Page 16 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
“Is it strawberry, like me?”
“No… it’s coconut.”
“Eww. Who picks coconut-flavored ice cream!”
On our way out, I hear the lady at the register tell Dad, “You never get two the same.”
Nope. We’re nothing alike. Not in looks. Not in personality.
Dad agrees, then steps outside, guiding us across the street to the parlor.
We never got ice cream. Not coconut, not strawberry. As we reached the parlor, Mom was on the phone, and me and everyone else could hear her shrieking down the line and into Dad’s ear. Something had burst at home, and there was dirty water everywhere.
Everywhere downstairs.
Upstairs is clear, aside from the mustier-than-usual air, but the windows are open, and the smell of paint is starting to overpower it.
The black on my brush glides over the wall, hiding the headless child.
“Amrose…” The way she drags out my name tells me she wants something.
Twisting my head, I see Dollie’s popped around my door, long hair flowing down.
“What is it?” What exactly do I have to do, as Mom and Dad can’t currently tend to Dollie’s every need.
“I was just wondering if you wanted to watch a movie with me. I have a window seat and a dome above my room. You can sit in it with me if you want. Katie and Amy are in my room, and I’m a little nervous because they’ve been whispering scary stuff.”
I don’t bother telling her that Katie and Amy aren’t real, but I have to tell her, “The TVs aren’t set up yet.”
“I have my portable one, and I’d love…” she drags out the word love. “To watch a movie with my favorite brother in my new favorite spot. Or even the window seat! It’s the best seat in the house.”
Sure, it is… all the others are wooden and rotting.
With another stroke of my brush, more black is on the wall.
“Please…”
Sighing, I nod and place my paintbrush in the can, not stopping it as the paint pulls it down and stains half of the handle.
“Yay!” she rushes off but returns a second later, knowing I’m slower in all I do these days because of the crutch, because of the injury, because my broken heart in my chest that’s bleeding over the fact that I can barely walk, and I’ll never dance again.
Dollie starts questioning why I wanted theflashlightthat I’d left on my bed. Apparently, she needs it more to scare off the shadow monster hiding under the bed in her room.
I don’t agree to give it to her as she takes it, but thinking about it, I’m happy to never go inside the walls again, with all the spiders and whatever else. So, I don’t fight for the right to keep the flashlight, either.
Dollie takes my hand and guides me to her room. I haven’t seen it yet, and Mom and Dad will be pleased to see that we’re willingly spending time together, but all I can think of is how she’s gonna insist on her new Barbie movie that she’s watched on repeat for days, the one with the ballet dancing. And it’s gonna hurt as much as my leg.
CHAPTER 4
Dollie—present day
Atantrum at the next table makes my nerves worse than they already are, and I shake lightly in my chair. Apparently, the toddler disagrees and feels she definitely wants a second dessert.
I agree with her, anything for her to stop the tears and hide those tiny fangs that just sank into her father for telling her no.
He should have given in. As the saying goes, anything for a quiet life.
That’s why I’m here, in this restaurant, sitting across from my soon-to-be in-laws, who have never strung more than a handful of conversations with me in the ten years I’ve known them.
