yard sale! She could’ve sworn she did not drag good ol’ Woody to some nickle-and-dime yard sale, but somehow he was just there gathering dirt and sunlight on the ground. She vaguely recalled a chubby-looking man who tried to bargain with her. But that was just a ridiculous anecdote she would someday laugh about with her son.
Right now the cowboy should be safely sealed inside a metal case, she thought as she grabbed hold of stacks of cardboard boxes.
Yet search as she might, the other toys knew better. Or worse.
“I can’t believe it,” Rex stuttered in his shrill voice, “I can’t believe he’s actually done it!”
“Hmph!” Mrs Potato Head took her husband’s hand as she stepped out of the toy chest. She could see Buzz across the room, nearing the door to check whether the coast was clear. Something that used to be another toy’s job.
The woman vented furiously, “Honestly. A-N-D-Y. Four huge letters stamped right under his boot and that stupid bastard didn’t even give a shit!”
“Yeah, that guy’s a piece of ice!” said Mr Potato Head, gesturing wildly.
“He brought it on himself,” Hamm taunted cynically, “Wait till he comes crying back to us.”
“I sure hope he will.” muttered Slinky Dog in a rare tone of utter contempt. He tried to shift his focus to something else. “Hey, Buzz! You all right there?”
“Yup, just checking.” Buzz replied, both eyes on the floor. It was really not his cup of tea hearing his best friend being criticized behind the back. Still, there was more to that. Too complicated to be processed at the moment.
The mantle of leadership was wordlessly transferred to the space ranger, him being the most capable toy that could replace the one who left. The gang returned from a perilous mission a few days prior, and the physical activity drained their energy severely. Though Buzz knew from experience that they would have been celebrating in exultation if the mission was successful. Nonetheless, his encouragement was powerful enough to make them keep calm and carry on, as he had known from earthlings.
Regardless of the consequences, Buzz spoke from his heart, “If he wanted to go, we would have to let him. It was not up to us.”
It was as if he poured gasoline into a funeral pyre while everyone else was watching. No one expected their leader to say anything so deeply triggering. Some had black smoke in their eyes, others had faces white as chalk. “Seriously?”
Usually, Buzz would stand tall against challenges, arms akimbo and chin tilted upwards in military fashion, ready to speak up for his own rightful ideations. The others seem to be expecting that, too.
The defensive look that their leader threw them was synonymous to unwillingness.
Three display cases sat proudly at the core of the hall. The blinding light shone on them like a king, a queen and his knight in their respective positions. Enclosed by crystal clear glass, and ivory marble walls, and the museum itself, there would be no chance of escape.
“So, whaddaya say, Woody? Isn’t this just awesome?” Jessie beamed at him. Her smile was bright as the sunrise that the walls of this building kept away. “Don’t stress it, boy, once they cut that banner you’ll be in cloud nine!” Rasped Stinky Pete excitedly, seemingly proud that his persuasion skills rounded up the gang.
Woody’s boots were heavier than usual. They grounded him steadily.
“Yeah,” said Woody, raising the corners of his lip. He gazed upon the icy reflection of himself, and could feel two ardent pairs of eyes burning on him. “You bet.”
Jessie asked out of the blue, “Do you miss Andy?” Woody wasted no time to snap his head towards her, but his tongue was tangled. Jessie smiled reassuringly, “It ain’t easy. I understand. But wouldn’t it be nice to think about the smiles on those kids’ faces when they see you?” Jessie sounded so genuinely optimistic that Woody almost felt embarrassed for himself.
“Well, yes. Of course. I mean,” He stopped halfway pacing in circles, which he didn’t even notice he started. Sighing, he blurted out with concern, “It’s just- I have a weird feeling about this whole, leaving-my-kid-to-live-in-a-museum ordeal and, what if something bad happened to Andy? That’d be-”
“Relax, cowboy!” If Stinky Pete were standing next to him, his hat would’ve gone harshly down Woody’s backbone. The old man cackled giddily, “Nothing’s gonna go wrong with your kid. I swear to god.”
Woody nodded hesitantly while tapping his foot against the tempo of a clock, all while his mind was focused on something else. Someone else.
It was the worst promise ever.
The traffic light shone green.
The evening sun painted everything in a reddish hue. Fresh rays spilled over the empty seats in Mrs Davis’s car. She placed one hand on the steering wheel, another held up a phone against her ear. There was something serious, or frustrating, happening. Her unfocused pupils said it all. She would be a bit late home, her sticky note told Andy, because she was paying a visit to the lost-and-found office.
The traffic light shone red.
In the rear mirror, Mrs David noticed a chubby smiley man who looked oddly familiar. Maybe he had been on TV. She paid no mind to this stranger whilst she waited.
The traffic light shone green.
Rows of vehicles pushed forward in unison. Mrs Davis ended the call. Eyes on the road moving in front of her, she couldn’t see the Lamborghini in the rear mirror accelerating, almost in a wriggly path.
It happened too suddenly.
A loud bang alarmed the street. People fled in shock. Children coming from an ivory building were hurried away by their parents, smiles turning into tears. But the occupant inside could not move. The impact vibrated through her skull, through and through. Her throat had choked on air. Darkness washed away light from sunset.
Then, it was just a torrent of incessant honking and bumper kisses.