Page 239 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
You do.
“Don’t steal from the grave.” Her grip feels impossibly tighter as I lean forward.
It’s Mom and Dad, they’d give you anything.
“But they aren’t here to tell us that.”
My eyes roll at her goody-two-shoes attitude. I return to her side, and we stand in silence, letting minutes pass by.
We don’t move until the wind and rain pick up. A quick glance at my phone reveals the time has ticked past midnight, and we’ve spent the last minutes of our parents’ anniversary with them.
The weather worsens, rain pouring down on us both.
“It’s gonna ruin their flowers,” Dollie shouts over the wind.
As if by magic, an even bigger gust approaches, so strong it blows Dollie into me.
Dollie’s hair hides both of our eyes, and it’s a struggle to see anything until she reins it in, tucking it in her hood, then pulling it up. I help her tie a bow under her chin to keep it in place.
She hasn’t noticed it yet, the single rose that’s blown from the flowerpots and sits just before her muddy pink sneakers.
With a struggle, I bend to get it.
Her eyes light up at the sight.
All the other flowers huddle perfectly at the grave, the stone protecting them from the approaching storm.
I guess they really wanted you to have your rose.
Our fingers brush as I hand her the stem. Excitement prevents her from watching for thorns, and one pierces through her thumb. She whimpers in pain and takes her thumb to her mouth, numbing the injury with the heat inside her mouth. I can’t pull my eyes away from how she sucks. Luckily, she hasn’t noticed how my chest strains against my jacket, or anything going on lower, too enamored by her new gift.
Dollie tries to shield her flower from the rain, but her pocketless clothes make it hard.
Unzipping my jacket, I take it off and guide her arms through it. I take the flower from her, shielding it in an inside pocket, and then zip up my jacket.
Her smile lingers, eyes drifting between me and our parents.
Do you want to leave or stay?
“If we stay, we’ll catch our death and be joining them soon!”
It’s your call, I sign.
“I’d like to think they wouldn’t want that. I’ll race you to the car!”
We get to the car, and we’re both soaked to the skin as we drop inside.
Fog comes from our mouths, and our bodies move involuntarily in the cold. Water drops from my eyelashes as I start the engine and fumble with the dials, trying to blast the heaters.
Cold hands move to Dollie, and I unzip my jacket for her to shrug out of it.
Take this off, or your hoodie won’t dry, and you’ll catch a cold.
She nods, too cold to talk.
Before tossing my soaked jacket into the backseat, I collect her flower.
Our wet clothes are heavy on our bodies as I turn to her again, but I feel lighter as I hand Dollie her rose, and a smile breaks through the chattering of her teeth.
