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Toy Story: Mister Spaceman

Interlude III: Time's Eye

"Perhaps you should go and see him."

"Not really, Sally."

"Why? Is it because he didn't invite you to his birthday party? Or that you'd only talk to him for a few minutes?"

Hannah Phillips didn't answer. Nor did Sally say anything. After all, Sally was a doll, and like all toys, she wouldn't 'speak' without her owner's input. So as fun as it was to pretend otherwise, as both doll and owner looked out the kitchen window to the street beyond (and specifically the giant moving truck that took up most of the view), Hannah knew that words didn't count for much right now. And even if they did, the sound of a lorry's engine had drowned them out long ago.

Nevertheless, she stood there in the kitchen. Peering out. Wondering if now, she should go over and say "hi" to the boy next door. Because on one hand, she had nothing to lose. Sid was too busy setting something up in the yard to worry about what his sister was doing, so even if she talked to Andy, there was no way Sid could ruin things for either of them. But on the other hand, this was Sid. He had a way of ruining things without even trying.

Sighing, she looked at Sally. Part of the same Cuddlies series as Janie, Betty, and half a dozen other dolls. Only unlike those dolls, Sally still had her head. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday, Sid would get his hands on her. Do one of his 'operations.' He still hadn't even returned Janie's body yet.

"You'll keep me safe, won't you?" Sally asked.

Hannah didn't answer, as she kept a lookout. Who was she even kidding, she wondered? Andy had had his birthday party a week ago. One that she hadn't been invited to, because despite being next door neighbours, they'd barely interacted, and she doubted he even knew she existed. She'd watched as the kids had arrived, noting that there were more presents entering next-door in a day than she received at Christmas and her birthday combined. And while jealousy didn't become her (as Janie had pointed out before her decapitation), she couldn't help but reflect on the irony of it all. Andy Davis got to move to a new house, away from Sid Phillips, while she was stuck in the same house.

Sally would have pointed out that wasn't actually ironic, if not for the doorbell.

Andy?

She put Sally down on the windowsill, before walking towards the front door. It was 7:15, and apart from her brother, she was the only one who was up. Since dinner from two nights ago, her father had barely left the bedroom, and when she'd tried visiting him yesterday, had found him snoring away in front of the TV screen. Her mother, who'd served that night's leftovers as dinner the night before, had yet to rise. So as the doorbell continued to ring, she knew she was the only one who could answer it.

"Alright, I'm coming," she called out, quickening her pace, but not too much. The chance of the boy next door coming to see her…there was a greater chance of her brother giving her back Janie than that. Six years of living in this house had told her not to get her hopes up. But even so, with a spring in her step, and a beat in her heart, she threw open the door, ready to see who had deemed fit to visit the Phillips household in this early hour and-

Huh?

It was no-one. Or, they were nowhere. But either way, staring through an open door, Hannah saw nought but an empty door, and beyond that, an empty street.

She looked out into the early morning light. Was it a prank? It wouldn't be the first time that Stuart Avenue had seen doorbell vandals (led by her own brother, of course), and even with Sid in the yard, one of his cronies could have been giving her the run-around. Or maybe she was going mad. Yesterday, she could have sworn she'd heard her mum call out to her, causing her to leave her room, only to find that mum hadn't called for her at all. Reflecting on it now, maybe she'd-

She yelled, as something ploughed into her from behind. Knocked over, she landed on the floor with a thud, pain shooting through her back. But, sitting up, the pain faded, as anger subsumed it.

"Scud!"

The mongrel was barking away in front of her. The damn mutt had heard the doorbell and come rushing down like a…a…oh, that dog from that Greek mythology comic book she'd read once. Whatever its name. She couldn't remember, and it didn't matter, because unlike that dog, Scud was real, Scud had knocked her over, and Scud, the idiot, was still barking at the outside light.

"Stupid dog!" She slammed the door in front of Scud's face, half-wincing, half-grinning, as she heard a 'thud' against it, followed by even more barking. Wincing, because of the pain still shooting through her back, and now, her caboose. Grinning, because the mutt who'd knocked her over had finally got a taste of his own medicine.

In the end though, the wincing won out. Because it didn't change the fact that Andy was still leaving, and that he hadn't come to see her as some kind of last goodbye. Come the day's end, he'd still be gone, Scud would still be in this house, and her brother would still be a monster.

"Oh dear, are you alright?" Sally asked, as she walked back into the living room.

"An incident with a foul mongrel of disreputable breeding," Hannah said, as she sat in the chair beside her doll. "Nothing you need concern yourself with."

"But I am concerned," Sally said.

"Really? What about?"

"About you, for starters. And Miss Nesbit."

"Mrs Nesbit, Sally. She is married, after all."

"Fine. But where is she?"

That, Hannah didn't know. Nor did Sally, because as much as she willed it, Sally was a doll, Sally wouldn't speak without her, and Sally couldn't get back that spaceman toy back that she'd found yesterday. One of Sid's, no doubt – it even had a broken arm. But no sooner had she dropped her guard, had her brother snatched it out of her room. Thankfully, without wrecking her tea party set in the process.

"Have you had breakfast?" Sally asked.

"Yes," Hannah lied.

"Leftover pop tarts does not a breakfast make," Sally insisted. "Go. Now. And then we can watch My Little Pony."

Hannah glanced at the living room TV – an old, battered, dusty relic that only had five channels, and didn't get a good reception. The one in her parents' room had cable, yet her father hogged it. Gran Gran, when she'd come round, had spent an inordinate time amongst the downstairs TV though, and for Hannah, she'd savoured every moment of it. Gran Gran had let her watch what she wanted, and not let Sid shove her aside to watch his stupid Combat Carl cartoons. And with Sid out in the yard, her parents asleep, and My Little Pony starting in fifteen minutes…

"Alright," said Hannah, smiling. "A quick breakfast, and then, we shall amuse ourselves with tales of little equi…equin…equinin…ponies."

Sally, to her gratitude, didn't tell her that she needed to work on her vocabulary. Nor that she needed to stop showing off – a lesson she'd learnt at school, once she'd discovered the toxic combination of being smart, and Sid's sister – two pieces of resentment that kids in her year had reason to tease her for. Just thinking of it now…it was summer, and school was weeks away, but even so…

She walked into the kitchen, ready to give herself a somewhat healthy breakfast, before her brother burst in from the yard outside. Trembling. His face pale and sweaty, as if he'd seen a ghost.

Sid?

"The toys! The toys are alive!"

Hannah stared at her brother, still trembling like a leaf in a storm. Toys alive? Hah, if only, she supposed, as she clutched Sally. Afraid that in this moment of madness, her brother might take her like he had Janie. And as his eyes widened, as his gaze lingered on Sally herself…

"Nice toy…" he whispered

Hannah glanced at Sally, then at Sid. Smiled, as a spark lit inside her mind. A smile that endured, as she thrust Sally towards her brother's face. As he screamed in terror. As, still screaming, he ran up the stairs.

"What's wrong Sid? Don't you want to play with Sally?"

Her brother, still screaming, clearly didn't. Which was fine. For as long as Hannah could remember, Sid had tormented her. Now, if only for a moment, the tables were turned. Whatever had caused him to get into this state didn't matter. All that did matter was that for once, he was at her mercy, and she was going to make the most of it.

"Stay away!"

He ran into his room and slammed the door, locking it. Only two days ago, she'd been running after him, as he'd stolen Janie from her, and brought her inside into his little shop of horrors. Now, her doll was on her side of the door. And like Hannah, she wasn't backing down.

"Mama," said Sally.

"Hear that Sid? Sally likes you!" Hannah called out.

There was no sound from the other side. Which was far less satisfying than hearing her brother whimpering like an infant, but it was something, at least.

"Sid?" Hannah asked, putting on a ghost voice. "Come out, Sid. The toys are coming to getttt youuu…"

Still no sound. None but the sound of Sally's hands pounding against the door.

"Sid…" Hannah whispered, like a zombie. "Want your brains, Sid…brainsss…"

Sally wasn't a zombie, but she was the best thing they had. Sid had lied to her when they'd watched Night of the Living Dead, as to when she could open her eyes, but at least, the experience had taught her how to do the whole brain-eating thing.

"Sid…" Hannah whispered. "Come out and play, Sid…"

There was still no answer. Not for the next minute or so.

Or for the next five minutes.

Or ten.

"Sid," Hannah whispered. "You coming out?"

Or fifteen.

"Sid, are you okay?"

Or twenty.

"Sid, you…" She sighed, and slumped down against the door. "Sid, I'm sorry, okay? I…"

She couldn't' say it. She didn't want to admit the glee she'd felt when she'd seen the terror in her brother's eyes. The joy at, for once, having power over him, than the other way round. To hear him scream and whimper, like he'd done to her as long as she could remember. But now that the tables were turned, she had to admit…this wasn't as fun as she thought it would be.

"Sid, do you want me to get mum?"

For a good five, ten minutes tops, she'd been a bully. And while she knew Sid deserved it…she didn't want it to be like this. Because something had spooked her brother, and even if it was toys of all things…this was real.

"Sid?"

There was still no answer. Sighing, Hannah looked at Sally. Her doll's wide smile giving her cold comfort in this moment. She'd heard the moving van move away. Scud had stopped barking. Her parents weren't up yet. And her brother had locked himself in his room, and he wasn't coming out. Right now, she was by herself. Alone.

"Mama," Sally said.

Hannah looked down at her doll and smiled. "What do you think, Sally? Did I go too far?"

"I love you," the doll answered.

Hannah sniffed, and brought Sally in close. "Of course you do," she whispered, as she sat in the hallway, alone. Her brother in his room, her parents in theirs, and the boy she'd crushed on for years gone forever.

"Of course you do…"

"Of course you do…"

She wasn't awake, nor was she in slumber. She wasn't dreaming, nor was she remembering. She wasn't talking in her sleep, but she was doing the next best thing, as her lips moved, and her mind shifted.

There was a glow from the lamp post outside, shining light into her tiny, single-bunk dorm, but it was pallid compared to the glow of her phone. The one that gave her the date, and the time of 3:55AM.

Thunder rumbled in the air, and the rain kept coming down. It had started late yesterday evening, and now, in the morning's early hours, it still kept coming.

She sat on the edge of her bed, and looked at the books and clothes scattered on the floor. Her first year into this course, and already, it felt like she was drowning. As if the rain from the world beyond had entered her room. Entered her very body. Dragging her down into the soil, and then pushing her ever further down. She could imagine herself reaching up to the scholarship she'd been awarded, but instead, the piece of paper would hit her over the head. Press her further down into the mud, rather than offer her a lifeline out of it.

And yet, she reminded herself, it was a lifeline. It was a way out from the lives the rest of her family had fallen into. A family that kept coming back into her head, ever since she'd met Andy again. Call it serendipity, call it fate, the boy from next door was back in her life and…

And she sighed, as she lay back down on the bed. She didn't know if it was romantic, or pathetic. She'd had a lifetime of her father and brother conflating the two. On some level, she was pathetic, she told herself. Which made her wonder if that's why she liked spending so much time with him. It made her forget about who she was. What she was.

He made her smile, and do all other manner of crazy things. Such as, in the early morning hours, dial his number on her phone, and press it against her ear. As she lay her head down on the pillow, the dial tone serving as a faux lullaby. Willing her to go to sleep.

"Hello?"

The lullaby stopped, however, as she heard Andy's voice on the other end of the line. Causing her heart to skip a beat, as thunder rumbled.

"Hello?" came the muffled voice.

She cleared her throat. "Hey, Andy…"

"Hannah?"

She forced a chuckle. "Did I wake you?"

"Hannah, it's…hold on…Hannah, do you know what time it is?"

She remained silent.
"It's four AM."

"No it's not, it's only three-fifty-eight."

There was no answer on the other end. And as much as she wanted to talk, as much as she wanted to hear his voice…she knew that this wasn't the time to do it.

"You're right," she whispered. "It's four. I shouldn't have called. I-"

"Hannah, are you okay?"

"Oh, fine," she said. "Absolutely fine."

"Hannah, come on…what's up?"

He sounded more awake now. "Just…thinking."

"Thinking? About what?"

"About home. Family. Dreams, memories…homesickness…" She bit her lip, before asking, "was it like this for you when you left?"

There was no answer.

"Andy?"

"Absolutely," he said.

She bit her lip, as she looked at the window. At the light beyond. "Does it get better?"

"Eventually, yeah. But…well, home's where the heart is, I guess? You can leave it, you can grow up, you can…meet certain people who call you before sunrise…"

She smiled.

"But yeah. Home's gonna be in your heart, or something."

"Or something," she repeated. "For me, it's the 'or something.'"

"Maybe."

He didn't sound convinced. Maybe because she wasn't either.

"Listen, Hannah, usually it's nice talking to you, but…is there anything else?"

There was. But he sounded tired, and she wasn't so cruel as to keep Andy from Nod. So, in a whisper, she said, "no."

"Oh." He almost sounded disappointed. "Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight," she whispered, before adding, "oh, and by the way?"

There was no answer.

"Happy birthday."

"…thanks, Hannah."

Technically, his birthday was the day before. Technically, it was eight hours ago, since Andy Davis had been born at Allen-Banks Hospital, at 8pm, on July 22, 1989. She knew, because he'd told her – one of those little titbits that had let slip over the last two months they'd spent together.

"Well, goodnight."

"Andy, I…"

And in the spirit of sharing little titbits, she uttered the next words that came to her mouth.

"…I love you."

The words hung in the air. Sweet or smelly, but removed from the detritus that covered the floor.

"Just wanted to say that," Hannah added.

It seemed odd, to say that now. They'd talked, they'd even kissed, they'd done any number of things that would make any normal person consider them a couple. But to say those words here…now…in this way…She wrapped a hand around her chest. Her heart was beating, her stomach was tightening, and there was a tingle between her legs, which in turn, had a spring in their step. As if her feat had become lead, yet couldn't weigh her down.

"I know," Andy said. "I…know, that you know, and I know…think…it's what I know, and…"

Hannah laughed. "Goodnight, Andy."

She hung up and looked at the time. 4:02AM. Three hours sleep awaited her, before she had to get up, shower, have breakfast, and hopefully meet her boy…significant other…to discuss birds, bees, and butterflies.

Betrothals?

She climbed back into bed, smiling. For the first time in a long time, thinking of the future rather than the past.

Thinking how quiet it was.

Thinking, and smiling, as she glanced at the window, and beheld how at last, the tears of the sky had ceased.