The Tragic Tale of Teddy Woven

Alone, I wandered over to the bakery at the end of the street. Teddy was busy at the bustling grocery store, which allowed me to escape from him for a little while to explore the village belonging to him. Steps away, I could already detect the scent of freshly baked bread. In the late afternoon it was a welcoming aroma, which filled me with anticipation for the rest of the night I would spend with Teddy.

I swung the glass door wide open, startled to find that I was the only customer inside the store. An elderly lady with dark coloured skin and incredibly short curly hair was quick to greet me. She was absolutely enthralled that a customer had finally stepped through her door. She immediately went around the wide counter, letting her hand slide over the glass case to bring herself closer to me. “Good afternoon!” the lady greeted me with a faint Jamaican accent. “My name is Marjorie. Pleasure to meet you. Now, how can I help you?”

“I was looking for a small cake. Perhaps, a dessert,” I quietly answered her.

“You’ve come to the right place. Come right this way!” she encouraged me, while waving out her hand. “We have Morning Glory coffee cake, caramelized apple loaves, chocolate banana cake, and a whole selection of fruit cheesecakes.” Marjorie motioned me forward to take a look through the glass. “A light velvety chocolate chiffon cake, with trimmings of Belgian chocolate. Perfect for anyone with a sweet tooth. If you want something plain then we have vanilla cake, or perhaps a simple carrot cake.”

“That sounds good!” I exclaimed, for it was my favourite flavour when eating pastries.

“Oh! But we have more too!” she shouted out. “Look! Red velvet, white pearl, toffee, and then we have our pies. Peach! Strawberry, blueberry, pineapple, and then…”

“I think Teddy would like something simple.”

“Teddy?” she laughed. “Is that the name of your son?”

“No, he is a friend,” I breathed out quickly. “Well, my boyfriend actually.”

“A nickname then? Oh! How adorable.” Marjorie’s smile was broad and well set upon her plump looking face. “Lovely. To give a name like that to your boyfriend.”

“He uses that name all the time,” I confessed. My finger pointed at the crumbled apple pie with creamy custard and raisins inside of it. “He will like that one,” I said with utter certainty.

“He goes by that name all the time?” she asked with surprise. Marjorie went around the corner to retrieve the selected item right away. “A grown man too.” She furrowed her eyebrows in a curious way. “I assume he is about your age.”

“No, Teddy is a little older than me.”

“A strange name,” she remarked with the corners of her eyebrows now quirking upwards. She was so puzzled by this situation that she forgot to pull out the pie. It was just then the door to the shop flew open and I heard the familiar tread of Teddy’s soft footsteps.

“Sela? You are still here,” he called out in a voice that rang with pleasure.

“Hello, Teddy.” I reached out for his arm, desiring him to stand close beside me. “We were just talking about you.” His face darkened substantially. “About your name,” I quickly explained. “Teddy.”

Marjorie was quick to intrude into our conversation. “I thought it was a cute sounding name!” she piped up. “Especially for a little boy.” She smiled at him agreeably, but Teddy could not reciprocate her feelings. “A nice pet name,” she added. “If I ever have another dog, I will give him that name.”

“Thank you,” he coldly replied, in a vain effort to hide his annoyance.

“I will just set your pie in a box, and then you can be on your way.” She turned around to retrieve the said item.

looked down at me from his long prominent nose. “What did she tell you?”

only talked about your name,

his eyes. “What name?” he demanded with a true fierceness

accosted him, as the other lady returned to

beside me, which only

raised with frustration as I added, “I only told her your

unlatched his arm from mine and stormed out of the bakery as fast as

this way around me. I could see his tall figure walking far away from the bakery and heading

Marjorie uttered with all astonishment. “In here? Well, good heavens.” She drew her hand up to cross herself, signaling a holy gesture that revealed her utter fear of this man that had just stepped into her shop. “You aren’t truly

her, for I was too dejected to even voice my thoughts aloud. A stack of bills was tossed over the counter-top, and with a small thanks, I picked up the heavy box of apple pie that was intended to go with our dinner for tonight. Needless to say I stormed out of there as fast as I could, probably from embarrassment and a sick overwhelming sense of shame. Perhaps, everyone was right all along.

upset to say the least, for I feared that this was all my fault. For some reason I keep saying the wrong things today, things that would only upset him. Perhaps, if I knew

because it was so old, and the matte navy-blue shade was most peculiar in comparison to other modern day cars. The parking lot was full, mostly because people were going into shops last minute or lining outside of local restaurants to celebrate Saturday night. A long sigh escaped me, for my emotions were getting the better of me. Perhaps, I was

his car doorway. I could hear the loud slamming of his door even from a distance. He rubbed his hand over the hood of his car profusely, as if he was trying to suppress his emotions before making

side of my neck and cheek. I could hear the roaring of car engines and the sounds

of this is your

I scolded him quite

I am sorry.” He raised a hand to rest over my right shoulder, feeling the thin fabric of

“Why not?”

group of men walking down the sidewalk, more rowdy than most people as they headed to a tavern. “Not here,” he emphasized, after he

his chest. “Here,”

he knew I was more than upset with him right now.

it an affectionate squeeze. I followed him willingly, bringing

grain of sanity that he needed for his own well-being. I was his calming classical music, the never-ending silence of his house, the peaceful lapses of the ocean on a cool spring day. I was his inspiration and

he uttered in a broken voice, after we reached his car. “If you want me to

can’t I say your real name,

my family has here,” he articulated in a

out sharply. “What kind of history? That woman back there, Marjory, she had nothing but fear in her

“Terrible things.”

“Like what?”

to talk about it,” he hushed. He turned his head to

promise to not mention your name in public

“Is it too much?”

look quite handsome,” I

“I like the lipstick you put on tonight. A light peach shade. I will remember that for the next time I draw your portrait. The one I