Let’s Call Her Barbie

Let’s Call Her Barbie

Let’s Call Her Barbie

One evening when Elliot stops in Ruth’s office to let her know he’s leaving for the day, he finds her and Jack in a panic. There’s a bottle of scotch on her desk and half the room is wallpapered with giant sheets of paper filled with Ruth’s handwriting: Dilly-Dolly , My Big Dolly , Grown-Up Girly . When Elliot asks what’s going on, they tell him about a new doll that the Ideal Toy Company is releasing.

“And this isn’t another Betsy Wetsy,” says Jack, slicking his hair back with both hands. “It’s an adult doll.”

“What do you mean by adult?” asks Elliot.

“ Adult -adult,” says Ruth, her voice tinged with hysteria. “An adult, grown-up doll with high heels and a woman’s body and—Jesus Christ, I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Wait a minute, hold the phone—what exactly do you know about this doll?” Elliot asks, ever calm, ever levelheaded and practical, never rushing to conclusions. “It might not be anything like your doll. When’s it coming out?”

“A few weeks. A month. A year from now—I don’t know,” says Jack. “We just found out about it.”

“First thing you two need to do is calm down,” says Elliot. “For all you know, Ideal’s still in the early stages with this doll.”

“But we can’t afford to take that chance,” says Ruth. “This is what I’ve been afraid of all along. We have to be first to market. We have got to get this doll ready to go. No more delays. No more screwups.”

“I think you’re overreacting,” says Elliot, which only makes her glare at him. “There’s room in this market for more than one adult doll. Look at all the different baby dolls, all the toy guns. Everybody’s got a jack-in-the-box, a bouncy ball. You’ll see, it’ll be okay.”

“Easy for you to say.” Ruth hates it when he’s so logical, especially when her emotions take over. It makes her feel unhinged.

“Have either of you even seen their doll?”

“I’m trying to get my hands on one,” says Jack. “I’ve got calls out to Revlon and—”

“Revlon?” Elliot makes a face. “The cosmetics company?”

“Ideal partnered with them,” says Ruth. “They’re calling it the Miss Revlon Doll. They’re way ahead of us. We don’t even have a name yet.”

“Is that what this is all about?” Elliot gestures to the sheets of paper tacked up everywhere. “You’re great with names, Ruthie,” he says, trying to make her feel better. “You’re the one who came up with the Uke-A-Doodle, and Mattel—that was you, too. It’ll come. You can’t force it.”

“But I have to force it. We’re running out of time. We need a name now.”

“You two are making yourselves crazy,” says Elliot. “Creativity doesn’t work that way. Jack, you know that better than anyone. There’s a reason why the best ideas come to you in the shower, or when you’re out at the beach. You can’t keep grinding over it in your head. C’mon, let’s get out of here. You both need a change of scenery.”

They end up shooting pool at a bar near the airport that smells of stale beer and whose lights flicker every time a plane takes off or lands. Unfortunately, getting them out of the office hasn’t really helped matters. Now, instead of spiraling in her office, they’re doing it in a bar. While Elliot and Jack are shooting pool, Ruth is anxiously swerving left then right on her stool, shouting out names. “What about Fashion Franny? Or Melody Model?”

Elliot’s stayed out of it so far because this is their toy, not his, but he can’t stand watching them go at it like this. Naming a toy is like naming a baby. A name attaches a personality to that child, and after coming up with endless possibilities, you look at your newborn and just know which one is right. A toy is no different. He hasn’t wanted to overstep, but the ideal name is so obvious to him. All this time it’s been right there, hiding in plain sight.

“You know,” Elliot says, after Jack takes his next shot, “you both have some pretty important people in your lives named Barbara. You could call it the Barbara doll. Or the Babs doll. Or hey, even better—what about Barbie?”

Ruth stops fidgeting at the bar. Jack is still leaning over the pool table. They are frozen in place and looking at Elliot with their mouths open. Barbie. Barbie. Barbie. It’s fun-spirited, bouncy, and perky. It’s got a certain pizzazz and presence. It’s perfect.

Jack straightens up, smacking his forehead. “Why didn’t somebody think of that?”

“I just did,” says Elliot.

“It makes perfect sense,” says Ruth. “Our daughter, Jack’s wife!”

“A tribute to both our Barbaras,” says Jack.

“Oh, let’s do it,” says Ruth. “Let’s call her Barbie.”

It’s settled. Finally. They stay at the bar and celebrate with bottles of Miller High Life— the Champagne of Beers . This is a huge step, and they’re giddy with excitement and relief. With a name, their doll feels real. Now she’s more than just a hypothetical, more than just a concept.

“C’mon,” says Elliot, checking his watch and setting his empty bottle on the bar. “Drink up. It’s late, and we got a lot of work to do on this doll.”

“I don’t believe it.” Ruth looks at him, smiling. “Did I just hear you say we ? Does this mean you’re officially joining the doll team?”

“You mean the Barbie doll team,” says Elliot. He laughs, accepting the fact that if he wants to spend time with his wife, he needs to embrace her Barbie doll.