Competition Thirty-Four Shortlisted: He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Emotional Support Penguin by Alison Wassell
For my fortieth birthday my mother buys me a stuffed penguin that weighs as much as a toddler. She saw an advert in her Facebook feed, she says, and right away thought of me.
“When you live alone, your body thinks you’re in danger, so you’re in flight or fight mode all the time. A weighted companion reduces your cortisol levels, calms your anxiety and improves your emotional stability. Like a weighted blanket, but more fun.”
I’ve never considered myself emotionally unstable, only chronically pessimistic. It’s a kind thought, though, and an improvement on last year’s gift, a subscription to an upmarket dating site that promised a suitable match in six months or my money back. I used the refund to buy a state of the art air fryer big enough to cook an entire Christmas dinner for one. Neither of us has ever mentioned it again.
I remove my penguin from his box and give him a tentative hug, wait for the feel-good hormones, dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin to kick in, but all I feel is burdened, heavy-hearted and just plain sad. His facial expression doesn’t help. He looks scared, and more in want of comfort than I am. Unaccustomed to being needed, I’m not sure what to do. All night I sleep propped up by pillows, cradling him in my arms like a newborn.
In the morning, my brain is heavy with new-to-me horrors; melting ice, rising sea levels, coastal erosion, overfishing, oil spills. Who knew a penguin had so much to worry about? He looks apologetic, as though he knows he’s not up to the assigned task and has only succeeded in making things worse. I give his back a reassuring pat.
“At least we have each other now,” I tell him.
Alison Wassell is a short story, flash and micro fiction writer with absolutely no ambition to write a novel. Her work has been published by Fictive Dream, The Phare, Ellipsis Zine, The Disappointed Housewife, Raw Lit, Idle Ink , Bath Flash Fiction Award and Retreat West.
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