26. Dollie—present day #2
I see what you did there with the Jane Eyre quotes.
Lucky:
And what am I doing exactly?
Dollancie:
Making my life a little more livable.
Especially today.
Lucky:
Rough morning?
Dollancie:
God, yes.
I feel like you had one, too?
Lucky:
I had a rough night.
Dollancie:
I’m sorry I didn’t notice.
Lucky:
It’s fine. I didn’t mention it for a reason.
This morning is better. At least I made you smile?
Dollancie:
You did.
You’re making a habit of it.
Lucky:
Why is today so hard for you?
I write a message listing all my woes, delete it twice, and then send a completely different string of words.
Dollancie:
I won’t bore you with everything.
Lucky:
Permission to bore me.
Payback for last night, I guess.
Last night, Lucky and I talked until early morning, like we had the days prior. Only last night, around two-thirty, I went radio silent, claimed by sleep. By nightmares of clowns. One in particular.
I woke up to a poodle licking one cheek, and my phone pressed to the other, flashing with two unread messages. The first was a reply to something I’d asked. The second, have I bored you so much that you’re sleeping now?
It had been my intention to answer after my limbs woke up, but then Ambrose came down the stairs. Then Shane interrupted. It all put distance between me and my phone until Lucky—persistent Lucky—messaged again.
Dollancie:
Okay.
But you didn’t actually bore me to sleep.
I’ve had a busy week.
I’ve recently moved back to the family house,
and the place is a mess.
There’s been vandalism.
Painting over all that takes it out of you, you know?
Maybe it’s the fumes.
Also, my brother is home.
Lucky:
Is that what’s bothering you? Decorating? Or your brother?
Dollancie:
Both. We have a strained relationship.
That is putting it mildly.
Dollancie:
And I hate this house.
Originally, my ex-boyfriend and I were meant to decorate this place together. Then sell it. It’s been empty for years, so it’s been hard work. But then we broke up. Kinda.
Lucky:
Kinda makes it sound less final than before.
Dollancie:
When we’ve argued in the past,
he disappears for a few days, then comes home.
He texted this morning saying he wanted to meet to talk.
It’s all very stressful.
I set my phone down and finish blending with a fingertip. The concealer stains my phone screen when another message buzzes.
Lucky:
You could do better than him.
Dollancie:
You don’t know what he did.
Lucky:
It was bad enough for it to be over.
Dollancie:
How do you know it wasn’t me?
Taking my phone with me, I head into the reading room, checking on Bubbles on my way.
She’s still exploring the vast yard, growling at and rolling in the weeds. My heart bursts a little.
The joy she gives me stays on my face as I enter the reading room. All my stuff—literally everything that means something to me—lays around the chaise where Duggan sits, and after checking behind the curtains for anything that shouldn’t be there, I sit at his side.
Lucky:
It wasn’t.
You’re too sweet.
Dollancie:
You’re right, it wasn’t.
He cheated.
He hurt me by doing it.
And then hurt me again for finding out.
New subject.
Lucky:
I guess it’s hard to talk about.
Dollancie:
Sorry. That was kinda blunt.
It is hard to talk about. To think about. We’d had arguments before. Bad ones. But he’d never hit me until now.
Lucky:
We don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready.
Just keep in mind that if you let him back in, it could happen again. Don’t be with a man like that. They don’t deserve second chances. And it’s pointless giving one because weak guys can’t offer you anything anyway.
Other guys will worship you.
Maybe it’s a good thing your brother is home.
Dollancie:
Yeah… he stopped it.
But it’s complicated. My parents liked him, you know.
Lucky:
Liked your ex? Past tense?
Dollancie:
They aren’t around anymore.
I scour the room because my broken mind has said otherwise a few times since arriving home.
But there are no visitors today besides the new furry tenant who comes skidding into the room and collapsing in a heap on the floor at my side.
Poor thing has worn herself out.
Glancing down at her, I let her rest because when we both have the energy, she’s having a bath after all the rolling in the mud she’s done.
My phone buzzes again, pulling my eyes away from the dirty dog.
Lucky:
I still don’t think they’d approve of an abusive man.
Dollancie:
You’re probably right.
Anyway. I can’t talk about him right now. Or them.
My dog has just decided it’s nap time, and I’ve just gotten up, so do you have any ideas on mind distraction?
Lucky:
Do you have your favorite book?
Dollancie:
Jane Eyre? Yeah, at least three copies here at home.
Lucky:
Go grab one.
Dollancie:
Are you ditching me?
Lucky:
I’m gonna read it with you.
Dollancie:
You are!
Random, but do you think Jane Eyre would be one of these raunchy books if it were written today?
This is the kind of conversation I probably shouldn’t have with a guy I met on a dating site, but he’s a rare find and nothing like the other guys who’d dropped into my inbox.
He feels safe.
Lucky:
Definitely.
She’d have been naked a few chapters in.
Am I allowed to say that without you thinking I’m a creep?
Dollancie:
Oh, sure. I think whips and chains, too.
Let me grab the book!
We can discuss where we think the raunchy chapters will be as we go.
Lucky:
Deal. But depending on the edition you have, don’t wreck it if you get carried away.
A giggle sneaks up my throat, and I jump from the chaise, leaving the innocent old memories of me doing this with my stepbrother on the red fabric with Duggan.
My pace slows when I enter the foyer.
I can’t fight the pull that takes my eyes to the second floor. I see nothing but closed doors, gargoyles, old blood, and a hint of graffiti that cuts off out of view.
No ghosts.
No Ambrose.
The dust covering every single book would make it hard to find anything if I didn’t know exactly where all my favorites were.
It’s crazy to think nothing has been stolen in any of the break-ins, but the majority of the people in this town are rich. No one has come into this house and trashed it through poverty, just hate for my brother.
With my hand extended and fingers feathering the top of the books in the Jane Eyre section, because yes, she has her own section, I spot my favorite missing.
The ancient pink clothbound.
My head snaps up.
Is it still on my bed?
I take another from the shelf, having no desire to go and look for the other copy.
Bubbles doesn’t stir as I return.
Making Duggan shift up for me, I set myself back down after entering the reading room, book in hand, and type a quick message.
Dollancie:
I’m starting…
Lucky:
I’m waiting for you…
There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning…
A flutter of butterflies dances in my stomach, wondering if one day, we’ll take a walk… Lucky, me, and Bubbles.