Barbie World (Baby Doll Series) (25 page)

Chapter 39.
Dylan

I watch the powder blue Honda pull out of the driveway as I keep my feet planted on the porch, fighting the urge to run after the car like a little kid. This is how I envisioned her leaving. It is almost perfect this way. She leans out the window, waving goodbye to a past full of pain and hurt. She is saying goodbye to me while her hair whips wildly around her and across her mouth that is slightly open. Her eyes are wide with a newfound hope. I can see the change growing inside them. It scares the shit out of me because I don’t know if I am going to be a part of that change.

I don’t wave back; I snap still frames in my mind of her as I watch the car pull away with the girl I love inside. Pictures for me; to be my reason for breathing. This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. To say goodbye. Barbie has taught me that life is full of hurt, but it is also full of wonderful and beautiful things. If you just let go long enough, they will find you.

I don’t know if I will ever see her again. We never got to make plans and, in the end, I had to let her go. She finally had a family that she wanted and craved for her. She no longer has to be the strong one. She now has someone to care for her. To stay up late nights and worry about her. She no longer has to assume the role of the provider and mother. Though, I don’t think she will ever be able to let go of that motherly instinct fully. She will always care for those that need caring; for the weak, the friendless, the nerds, the unpopular. She is a beacon of light in the dark for them. She will never know how much she has changed the lives of those around her. She unknowingly changes the life of those she comes in contact with, but no one more than me. She introduced me to a different world. She gave me something to fight for.

Even though I am dying on the inside I am alive with hope for her. I hope she will get to live the life she deserves.

“Hey, man, want to go get something to eat?” Third asks, putting his arm around me.

“As long as it is a place that serves something caffeinated I’m in,” Roxie says, hugging Third from the side. He carefully drapes his other arm over her shoulder. Black streaks run down her face.

I know they need me to help them from running after her, too. I nod my head yes to his question; the words to thick to come out, sticking to my throat. I don’t know if I will ever be able to speak again. Tears that I refuse to cry sting in my eyes. We stand there, the three of us, watching the sun set on the powder blue car and the girl who changed our world.

I hope that Barbie and my story holds a happy ending, but I cannot be sure. I am only eighteen and don’t know what the future holds for me. I do know, whatever it is, it is bright and vast. I tilt my head up to the sun, drinking in its warmth. Her future is also bright and vast…

The End.

Epilogue

I wake up and reach for her, only to not feel her next to me. For a moment, I panic. My heart bangs wildly in my chest as I sit up straight in bed, letting the white sheets fall around my waist and taking in my surroundings. The loft apartment is cool from the winter that is fast approaching. Frost kisses the large, picture frame windows that are scattered around the loft. They give a view of nothing other than the large brick buildings and narrow alleyways below, but it is what made her fall in love with the place. I think she could have wanted to live in a tent on the cold streets and I would have said yes if it made her smile, though; anything I can do to keep a smile on her lips. Don’t get me wrong it is not always roses and champagne, sometimes we fight like hell and it stings, remembering all those times I made her cry before.

She has screamed at me and packed her things, dragging them to the street below. I have chased her down the road, begging and pleading with her, bringing her back. Then we make up; however each time, a scar is left on my heart; which is something I will never tell her. I will never tell her because she does not believe she deserves to be loved unconditionally, but I do. I have tried my hardest to be the man she needs. I will never be the man she deserves, but I am too selfish to let her go. To tell her to find someone better than me.

She is determined not to let her past define her. It took all she had to get to where she is now. We both went away to college; me, to Ohio State and her, to a small, private college in New York, but that barely lasted a semester, I dropped my classes and got on the first plane heading out to New York. I enrolled in The Art Institute and Barbie dropped out after her first year. She decided she didn’t want to wait for her life to begin. She had already waited too long for that. She took out every penny she saved from her waitressing job and rented a small shop in Greenwich Village. It started out as a thrift store, but quickly turned into something more. People come to have her design custom vintage clothing for them. B & E Clothing quickly turned into B & E Designs. Her new line is coming out this March during fashion week. It is a small line, but I know this is just the beginning for her. I graduate from NYAI this year. Hopefully, my internship with
The New York Times
will turn into something more. I know I will have a lot of work ahead of me before I become a photo journalist, yet I am doing something I adore with the girl I love.

At one time I thought that the pain of not having her close to me was going to kill me, but I got through it. Barbie’s mother eventually got out of jail, she was clean for a few months and I actually thought she was going to be able to be the mother both Barbie and Everett deserved, however she couldn’t do it.

What makes someone hurt so bad that they try to numb the pain anyway possible is hard to imagine. Barbie is okay with it now, she knows that she cannot change her mother, no matter how hard she tries or wants it. That was one of the hardest years, watching Barbie come to terms with who her mother was. Jewel still holds out hope for her. Barbie and Everett only have contact with their mother when she is sober, though. We have not seen or heard from her in eight months.

Everett is turning sixteen this spring. The progress he has made is amazing. He still does not speak, but does communicate through sign language. Even then, he doesn’t like to talk much, though. Leaving Everett behind to follow her dreams was the hardest thing that Barbie had ever done. With the insistence of her Grandmother Jewel and encouragement from Everett, she reluctantly left. She still makes him hold up to his end of the bargain and Skype’s with him every other day.

Leaving Roxie and Third was hard for both of us. We have been through so much together. It was the four of us against incredible odds. Although the last year of high school still sucked like it had before, at least we had each other, and the funny thing is, when high school ended, real life began. No one cared what you wore or who you hung out with anymore.

Third and Roxie come out every summer to visit and we see them every holiday that we go back to Alabama. Roxie and Third’s relationship had more ups and downs than mine and Barbie’s, but they eventually realized what everyone else had known all along; they were made for each other. Nine months later, Bartholomew the Fourth was born, or Four as I like to call him. Next week, we are heading home for their wedding.

I finally spot her. She is sitting on a stool at the stained butcher block we found on Fifth Street. We drug that damn thing all the way home, all because she wanted to use it as a table. I would do anything she asked of me.

One of her long legs is tucked under her while the other dangles out of my NYAI sweatshirt. I watch her for a moment, the steam from her coffee mug drifting to the ceiling as her pencil moves slowly across the paper under her hand. Her hair is braided in two messy braids down her back. I still have the urge to pull on them even after all these years. She is still the same girl I fell in love with. The girl with eyes too large for her face. The girl who takes care of everyone first before herself. The girl with a heart too big for this world.

No longer able to stay away from her, I approach. “Hey,” I say, coming up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. She still smells like spun sugar; a smell that drives me crazy.

“Hey.” She leans back against me. Her pencil rolls around the cream colored paper that holds a bird flying towards a storm. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” she says, reaching behind me to pull me closer.

I kiss the top of her head. “Come back to bed.” I take her hand and lead her back to the brass bed frame that sits against one of the icy windows. This one has a view of the sky if you look at it just right.

We climb back into bed and I pull the blankets over us, covering our heads. She puts her feet on mine and they are ice cold.

“Do you love me?” I ask. It is one of the selfish questions I ask her. I have to know; I have to be constantly reminded.

“Of course I love you.” She cuddles closer, putting her cold nose against my cheek, sending electricity sparking through me. I kiss her, letting it take me someplace else, someplace far away.

“I love you.” I reach under my pillow, looking for what I placed there last night, not knowing how I was going to do this. I was thinking about doing it when we went home next week for the wedding, but now seems right. “Barbie, I need to ask you something.” I finger the small, red velvet box in my hand.

“What? What’s wrong?” She sits up, causing the blanket to tent over us. I sit up, too, crossing my legs and pulling her onto my lap so she is straddling me.

“Nothing’s wrong. Remember that day in Central Park when I told you that I would never love anyone more than you?”

She bites at her bottom lip. “You tell me that all the time.” She smiles.

I take a deep breath and lean my head against hers. “Well, I mean it. I will never love anyone else, never like I love you.” I open my hand, holding out the box.

“Dylan, what is that? What are you doing?” Her voice cracks and, this time, I don’t mind that her eyes are starting to get misty. I open the box, exposing the small, aquamarine stone set in a silver antiqued band. I found it at an antique shop in Greenwich Village. It was all I could afford, but it seemed right, fitting. Maybe another girl would be upset that it was not a diamond, but not her. The ring is the same color as her eyes.

“Barbie Starr, will you marry me?” My whole body shivers with anticipation. She could say no and run and I could lose her forever.

“Yes!” She wraps her arms around me, pulling me closer to her as she kisses me. My chest explodes with the spark of electricity that only she can produce in me. Perfect. She is perfect and she is mine.