The Tragic Tale of Teddy Woven

The ringing of the phone alarmed me at first, breaking me out of my daydream. A towel was tossed over my soaking wet hair and then I sprinted out of the bathroom to find my phone. It was perched over the left side of the couch closest to the door, flashing a bright white light to the darker part of my living room.

“Hello?” My towel was nearly slipping off the side of my head, so I threw it over the back of my shoulder to catch the water that was steadily dripping downwards.

“Sela,” a distinctive Polish accent rang through the speakers. “Hello?”

“Oh, Daphne!” I cried out with pure joy. “It is so good to hear from you again. How are you?”

“Oh,” was murmured faintly, a sound that I barely detected through the speakers. “I’ve been better. I am home now. I haven’t spent much time here, and it feels strange without my husband.”

“Is he any better?”

“Getting there.”

I brushed back a printed orange and red pillow before I took a seat at the edge of my couch. It was late Thursday evening, and I was nearly ready for bed. “Daphne? Are you ready to go back to work on Monday?”

“As long as I work a short morning shift at Woven’s, then I should be fine.” She cleared her throat a little. “I’d give you my afternoon shifts, but I know your time is occupied already.”

“Yes, my schedule is full.”

“I will have to contact one of my other employees then,” she surmised in a tired voice. “But, how are you doing at Woven’s?”

“Oh, I am fine,” I lied, while squinting my eyes funnily. I tried to push back the awkward drive to the bus terminal that I had to endure this afternoon from my mind. “Well, you see…”

“Is he giving you any trouble?” my manager asked with worry. “Sela?”

“No, not really.” I pulled up the towel to cover my damp hair more, for I was currently experiencing a chill. “I didn’t take your advice. I spoke to him…” My gaze lowered to my lap with a feeling of remorse. “And he spoke to me.”

yelled over the phone. “I’ve spoken to him

out upon the

mustn’t say anything, my dear, but he could not hire anyone in the town.” Her laughter rang through the speakers, increasing in time. “Town gossip,” she quipped. “But, Sela, you must not

“Town gossip?”

nothing,” she said in a way to drop

me to stay away from

is a troubled man, Sela. You have a good heart. Incredibly sweet. A nature

“Yes?”

voice that was full of concern. “You would only

him?” I piped up, after I

alone,” she warned. “It would be in your best interest to stick to your

if I don’t want to?” I interjected. “What if I want to help

don’t understand, my dear,” the old lady

out a low sigh, and then fell upon the pillow at the

still a victim to it! You would do right to stick

heat across the sides of my cheeks from embarrassment. “I’ve

do you

coffee together in the morning, and then we share lunch. He even drives me to the bus terminal after work, and one time he drove me all

go into the house is to use his washroom,” Daphne commented in a low tenor. “I would be flattered if he brought out

I interrupted her. “I have spent most of my

takes a romantic interest in you. He hardly spent more than five minutes of his time around me. That man often spends his mornings in his art studio,

wonderful paintings,”

Daphne questioned me with a painful sound to

“You’ve never seen them?”

bakery there with sandwiches that are to die for. You should try it sometime. Oh, look! I am blabbing again.” Her soft laughter echoed on her end of the phone line. “Whatever you do, Sela, do not mention you work at the Woven’s residency. The locals will tell you such frightful tales! They will say the