23. Dollie—present day
Dollie—present day
W aving Annabelle off at the door laces me with anxiety, but I stand there with a smile on my face as she starts her little yellow car.
“You call me if you need anything,” she shouts through her open window before feeding my anxiety and reversing too close to the cliff’s edge.
I scrunch my eyes closed. I cannot look.
The small engine screams as the tires turn through mud, and her high-pitched car horn alerts me to her safety.
“Good luck!” I shout.
She has a lot of big meetings this week. If she can face all those board members, I can face a few nights alone in this house.
I click the doors shut behind me, wiggling them that special way, and turn the key.
Annabelle checked that I was home alone before leaving, and there have been no intruders since the friendly one. The one my broken mind briefly told me was Ambrose.
I still scan the second floor and check everywhere, from behind the old floral curtains to under the kitchen table as I wander through the house.
I tempt a traumatic fate by calling out, “Mom? Dad?”
The echo of the doorbell rattles me, causing me to jump, but it’s the only thing I hear.
There are no replies from my parents as I cautiously head back to the foyer.
I’m not expecting anyone, so someone being here gives my arms goosebumps. I rub them through my hoodie.
“Hello?” I call from one side of the thick wood to the other.
“Dollancie, it’s me.”
“Who is me, exactly?” It isn’t a voice I recognize instantly.
“It’s Nyx. Annabelle asked me to stop by and take a look at your window. She said something about a crack.”
“Oh, yes. I think kids did it while trying to scare me the other night.” I’ve chosen to believe the logical explanation.
I unlock the door and find Nyx on my doorstep in his work clothes. The sun peeks through dark clouds, highlighting his dirty blond hair. “But I can’t let you in.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have money for the window right now.”
“That’s okay. A favor for a friend.” He smiles.
“No, I can’t do that.”
“Okay. How about a cupcake? My little sister really liked the ones you and your boyfriend—sorry, former boyfriend—had in town a few days back.” He pauses, scratching his head. “Are you okay about that situation?”
“It blows my mind, to be honest. How you can live with someone and not even know who they really are, despite clues.”
“Love is blind, so that’s understandable. At least you’re out of it. It might not feel great now, but in time, it’ll get better.”
I agree silently, hoping that Shane won’t stop by while Annabelle’s away and I’m alone with the ghosts. It would be so easy for him to use my fears and weave his way back into my life.
“Where is she, anyway? Your sister. School?”
Maybe all that sounded a little too eager to change the subject. But I needed to, and Nyx’s little sister is too good a way to do it because she’s usually his shadow, if his socials are accurate.
Their fifteen-year age gap means nothing. Back in our teens, when their parents passed away shortly before mine and made him eighteen with full custody of a three-year-old, the locals felt sorry for him. There was no college or parties for him. No future, people said.
How wrong they were.
I feel the opposite looking at him now.
The warmth in his heart when he speaks of his sister makes it clear he’s winning at life.
“She attends a special school. It’s a center for children with developmental differences. She’s there with her mentor. That’s who you saw her with in town. He takes her out occasionally.”
“It’s really nice how close you guys are.”
“She’s my best friend.”
“A cupcake still doesn’t seem fair to me.” I let the door take my weight.
“It would mean the world to her.”
“Well, I have some supplies. Let’s see how many cupcakes I can make in the time it takes to fix a window.
” I let Nyx inside, locking the door once he and his tools stepped into the foyer.
“How is she doing? I tried to talk to her in town, but I can be kinda awkward, and I don’t think she recognized me. ”
“Maybe not. She was young when you left. But she’s good. The center is amazing, and there are other children with Down syndrome. She has friends. She’s got her first crush on a kid around her age. I shouldn’t feel nervous because don’t we all get one at that age?”
My smile almost drops, remembering how emotional I was at that age. And how all those emotions circled one boy.
“But, you know, she’s my baby sister.”
“And you’re feeling all protective and stuff.” The goosebumps are back again, and I’ll blame the memories for them—memories of my own protector.
“Always.” He gives me a wink. “Remind me which way the kitchen is. I always thought this place was like a maze.”
“Oh, it’s huge. I don’t know what my parents were thinking. It’s right through there.” I point, but inevitably end up overtaking when Nyx stalls, eyes on the damaged wall. “This way.”
“Do you need that done, too?” He points to the hole.
“Oh, it’s okay. I don’t want to trouble you.”
“It’s fine, really. I have nowhere to be. I don’t usually work Tuesdays.”
“Then why are you—oh.” I stop myself, realizing what’s happening. “Annabelle asked you to stop by to make sure I’m okay, didn’t she? The window is an excuse.”
“Well, the window does need fixing, and I am a handyman.”
“Even on your day off?”
“Why not?” Nyx steps into the kitchen, and I follow him to the window. “It’s gonna need a new glass.”
“That sounds expensive.”
“It’s not too bad. I get a discount. This one really isn’t worth fixing. It’s a single pane. I’m kinda shocked it survives the bad weather we get, with you being so high up and all. I’ll call my supplier.”
“And I’ll start on the cupcakes.”
“I will happily eat one on the job if you promise never to tell Stasia.”
I zip my lips and toss an invisible key over my shoulder.
“It’s good to see you, Dollancie. Welcome home.”
Thirty-six cupcakes. That’s how many cupcakes I can make in the time it takes to change a window.
Six cupcakes is how many Nyx can eat on the job.
Both of us could have probably worked a little faster if we weren’t talking every other minute.
Nyx never brought up my family. And it was refreshing to just talk to someone about the boring topics in life.
It took my mind off being in this house, and with him here, it didn’t feel like a scary place.
But now he’s gone.
Memories taunt me as I enter the reading room.
Memories of my mother and the ornaments she collected.
None of which are on the floor now. Thanks to Annabelle and Nyx, the room looks something like it did two mornings ago, but without the things that gave it character.
The broken mirror I’d tried to avoid looking in, the miniature clock, and those awful accusations peeping through the paint.
My phone buzzes in my hand. I’ve carried it around since Nyx left after giving him my number purely for friendship purposes.
The name, Your Besty Annabelle, pops up on my screen as I sit on the lounge, Duggan at my side.
A tiny smile that I instantly feel guilty for pulls at my lips because I did not have her listed as that yesterday.
Your Besty Annabelle:
How are you doing, Dollie darling?
Dollie:
I’m okay, but I’ve only been alone for like 10 minutes.
Your Besty Annabelle:
Oh, Nyx did stop by then?
Dollie:
I felt so bad. I couldn’t even pay him.
Your Besty Annabelle:
Don’t worry about it.
I was talking to him last night. He was happy to help.
Did he look hot in the work gear?
Dollie:
I didn’t look.
Your Besty Annabelle:
You blind?
Dollie:
Right now, I might as well be.
Your Besty Annabelle:
You already are. Trust me. He’s too cute not to notice.
Dollie:
Anyway… off the subject of men. How’s the trip?
Your Besty Annabelle:
Eh… it’s a work trip. So much fun.
Dollie:
Is that a harsh amount of sarcasm, or are you actually enjoying it?
Your Besty Annabelle:
Hahaa… God, no! Anyway, I have to get back. Test those eyes out. Check your app. I’ll check in later.
My eyes roll away from the text, and I fail to reply. When I click on the little pink app, I intend not to give one guy the time of day and just delete my account.
Again, my inbox is full of weirdos who think it’s acceptable to start a conversation by asking for sex.
Mr. Stickman has been replaced by an actual photo. A black and white image of a four-leaf clover tattooed on the underside of the arm, an arm hiding its owner’s face, fills the little circle.
Without answering his—03lucky03’s—initial hi message, I type…
LittleDoll:
What does the clover mean to you?
With nerves dancing in my stomach, I wait for a reply from the guy I ignored yesterday. Clovers are sentimental to me, as they symbolize Irish luck.
Subconsciously, a hand moves to my neck, where a necklace used to sit. The crystal clover always twinkled the prettiest color.
Where is that now?
It’s been years since I saw it last.
… appears on the screen. Stickman is typing.
03Lucky03:
You like the tattoo?
LittleDoll:
I was just curious.
03Lucky03:
Do you have any?
I’m curious, too.
LittleDoll:
No.
I’m not that brave.
03Lucky03:
Scared of needles?
LittleDoll:
Scared of people.
Shit. That was probably way too big an admission for a first conversation with a stranger online.
03Lucky03:
Well, people are awful sometimes. I understand.
I like your profile name. The photo was kinda fun, too.
My name, LittleDoll, isn’t anywhere near as cringy as the picture was.
LittleDoll:
The photo was hideous. The name is okay-ish.
My friend set up the profile.
03Lucky03:
Honestly, the photo wasn’t that bad.
LittleDoll:
I was dressed like a teddy bear.
03Lucky03:
Yeah. But I’d guess most women own a onesie these days.
LittleDoll:
Maybe.
03Lucky03:
What are your plans for the night?
LittleDoll:
I’m home alone.
I just had a bad breakup.
Upon sending it, I immediately regret that message. Face meet palm, because why did I tell a stranger on the internet about my real-life problems?
03Lucky03:
Don’t worry about him. The guy’s a loser.
LittleDoll:
Do you know him?
Do you know me?
03Lucky03:
I just kinda meant because he let you go. Cheesy, huh?
LittleDoll:
Very.
03Lucky03:
Yeah, sorry. I don’t use these apps a lot. It’s new to me.
LittleDoll:
If that’s true, why did you message me?
03Lucky03:
That onesie caught my eye.
LittleDoll:
Oh, sure.
Of all the women on here, you message the one dressed like a bear?
03Lucky03:
I’m not big on people, either. So, I’d choose the bear any day.
LittleDoll:
LOL! Yeah, me too.
What’s your name?
As crazy as it sounds, I wanna know more about this guy.
I wanna keep him talking because, somehow, I’ve managed to relax on my lounge with just the help of his chit-chat.
It almost feels like I can escape the desperation inside me that craves attention and the pull to another person—Shane.
I’ve almost texted him twice today because the desire to beg to know why I wasn’t enough is pestering me so hard.
Another message pops up on my screen.
03Lucky03:
Lucky is fine. We can drop the numbers.
LittleDoll:
I’m Dollancie.
03Lucky03:
So, that’s where the little doll comes in.
LittleDoll:
Dollie was a nickname given to me by my brother.
03Lucky03:
You guys close?
LittleDoll:
Once.
Not so much now.
I don’t give the details regarding Ambrose.
03Lucky03:
Same, I have one sister. Younger.
LittleDoll:
I’m the baby.
And, like you, there are only two of us.
03Lucky03
Well, as they say, three is a crowd.
Speaking of crowds, I’m about to head into work, but I’ll keep my phone handy if you’re gonna be bored at home alone.
LittleDoll:
What do you do?
03Lucky03:
Barman.
I’m not sure I have it in me to stay up for tonight’s shift, though. You fancy a night out to keep me company?
LittleDoll:
Maybe another time.
What would you do if you were spending the night in?
03Lucky03:
If I didn’t have a care in the world, I’d probably read, assuming I wouldn’t fall asleep before the sun goes down.
LittleDoll:
You one of those crime buffs?
03Lucky03:
Not at all. I like the classics.
LittleDoll:
No way.
How old are you?
03Lucky03:
Yes way. They’re timeless.
And not that it really matters, but I’ll be twenty-eight soon.
LittleDoll:
And you’re telling me that at twenty-seven, if you had no plans, you’d spend your night reading Jane Eyre?
03Lucky03:
Well, why not? It’s great. It’s no Wuthering Heights, but it’s still great.
LittleDoll:
Oh, you see… you’ve blown your chances because Jane is obviously the best.
03Lucky03:
I had a chance? :P
LittleDoll:
It was small, and now, smaller.
03Lucky03:
But it existed, all the same.
LittleDoll:
Are guys always so cocky on these apps?
03Lucky03:
You think I’m on here to talk to guys?
LittleDoll:
Well, you read the classics, who knows, LOL.
03Lucky03:
Less of the lip. I’m about to drive, but I should be at work in like ten minutes. You can use that time to think of all the ways Jane Eyre tops Wuthering Heights.
You might need a little longer.