Page 8 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
“It’s where children go to live when they have no parents,” I answer quickly, hoping she’ll say no more until her mouth is empty.
The word,why,almost forms on her tongue.
So, I continue my mission to stop her talking. “Children go to orphanages when their parents have died.”
“Oh…” she drags out the word. “Is that why Katie and Amy are here?”
“Who are Katie and Amy?” Mom asks, and thank the heavens, her mouth is empty. Of course, it is. She’s barely eaten, constantly watching her weight.
Dollie shrugs. “I saw them upstairs. They told me my room would look nice painted pink or yellow.”
Like our coats.
Her imagination doesn’t stretch as far as she thinks it does.
Mom and Dad share a look of concern, almost as if they truly believe that little girl ghosts could haunt this place.
I don’t believe that, though. I wish I did.
Living in a haunted mansion would be a lot of fun.
However, Dollie has had dozens, maybe more, imaginary friends in the time I’ve known her, and I’ve only known her for three months.
“Mommy,” her voice, even while addressing someone else, calls me to her because she’s spitting crumbs across the table again. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep without Duggan.”
“It’s only one night, sweetie. You’ll be okay.”
“But it’s a new house, and it’s dark and scary. And his tie. I need his tie. I need Duggan.”
“Well, why don’t you and Ambrose stay in the bunk beds tonight? You can put your lilos on the bunks and look out for each other while Mom and I…talk.”
Snapping my head to the left, I feel the rush of heat on my cheeks as I silently fume at my father for volunteering me to play parent because he, the actual parent, doesn’t want to do his job.
“Oh, no, they can’t put those pool mattresses on the high bunk. What if one of them were to fall? We cantalkafter the kids go to sleep. Besides, it’s not fair to Ambrose. He’s probably tired after the long drive.” Mom’s smile is gentle, and I return it, appreciating her bailing me out. “I can stay with you until you fall asleep, baby.”
“I’m tired now.” Dollie yawns, but she won’t sleep yet. She hardly ever does.
“Shall I come and tuck you in after I clean this up?”
“That’s okay, love, we got it, right, champ?” Dad believes chores should be shared, and I agree, so I nod, taking another bite of pizza.
“Not scared of Dollancie’s story?” Dad quizzes, only after she and Mom have slid off their side of the bench and left the room.
“No,” I say after swallowing the last chunk of my pizza slice.
“I didn’t think so.”
Rising from my seat, I grip the greasy pizza box and limp to the huge paper bag they arrived in. The bag now acts as a trash can in the corner of the kitchen because we don’t have a real one yet.
The cold in this house affects my damaged joint, and it takes me longer to move around.
Taking in the space, I eye the dirty brown cabinets and the spider webs attached to them.
“I know it doesn’t look like much.” Dad strolls over, carrying everyone else’s boxes and leftovers, dumping them in the trash. “It’s one to fix up, and Mom will have so much fun doing it. Plus, it was a steal, and the school is good here, apparently. Hopefully, you’ll make lots of friends.”
“I like the house. It reminds me of the Addams Family. But I miss Ireland.” We’d only lived there for a couple of years, but we had roots there. I had grandparents. Something called a heritage.
“Yeah…I know, but it’s been three months since you moved back to the States. It’s time to look forward, not back.”
