Page 42 of Morsel

“I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.”

“And what if I never believe you, Oscar?”

“You will,” I say. I smile at her, and then I climb off of the bed. I stride over to the wooden dresser that stands in the corner.

“What are you doing?” Dolly asks. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back.”

I open the top drawer. I pull out a jar of lotion, and I return to Dolly.

“You seem tense,” I say.

“What?”

“It’s been a long week.”

I wiggle my finger at her, gesturing for her to roll onto her tummy. Somewhat reluctantly, she does.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to help you with some of the tension.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Stop talking, Dolly.”

She’s quiet as I run my hands over her body.

“You’re very beautiful,” I tell her.

And she is.

“When I first hired you, I thought you’d make a great addition to our team,” I say.

“I thought Becky hired me,” she says.

“Becky was the head of the committee, but the final call was mine.”

“I never knew that.”

“I don’t like for people to know just how involved I can be,” I say.

“Why not? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Maybe,” I say.

“But maybe not?”

“People have a lot of opinions about me,” I say. “Many of them are not good ones, Dolly.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because the world can be a pretty terrible place,” I say. “People can do pretty terrible things.”

I grab the jar of lotion and open the lid. Then I rub some of the cream over my hands, warming it against my skin. When I start rubbing her back again, Dolly melts deeper into the bed.

“You think they’re lumping you in with your dad, huh?”

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