Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero.
~Marc Brown
I rushed through the big glass doors of Lehman’s Pharmacy. I was there to buy my grandmother’s hearing aid batteries while my mother waited outside in the car. She would notice if I took too long, but this was my chance to visit the love of my life — Artie.
I rushed to his aisle, and there he was, right where I last saw him: a brown, fuzzy little guy with a large tan nose that fit perfectly over my shoulder as I squeezed him tightly. I adored that aardvark stuffed animal.
But my mother noticed, saying, “You took a long time in Lehman’s — and I looked — there weren’t huge lines. Next time, your brother is going in with you.”
Oh, great! My brother, Rich, was going to accompany me into the pharmacy. He would watch me like a hawk and report everything to our mother.
I wasn’t going to give up seeing my precious Artie. So, as we walked into the store together, I suggested to Rich that he get the batteries, since he was older. He agreed, but said I shouldn’t be going off to look at the cosmetics, as I wasn’t allowed to wear them yet.
He needn’t have worried about that; I was already heading toward Artie. There he was, awaiting me. I grabbed him and hugged him tightly, his tan nose fitting perfectly on my shoulder. Just then, I heard him: “What in the world are you doing?”
My cover was blown. “This is Artie,” I said. “His nose rests perfectly on my shoulder, and I hug him every single time I come here. Don’t tell Mom. I know we can’t afford him, and I hope he doesn’t get sold, because I just love this little guy.”
The look on Rich’s face was unreadable, but I knew deep down that he wasn’t going to make fun of me. In fact, a few times when he accompanied me to the pharmacy, he said, “Go on and hug your ugly animal, if it’s still there, and I’ll get Gram’s batteries.”
One day, Rich was working with Dad somewhere, so Mom took me to Lehman’s alone and said, “You get to go in by yourself, again. Just don’t take forever, okay?”
I rushed into the pharmacy and went straight to Artie’s shelf. But he was gone. I searched high and low. I wanted to cry, but I kept holding out hope that Artie would be on one of the shelves that I hadn’t checked.
Suddenly, a voice from the counter interrupted my search. It was Mrs. Lehman herself. “Are you looking for that stuffed animal you hug every single time you’re here?”
“How did you…?”
“Know? We do have mirrors in the store, dear. See them? We can see almost everything. Honey, I’m sorry to tell you but someone came in here the other week and bought the aardvark.”
I was crestfallen.
“Dear, I am truly sorry. I know how much you loved him, but we carry stuffed animals to sell — not to hug and put back on the shelf.”
She was right — I knew she was right. So why did I feel so empty and upset? I weakly thanked her as I paid for Gram’s hearing aid batteries. Then I slowly walked out to my mom’s car with my head hanging low, trying to hide my tears. I prayed that Artie had found good home.
A month went by, and it was Christmas Eve. We were allowed to open one present that night and save the rest for Christmas morning.
Rich walked up to me and said nonchalantly, “Here, you may want to open this one, or you may not — it’s up to you.”
My interest was piqued. I shook it. It was soft. But it didn’t feel like clothing. My heart was thumping as I ripped open a section of wrapping paper and revealed a tan piece of cloth — a piece that resembled an aardvark’s nose! It was Artie!
I squealed with delight, my mother looked confused, and my brother smiled proudly as I hugged him. Then I hugged Artie close to me, his little tan nose resting perfectly on my shoulder.
~Rebecca L. Jones
