66. Dollie—age sixteen
Dollie—age sixteen
A lmost three long years have passed.
I haven’t seen how Ambrose’s face has matured with his perfect bone structure. I haven’t had to crane my neck to look up at him. We haven’t held each other through fears and stress.
Dad’s tires crunch dirt on the other side of the window as bright headlamps light up the night.
As always, the trees around this land make things darker and creepier. Shadows move in a way that makes it look like they’re strutting towards the car like phantasmic butlers.
A tightening feeling spreads across my chest, and I rub at it, ignoring the voices seeping from the dining area. It’s just Mom on her third attempt at getting my very quiet new boyfriend to talk. He’s always borderline silent around most people, including my parents.
A conversation creeps in from outside as Dad steps out of the car. A second later, the passenger door opens, and long legs covered in new denim kick out.
My hand keeps moving on my chest, breath hitching when Ambrose steps from the car. His dark hair and silver scars glow in the moonlight. His tanned skin emphasizes those enchanting eyes.
A smile lifts his lips when Dad talks to him. From what I can hear, it’s a basic everyday conversation—something they haven’t had since life before Chuckles.
Green eyes glance my way, but it’s unlikely he’ll see me behind the heavy drapes that cover the windows. Still, I see him, and my mouth gapes open. I fear I might be drooling, and my hand moves from my chest to my mouth.
Ambrose nears the front doors, and my breathing comes fast and hard.
He’s home.
He’s finally home.
I rush to the foyer, appearing in the archway as the front doors open with a hard push.
Ambrose stands under the light, squinting as he turns, taking in the home he was forced to leave behind. The bright lights still bother him as he kicks off new sneakers, and my hand moves subconsciously to the dim setting.
His gaze stops on me, a big hand moving to his sternum as I take a small step forward.
He feels it too—that warmth spreading inside.
It’s been three years. Three years since I saw that smile that makes my heart beat faster.
There’s something about the way his dimples pop on his more mature face that weakens my knees. My fluffy slippers scuff against the shiny floor as I take another step, trying not to collapse.
“Ambrose.” His name comes out in a pant, my heart ready to explode.
Closing the distance between us, Ambrose rushes to me, arms closing around my waist, one moving to my hair. He swamps my smaller, much shorter body as he lifts me into the best hug. His fingers weave, and he inhales the freshly washed scent of roses and chocolate.
His legs weaken, taking us both to the floor as mine wrap around him.
His perfect image, already blurred from the tears dropping down my face, and I think, his.
Needing to say something, I ask, “Is your knee okay?”
He nods against me, and his lips meet my blonde hair. Three soft kisses land amongst my waves.
Dad appears in the foyer, the word “Surprise!” echoing throughout the house before he spots us together on the floor.
And yeah, he looks surprised, with his mouth hanging open the way it is.
“Okay, break it up, you two.” He drops a duffel bag full of Ambrose’s things in the foyer.
Ambrose flinches at the sound, knowing his stuff is right by where everyone leaves their shoes.
“Save some hugs for your mother. She’s really excited to see you.”
Ignoring Dad, I whisper, “No one told me you were coming, but I figured it out.”
Dad overhears.
“You did?” And again, he’s the one surprised.
Ambrose coming home was meant to be a secret, but little whispers I’d caught from one parent to another today gave it all away.
Mom’s footsteps sound behind me before I can answer, and I catch her in my peripheral vision as a droplet of rain from Ambrose’s hair sneaks into the back of my floral dress. I shiver against him.
Enjoying the feel of his hands swallowing up my back, I don’t pull away until he does. It’s only a few inches while he smiles up at Mom, but I feel lonelier already.
My fingers move on his black T-shirt, and I crease the material.
Knowing me so well, his hands move on my back, and his mouth silently whispers, You okay?
My head bobs quickly.
Ambrose’s eyes glitter, gaze on me as he takes in the years that have passed between us, and I do the same.
I missed you, he mouths, hands still on me, holding tight.
“We’ve all missed you, too, my darling.” Mom steps into our space. “Are you hungry? We’re having a pizza night.”
With bigger hands than I remember, Ambrose guides me up from his lap first, then stands to his full height. Like no time has passed at all, he guides me to his side, arm locking around me as Mom and Dad near us from two separate directions.
“Why don't you go introduce your brother to your new boyfriend?” Ambrose’s grip on me turns rigid at Dad’s words.
The difference in touch lasts only a second before his hands drift away completely, and he leaves me with a look that causes pain in my chest.
The overwhelming sense of loss fills me instantly.
A gentle smile lifts my lips, but the expression is lost on Ambrose, whose eyes move to our mother.
Giving her what she wants, Ambrose opens his arms to the hug she’s waited close to ten years for. Like ours, her legs weaken as she sobs into his chest. Her head against his heart, where my favorite lullaby plays in a tune of gentle beats.
Feeling my nails press into my palm, I become aware of my sweaty palms balling into fists.
“It’s good to have you home, baby.”
Ambrose’s hold on Mom loosens, and space appears between them, enough for long fingers to move for him to sign.
I missed you, too, Mom.
“Come on. It’s been so long since we had a family night.” With her hand still on his back, Mom guides Ambrose to the dining room, like he doesn’t know every inch of this house.
I take a breath as they pass by me, meeting Dad’s eyes as he kicks off his shoes, leaving them in the reading room where they absolutely do not go.
“What is it, princess?”
A small whisper creeps out. “I’m not sure if inviting Shane tonight was a good idea.”
“Shane comes over every Thursday. There’s no reason that has to change just because your brother is home.”
“There is.”
“There are different kinds of relationships, Doll. You can have a boyfriend and a brother. You’ve done so well the last few years.”
The shaky feeling inside me disagrees.
“We both know that isn’t true.”
“What we both know is you pretended to be unwell so you could go to the institution, too. Mom and I realized this quickly. You’re lucky we did. The institution is for minors. So, you’d be there alone now.”
“I didn’t need an institution. I just needed Ambrose.” It’s not that I see fewer terrifying things that haunt me with him around, but I feel brave enough to face them with him around.
Too much of these last few years have been spent creeping around this house, hiding from shadows that lurk in dark corners.
“And now he’s home. Because of his progress, the doctors were happy to let him return, rather than transfer him to another facility at eighteen.
He’s here to stay, but it’s not going to be like before.
Distance has done you both good. Prove to me you can handle it, and I’ll let you plan a surprise for his birthday that’s coming up. ”
“He doesn’t like surprises, or birthdays, and Shane being here?—”
“Dollancie!” Mom’s voice calls from the dining room. “Get in here, come on!”
“Come on, love. It’ll all be fine.” Dad’s arms wrap around me, and we walk together.
Stepping into the dining room, a set table greets me. Three different pizzas line the center of the table, creating a divide between Ambrose, who sits next to Mom and Dad, and Shane and me, whose places are opposite.
Floral wallpaper makes the small space feel smaller, creating pressure in my chest. Shane remains silent as I take the chair at his side. Sitting down on the padded cushion, I take a sip of water, feeling my throat dry and scratchy.
Everyone grabs at slices of pizza, except Ambrose, whose fine china is loaded up by my mother who fusses around him like he’s a king.
“More?” she asks.
He shakes his head.
“You sure?”
Moving hands catch my eyes, but he isn’t giving her an answer.
No, he’s asking me for one.
How long have you been dating him?
With a hard swallow, the greasy pizza that will punish me later gets stuck in my throat. “Three months.”
How’d you meet? Do you go out now?
“Mom sells a few pieces at a local store a few towns over.”
Congratulations , he mouths her way.
“Thanks, baby. I’ll take you there to see some recent pieces this week if you like.”
He humors her with a side smile that’s wide enough to reveal his missing tooth before moving his eyes back to me and my rapidly rising chest across the table.
“We met there,” I add. “I don’t really go anywhere alone.”
Not even with him? Ambrose’s eyes land on Shane, his nostrils flaring slightly.
My parents and Shane don’t notice. They don’t know Ambrose like I do.
“We actually don’t go out much.” I shift on the uncomfortable chair that Mom has recently restuffed. “Shane isn’t very social, either. He likes us to stay in. Did Mom introduce you already?” I ask, a hint of nerves in my shaky voice as I straighten my spine with a false bravado.
Ambrose’s head nods, Adam’s apple bobbing as he looks away from me.
“Are you mad at me?” The question falls out and lands on the table between us.
“No,” Dad answers for him. “Of course he isn’t. Why would he be?”
“Please, let him answer.”
Repeating Dad’s answer with actions, not words, Ambrose asks, Why would I be?
A dipped head is my only response, guilt weighing heavily on my shoulders. I hope it goes unnoticed by Shane, who’s devouring three different pizza slices like he’s never going to eat again. Crumbs sit around him on the table as he chews with an open mouth.
I convince myself that’s the reason for the tension in Ambrose’s jaw as I look away from it, taking my first slice of margherita pizza.
The rest of our dinner is eaten in an uncomfortable silence. The only noise being Shane’s poor table manners.
“Pizza good, champ?”
It was good. Thanks, Dad. Ambrose takes a breath, his gaze intentionally anywhere but on me. But today has been…overwhelming. Can I be excused?
“Sure, sweety.” Mom’s mouth opens into a smile, her red lips stretching across her face. Her complexion pales, looking ghostly under the lights.
I blink, clearing the blur of colors, and her face returns to normal.
Ambrose has already left the table.
I kick out of my chair, and it falls over as I stand. Rushing from the room, I stumble over a wooden leg.
“Doll.” Mom grips my hand, steadying me. “He just needs time to settle.”
“I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
Pulling away from her, I run in my slippers through the reading room and find Ambrose on the stairs.
“Ambrose.”
Turning to me, his tight lips keep his mouth from moving and saying something that will upset me.
“You are mad.” My head drops, weighing down my shoulders.
I let a beat pass before stepping toward him.
I’m not mad, he signs. But it feels shit to know someone has filled a space that used to be mine.
“Mom set me up on a date, I—” I stop talking when Ambrose’s hands move again.
Three months ago.
“You weren’t here. I had no one to talk to.”
You tell him our secrets?
“No. I talk about other things, and he nods along.”
A silent laugh leaves Ambrose. Do you hear yourself? I’ve known the guy for twenty minutes, and I already know you could do better.
“And who is that exactly?”
It really doesn’t matter anymore. Not if he’s what you want.
But he hasn’t looked at you once all night.
He’s looked at the shit on his plate and me, like I’m some kind of freak show.
I bet that guy couldn’t even tell you what you’re wearing tonight.
You deserve someone who’ll see you, but like I said, if he’s what you want ? —”
“And if he isn’t?”
Then Mom will be very disappointed. Turning away from me, Ambrose climbs another step. He freezes there, on a newer carpet that’s soft beneath his feet, and turns back around. Does he stay over?
“No.”
A deep, relieved breath expands his chest.
“So, I’ll see you in my dome later?”
There’s a pause, then a… Maybe.