My Sister's Teddy Bear

My sister left me her teddy bear when she started college.It really should?ve been our teddy bear. Dad won it for both of us at the Livingston County Fair and Rodeo on one of those rigged balloon popping games, shortly after the accident... Who knows how much money he must have poured into distracting us, but he probably could have purchased the real thing instead of the fuzzy, plush, entirely too comfortable human-size teddy bear. But Ted Danson (our dad picked the name) became part of the family, a symbolic memory of how our family got through the tragedy.Technically it was both of ours, but it had to stay in one room. And while I got visitation some nights, as time went on my dad became less vigorous about enforcing the rule about sharing, until even I began to think of it as Madison?s. I suppose we had our fair share of fights, but for the most part, I lived in awe of my older sister. Like every younger sophomore, I was always trying to fit in with her older, cooler friends. There had been this clash when I was still in junior high, when my sister was the sophomore, whre the location and age difference proved a barrier. But once I got to high school, there was a gradual blending of our worlds.For the past few years, we had been nearly inseparable, exactly like when we were kids. We played volleyball together, loved the same art teacher, and on some nights when I woke up from a particularly bad night terror, she let me sneak into her bed, head nestled against her larger bosom, soothed by the sound of her breathing?I have had night terrors since the accident. I can?t say that Madison became like a mom, that would have been too much to ask, but şişli escort bayan she tried to bridge the gap. She answered all those uncomfortable questions, helped me through those awkward questions and earlier bras, even if my chest never transformed to her size.We didn?t look anything alike, a constant source of anxiety for an introvert like me. Madison was blonde, I had darker, chestnut-colored hair. I guess we were both pretty, but in a different sort of way. Or maybe I was cute and she was hot. She had the flamboyant, flirting personality while I was the dark and brooding artist, more interested in my sketchbook then boys. She belonged as Prom Queen or Head Cheerleader, though both sorts of posturing were beneath her. I guess I was more the shy, kind of cool girl at the comic book store, the mythical one who actually enjoys the artwork.I didn?t really know what I was going to do without my sister. All of my friends had been inherited, and there was this gnawing dread that my popularity would wane without her. And that I wouldn?t do a damn thing to stop it.Of course, I got more hand-me-downs with the course of her move. It brought me to tears several times (an easy enough thing to do), reminding me too much of the day we went through all of Mom?s things, deciding what to keep and what to throw away. I remember thinking identical thoughts about each object, from the old torn and stained script of that freshman play to those Taco Bell advertisements.Stupid, I know, but everything they made me throw away made me feel as though it was another part of her I would forget. It was the same thing with Mom. Each of these things came imbued şişli escort bayan with a memory, and yeah I might just hold onto that time we stole a box of advertising pamphlets and built them into a paper house while Martin looked frantically for them...But what if I forgot?What if I forget that senior English paper Madison turned on The Grapes of Wraith? How I?d noticed the spelling mistake right before fifth period when it was far too late to do anything about it? What if I forgot that ratty looking trapper keeper she carried to class, those days she bothered to bring as much a pencil?There were many patient arguments (ok, temper tantrums) as we decided what to pack, what I would keep, and what to throw away. Okay, so I didn?t take it well. I inherited enough nonsense to be a cold open on a hoarding documentary, but the big haul was her old computer now that she had a new laptop to take with her to college. And of course, Ted Danzon, who began to serve as a pillow/surrogate sister. I would sleep in on his oversized chest, draping his heavy arms around me, noticing that he still smelled like her?School had been the hardest, it was a place that I had only experienced through Madison, my sherpa through the maze of high school. Feeling alone and isolated, I withdrew a lot at the start of my junior year, feeding into my depression. I harbored this thought, the idea that Mom?s death had been harder on everyone else, because Dad and Madison had to look after me.I was wallowing.It was a month before I used the computer to fill out an SAT registration. But once I finished, I started casually clicking around, finding a treasure trove of memories. mecidiyeköy escort There were pictures of all of us, different plays and short stories I?d written, memes and inside jokes, enough of a virtual claptrap of nostalgia to satisfy me for weeks...I don?t even know what anything was labeled. Madison had the tendency of naming her files based on whatever feeling she currently wanted to express. So documents titled Fuck Me Or Ms. K Takes It Up the Ass were actually old homework assignments. But I was doing a thorough search, really wading into the depths of self-pity when I saw the first one?Madison posed up against the gigantic teddy bear, her legs and ass on display in those tight-fitting black volleyball shorts. But there was no sports bra or uniform on her bare back. It was almost tasteful, like a 1950?s cheesecake shot a wife might send her soldier. Still, my eyes lingered on the bulge of her breasts, her nipples hidden by Ted?s fur. I shot him a knowing look, then let out a laugh.I knew my sister had sex. Telling me the details had been part of the deal in exchange for me covering with Dad. But this was new. But from the timestamp on the webcam, I couldn?t match up the photo with any ex-boyfriend.Had she just done this for fun?There were dozens of other pictures and videos in the innocuously titled file. For days, I blocked out my curiosity, trying to respect her privacy even as those rationalizations snuck into my head. After all, we had showered together on the team. I?d seen her naked and knew all about the three men she?d fucked. But it became an obsession. Most of all, I remembered the look on her face, how much fun she seemed to be having in this private display of exhibitionism. It was so her. And yet I didn?t think entirely about her face. I tried rationalizing it away even as I squirmed in my seat, trying to pretend my pussy wasn?t responding to these incestuous thoughts.