78. Dollie—present day
Dollie—present day
“ W hat’s going on?” I ask Nyx, following him out of his van at the bottom of the hill.
“I don’t think we’ll be able to drive to the top.”
“Why? Is it the rain?”
Nyx is often brave enough to venture my hill in his van, regardless of the weather.
“What is all that noise?”
A myriad of voices chant different things at once, preventing me from hearing the distinctions in their hate.
Leading the way in my socks, I stomp the muddy path, following chants of death wishes. All of this reminds me of Shane and the very last words he said to me.
I still in the drizzle that still leaks from the sky, Nyx’s hand on my shoulder. “They’ve been here for hours.”
“Hours!” My brow pulls down, and my mind whirls with so much of my own hate.
Rushing forward, I take in the signs held by the locals. Each hateful protester stands, soaked and to their knees in mud. Awful things plastered over each sign in big, bold letters.
Shane was right, word had gotten out about Ambrose trying to end his life, and it’s brought half of the town here to my doorstep.
An overwhelming feeling of not being able to cope, not without my comfort person, comes over me as I read one sign that bobs up and down in a local’s dirty hands.
Just die!
Two words that take my breath away.
Turning to another that has more to say, I read it aloud, “Your parents are probably wishing for karma from beyond the grave.”
I stare down at the woman in white, who has quite clearly slipped in the mud and landed on her left hip as she climbed the hill. “They would never want him to die.”
She should know better. I spent so many Saturdays in her store as Mom flogged her upcycled pieces and brought in a new wave of customers. I sat with them both, silently lost in my thoughts as Mom shed tears over Ambrose not being home.
Shaking my head, I grip the sign from her frail, aging hands.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I demand, asking her and everyone else in the crowd. “You’re so fucked up that you don’t even see it.”
The chanting mutes.
“Oh, you wanna listen to me? Because you need someone to tell you this is wrong? Why? You already know that!” My teeth chatter, partly from the cold, partly through anger.
“You’re all here for what? To avenge my parents?
To wish that the son they loved so much would die?
Do you think they’d be okay with that?” I screech like a manic, so close to a breakdown I feel anxiety licking around my bones.
“Do you think I’m okay with that? With you standing outside my door, hoping the person I love most in this world dies? ”
A comment from the crowd flits through the air, something about rape and brainwashing.
“No, he never did any of that.” I shake my head at all these people who’ll believe any bit of hearsay.
“Do you wanna know a secret? I wished each night that one day he’d kiss my lips, instead of my forehead, because I didn’t want him to see me as his goofy little sister.
But he didn’t. And do you wanna know why?
Because he’s a good person. You all come here in honor of my parents, as if they were saints.
They weren’t! They were flawed, like we are.
My mother spent every day crying because she knew they were bad parents.
Knew their actions led us to harm. No one chanted for us.
But you’re here for them—them, who I wish were here to tell you to back the fuck off.
It was a psychotic break. He didn’t want this.
He didn’t know what the fuck was happening! ”
I didn’t know what the fuck was happening.
I shake with the need to tell them it was me, that I had no idea what was happening, but Ambrose’s pleas over the last few days beg me not to.
“You hate him for it? Well, I guess that’s your right, but do it somewhere fucking else because this is private property!”
Nyx follows me inside, lifting a package from the doorstep that I’d ignored. It’s probably another cologne set for Shane, who feels the need to buy himself gifts constantly.
I scream just at the sight of it.
“You okay?” Nyx asks, after waiting a moment, because clearly, I’m not okay.
“Not really.” I look over the dirty footprints all through the house, then down at my dirty socks that I pull off before allowing my eyes to scan the big brown box in Nyx’s hands as I slouch on the chaise.
“Maybe this will cheer you up. The packaging label says it’s meant to.”
He sets the box in my lap, and I eye the label.
My Sweet Dollie
The last few days have been hard for you, but I want to see you smile again.
-A
Ambrose must have ordered me something in the last day or so to try to cheer me up. He wanted to see me smile again, and he almost didn’t see me at all.
My struggling fingers fail with the tape sealing the box, needing to open it as quickly as possible. Almond nails offer no help as I try to pierce the center and pick at the edges.
“Here.” Nyx lowers himself to his haunches and sticks his keys into the center of the tape, making it easy for me to wedge my fingers in and pry open the box. “I’ll give you a minute.”
Shifting to the kitchen, he calls back, “I’ll get you some water after I check on the yard.” I hear him say something else, something about Bubbles tormenting his workers. A laugh follows.
But all I can focus on is the box in my hands.
Inside, multiple presents wait for me to inspect them.
I pull out the first one, unsure what it is, as the soft, yellow fabric covered in pink roses squishes between my fingers. It’s one of three pouch-type things that are all banded together by cardboard. I flip it over to read the back.
Cute stoma bag covers: assorted.
Assorted, but all pink and yellow, like I need.
There are matching socks too, that go all the way to the knee, with frills just below.
Setting them both at my side, I pull out the next gift—a replacement pair of slippers that couldn’t have come at a better time.
The fluffy pink pair have mini wine glasses on them—the lethal red liquid filled appropriately.
Nothing like the amount I drank while sexting with Lucky—Ambrose.
A bottle of rosé sits in the left one, with my name on the label.
I’m left with one last gift, bubble wrapped so much that I could bounce it off the wall and not worry about damaging whatever is inside.
Still, I’m extra careful as I peel it open.
And that’s a good thing, because the perfect Pegasus almost flies from my hands.
Its perfect coral color is so reminiscent of my favorite from Mom’s collection, to the trinkets I loved that Shane destroyed.
Standing, I rush over to the dark shelves where hundreds of its kind used to sit.
And I smile, the biggest and most genuine smile I’ve smiled in days.
Moving back to the box, I collect it, ready to take it outside to the trash, now that the noise has dimmed.
A note staring up at me invites me back to the chaise as I pluck it from the box and begin reading.
I think you’ll like the Pegasus most.
I nod along, agreeing but also loving every sentimental thought and gift.
Some of the gifts are a little unconventional, and perhaps the slippers are more for me than for you. But I hate seeing you in his stuff, and these are much cuter anyway.
I hate seeing you upset, too, Dollie. Mom and Dad would too. They wouldn’t want you to hate yourself.
They’d want you to have a happy life.
I wasn’t lying when I told you what Dad said.
They wanted you safe. I want you safe. I want you happy.
I’m writing this in words because who knows if I’ll ever be able to say it out loud.
What happened last night with you on the sofa, I’ve waited years for that.
For a minute with you where we’re not just siblings—where we can be more.
I’ve struggled with the idea of it, with my thoughts and feelings for you, for as long as I can remember.
I thought we were wrong and that it could never happen. But why not?
Because Mom and Dad got married and made us a family? What if they were always meant to be our steppingstone? Our way to find each other?
We’ve spent our whole lives sad.
It’s time to be happy.
These gifts might have that effect for a minute or more, but they won’t have a lasting effect. One gift is only a small thing to help with your confidence. You don’t have to wear them. You can throw them straight out if you prefer. But if you think they’ll help, then I hope they do.
And I hope you smile even if just for a second, even if it’s just over the slippers and my jealousy.
Smile, because you can’t forget who you are because of one bad thing that happened. Mom still loves you. You’ll always be Daddy’s princess.
My queen.
And I love you,
-A
A real smile tugs at my lips, and I pull my phone from my pocket. Clicking on Lucky’s name, I type a quick reply back.
Dollancie:
I love you. Want you home. 3
He’s gone. It’s just us now.
I’m about to place my phone down when it rings in my hand. I press the answer button without glancing at the screen.
“Ambrose?”
“This is a call from Carbonado Hill Memorial. Am I speaking to Ms. La’Darragh?”
A quick look at my screen shows the number is hidden.
“Yes.”
“My name is Dr. Henderson. I believe you were here with your brother earlier, following a suicide attempt.”
“That’s right. I actually thought he was the one calling, hence the name.” I giggle nervously, not wanting to say the wrong thing in case they keep him in longer for it. “Is he coming home?”
“No. I’m terribly sorry to tell you this?—”
“No, please, they don’t need to keep him,” I interrupt before the doctor can finish talking. “It won’t happen again. He knows that it was a bad?—”
“Ms. La’Darragh, I’m sorry, but your brother passed away around ten minutes ago.”