Hey, Doll

"Hey Doll, open your eyes.”

Barnaby’s house was not new to Marion, but it was still a nice gesture that he would carry her over the threshold. She could see it now, for the first time, as their home. He set her gently down on the floor and, locked in a tight embrace, they kissed. Before long they had moved to the bedroom to consummate the marriage.

“Goodbye, husband, I made you a meatloaf sandwich,” Marion handed Barnaby a brown paper bag with a hand drawn pink heart on it. He brushed his fingers through her blonde hair and kissed her on the cheek.

“What are you going to do today?”

“I was thinking I might do a little yard work today. Get some of that jimsonweed out,” Marion smiled.

“Just don’t work yourself too hard.”

“I won’t. Promise. Have a good day at work,” Marion winked and started to close the door, but Barnaby stopped and turned.

“Hey, doll, everything you need for the yard is in the garage. You won’t need to go into the shed in the backyard.”

Marion went to wash the dishes from breakfast. As she ran the tap water she looked at the house that backed their own, a gray and purple Victorian. It was the only old-fashioned house in an otherwise completely gentrified neighborhood. She had seen lights on and off and shadows in the corners, but she had never seen the woman who lived there. She had only heard other people reference her as The Witch of Keres Street. She knew it was just childish rumors, but she still got curious.

The jimsonweed wasn’t as bad as she had expected and before long she had a large bucket full of weeds and a clean flowerbed.

“Hello, neighbor,” came a cheerful voice behind her.

“Hello,” said Marion.

“I’m Rita. I live just two houses next door there. I heard our Barnaby got hitched and I wanted to come and say hello, welcome you to the neighborhood. Aren’t you just a doll. Here, these are my famous mini peach poundcakes with caramel drizzle. Can’t welcome a new neighbor without something sweet. I hope you are loving the neighborhood, it can get quiet out here in the country, but one day you’ll wonder how you ever woke up without the sound of a distant steam train blowing its horn and the peacocks greeting the rising sun. Now, what’s going on there, you look like you’re pondering something.”

“Oh, thank you. Here, I’ll take those,” Marion slid her gloves off and took the plate of sweets from Rita. “Yes, I was just wondering what to do about my weed waste. I’d prefer to compost it, but the seeds would get everywhere and keep germinating. There are too many to fit in the trash can and that feels like a waste.”

“Burn’em.”

“What?”

“Doesn’t Barno have a fire pit back there? All you have to do is clear out the pit, put the weeds in the bottom, let ‘em dry a day or two, boom bam bonfire. Roast yourself a marshmallow,” Rita’s grin reached the corners of her eyes.

The fire pit! She would dump them into the firepit and when they dried, they could burn them down.

“That’s a great idea! Thank you, would you like to come in for some coffee and a piece of, what did you call this?”

“Famous mini peach poundcakes with caramel drizzle. If you like them, I’ll get you the recipe. I know the chef. Ha. But, seriously, you’ll like them. I brought the recipe with me,” Marion took Rita by the arm and led her in the house.

“Okay, okay, that’s about everything you need to know about Myriad Circle and all the neighborhood gossip. Now, tell me about you while you get me another coffee,” Rita leaned into Marion and tapped her mug.

“What do you want to know,” Marion asked and poured another healthy amount of coffee into the mug.

“Tell me about you. Where are you from? How did you meet Barnaby? When did you fall in love with him?”

“I’m Marion, your neighbor, and I was recently married. Two weeks ago to be precise. I’m from here in Pteetneet City. I met Barnaby two weeks ago and it was love at first sight. I looked into his eyes and just knew right then and there he would be the one for me,” she sighed as she thought about that first moment.

“Oh, doll, that’s fast.”

“Sometimes when you know, you know,” Marion said.

“Uh, huh. Well, I’ve taken up so much of your time. I need to get back and let the cat back in before it gets too late.”

“Oh, wait, there’s one thing you haven’t told me about. The house behind us. What’s up with that house?” Marion looked out the window at the house.

“The Witch of Keres Street? Just rumors. Madame Lunett Forrel is a bit of a kook, but she’s just a middle-aged woman who likes to stick to herself. She reads tarot by appointment; some homemade deck she divined from another world or something. That old house is a historic site for the city, so it stands out to the rest of the neighborhood. Kids talk is all. Don’t believe ‘em.”

After Rita had left Marion went to check out the fire pit. It had some piles of ash ready for the compost. She poked a finger into the ash to see how deep it was. She would need another bucket, but all the buckets she had were filled with weed debris and Rita said she should clear the ash out before starting.

She thought about it as she trailed a finger through the ash and the burnt end of a piece of paper sifted upward. It had one calligraphy cursive style line visible below the burnt portion:

“…n’t let the fates find out. The Broken Doll. First aligned and then inverse. She must never know where she came from.

“In this and all other worlds, Mme L. Forrel”

She stood up and decided she would just have to go into the shed and see if there was an extra bucket. When she got to the shed doors she found a bike chain locking the doors tight.

She twisted the numbers until they read the day of their wedding: November 11th. It opened.

Inside the shed there was a couch, television, and video game system. There was an ashtray with a burnt blunt smashed into it, a strange scented black candle, some shiny rocks, and some empty beer cans scattered about. It was a basic bachelor-style man cave. There was even a little end table with tissues and lotion.

There were no buckets, but behind the couch was an empty box.

“Good enough,” Marion said to herself.

She took the box outside to fill with ash, moved the ash to the compost, and finished adding the weeds to the firepit. She tossed the box into the trash and went in to clean up for dinner.

Barnaby came home and immediately praised Marion for the good work in the garden.

“What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Surf and turf casserole,” Marion said.

She opened and closed the oven door, the smell of the casserole wafted warm across her face. It would be done in about 15 minutes. She turned to her husband as he entered the kitchen.

“Here, let me hang up your coat,” she took the coat off her husband and hung it on the shelf. A little card stuck out of the pocket.

“It smells great.”

“What’s this,” Marion held up the card and let it shine in the kitchen light. It was a tarot-style card featuring a little porcelain doll laying in a filthy gutter. The left side of the doll’s face webbed with cracks and denting inward. The title of the card read, ‘The Broken Doll.’

“Oh, it’s a tarot card. It’s silly, really.”

“What’s silly about that? Tell me about it,” Marion asked.

“I used to go to her a lot for simple readings. She was kind of my love guru. I would go for advice on dating and meeting my soulmate. Just before you and I met I went in for a deeper reading, something she calls a fate card. I got the broken doll, which basically meant that I was fated to get everything I wanted and all I had to do was go home, perform a silly little candle lighting ritual and then…”

“Then what?”

“I met you and I didn’t need all that stuff anymore,” Barnaby said.

“That’s why I love you. Mind taking the trash out?”

Marion handed the trash bag to Barnaby and he took it into the garage.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Yes Barn?”

“Where did you get this box?”

“It was in the shed. I don’t know why you get so shy about that place, you’re allowed to have a man cave. I know how men are. You are allowed to have a blowup doll,” Marion pointed to the empty box.

She turned to look at Barnaby. He had fear in his eyes, clutching the box to this chest.

“Barnaby, what’s wrong?” Marion asked.

“You’re okay?”

“Got a few scrapes and prickles from the jimsonweed, but I feel fine. Why?” Marion twisted her eyebrow at him.

“I just, I thought that, if you found the box…”

“My love. I do not mind if you have a sex toy,” Marion kissed him tenderly on the lips.

“Of course not,” he smiled.

The oven timer beeped.

“Dinner is served,” Marion pulled away from Barnaby. She put on her oven mitts and pulled the casserole out of the over. She set it down and started to think.

“The box was empty,” Marion said.

“What’s that wife?”

“The sex doll box. It was empty. What happened to the doll? And while I’m at it, why were you worried about me finding it? Why can’t I remember anything from before the wedding day?” Marion asked.

Marion whirled around to face Barnaby and she opened her mouth, but she couldn’t feel any air enter her lungs.

The sound of gasping filled the air and Marion crumpled to the ground. She felt completely deflated.

THE END