2. Youre the one

2

You're the one

Anita

A s I leave the little toy store and make my way down the street, I replay the interaction over and over. I shouldn’t have let him give me the duckie. It sort of feels like stealing from a sweet old man. I wonder if the cost will come out of his paycheck. Or if the owner will be angry.

I’ll have to go back and pay him once I have another job. But right now, fifteen dollars is enough to pay my cellphone bill, or get three microwave dinners, or two bags of coffee beans. All of those things are more important than a sentimental toy from my childhood.

But… I couldn’t just walk out of there and refuse either. It was like something was drawing me to this toy. More than a memory, a promise that the future would be brighter than today.

My old Rubber Duckie got me through the worst days of my life—until I left home for college. My mom convinced me not to take it with me, and when I came back for winter break, she’d gotten rid of half my things.

Today was the kind of day that made me miss that little yellow duck. So when I saw this one in the window, it felt like fate. I can’t wait to get home, draw a bath, and tell my Duckie all my problems just like I used to.

Looking at the toy in my hand, I don’t notice the mud on the sidewalk until I slip, slide forward, and land in a puddle on my ass.

“This fucking day,” I mutter under my breath.

A woman walking by gives me a scolding look, but I’m too exhausted to care about some stranger’s judgement over my public use of a curse word. I just want to get home.

When I finally reach my apartment and step inside, my roommate runs over and throws her arms around my neck.

“You’ll never guess what happened!” She’s strong enough to pick me up and spin us around in a circle. “I got the job!”

“What job?”

She puts me down and rolls her eyes. “You know, the job . The one in London.”

Months ago, she’d mentioned off-handedly that she was going to apply for some position in London. She told me it was a long shot, and she wasn’t likely to get it, so when she didn’t mention it again, I assumed it fell through.

“Anita!" she yells. "I’m leaving in three days!” She jumps up and down, too excited to contain her movements or the volume of her voice.

“I’m happy for you, Haley.” Really, I am, even if I don’t feel it right at this moment. Having to find a new roommate on short notice is the last thing I want to do right now. “Let me get cleaned up and we can have some dinner together to celebrate.”

“Oh, let’s order sushi.”

I cringe, knowing the cost, but she doesn’t notice because she’s already got her phone to her ear. I’m sure she’s calling her favorite sushi place down the street.

Leaving her to work out dinner, I make my way through my room and into my bathroom and set the Rubber Duckie on the cracked counter. This apartment isn’t the best. The drywall is flaking, there are stains on the tile floors, and the fixtures are all outdated by at least three decades, but the bathtub makes up for all of it.

Each bedroom has its own private bathroom with a clawfoot tub deep enough to sink up to my neck in bubbles. I chose the apartment based on the bathtub alone.

Now that I have my Rubber Duckie, it’s truly perfect.

“So, what do you think, Duckie? Should we take a bath now or later?” This is exactly why I loved my old Duckie. It helped me process aloud all the things I had bouncing around in my head, all the decisions that left me overwhelmed throughout the day, from the mundane like whether I should take a bath before dinner to the monumental like how the hell I’m going to pay the bills without a job or a roommate.

Of course, the duck says nothing, but that’s part of the benefit too.

“The food won’t take long,” I say aloud, while stripping out of my mud splattered pants. “But I’m all gross and dirty.” Pulling my thick sweater over my head, I continue to deliberate. “I could take a quick bath, but who wants to do that? Baths are meant to be relaxing, not rushed.” Patting its little yellow head, I say, “You’re right. Shower now. Bath later.”

Leaving Duckie on the counter, and turning my back, I turn the water as hot as it’ll go. While I wait for it to warm up, I unclasp my bra and shimmy out of my undies, then step immediately into the shower.

Peeking around the shower curtain, I give my new Rubber Duckie a cheeky wink. “Don’t look, Duckie.”