Broken Dolls (24 page)

“It sounds like you’ve earned it!” I chime in. “You seem like such a lovely man, but you’re always in that lab! It’s about time you got out and found the love of your life!”

“Yes,” the professor says almost nostalgically. “But I will always love my broken doll.” He bows the same way Gabby did, and I curtsy in return. “Sweetheart, your father is in the living room–he’ll be watching you while I’m gone. Have fun, girls.”

“We will!” we reply in unison.

“You make sure you have fun on your date!” I add.

The professor stops at the sliding door and strokes the edge of it tenderly. He looks at us with watery eyes, even though he is smiling. I can’t understand how he can look both sad and happy at the same time. I ought to hug him, so I make my descent from my castle and begin to toddle over. Before I reach the edge of the sandpit, he has already turned on his heel and closed the door, his fingerprints smearing the glass.

“I’m happy for him,” Gabby says as she creates a new wall for my castle. I turn slowly and sit next to her. “I only ever met Grandma once, and she was really bitter. I’ve never seen Grandpa so… I don’t know, energized or something. He signed up with a big medical corporation last week to show his studies, so maybe that’s why. Either way, he looks good.”

I nod in agreement. “He really does. He takes good care of us, doesn’t he?”

“Definitely. We had a few arguments when I was sick, but that was a tense time for everyone. I now understand what he was trying to do for us… I mean, for me. I sure do love him.”

I don’t reply, but I make sure to duck when Gabby overthrows the sand bucket over my head. I push it off and poke my tongue out at her, and she dissolves in giddy chuckles.

As we play, we’re distracted by the sliding door rolling open. Dressed in jeans and a collared shirt, a man stands at the door, tense and nervous.

“Hey, Dad!” Gabby calls. “Come play with us!”

Reluctantly, he shoves his hands into his jean pockets and joins us in the sand. He watches me, his jaw clenched and his lips pursed. He’s ridiculously handsome in that brooding sort of way. He looks a lot like the professor–high cheekbones, similar eyes, and sharp nose, with only his thick hair still black and a widow’s peak to set him apart.

“Hello, Jason.” I offer my tiny hand for him to shake. He doesn’t accept. “It’s lovely to officially meet you.”

Jason scoffs and builds a doorway for the castle. “Ella, do you know how I chose Gabby’s name?” His tone drips with… disdain? Though, what for? When I shake my head, he continues. “Your full name is Gabriella, and I thought that by naming my daughter Gabrielle, it might help her grandmother bond with her. I hoped it would bring her back to us.”

I frown. What on earth is he talking about?

“Dad,” Gabby says. “Stop.”

“I was wrong, of course. She was too wrapped up in her selfish ways to care about her family. After a while, she didn’t even care that she left me. I was fortunate that the rest of my family loved me enough.” Jason watches me carefully. “They were all I needed. They taught me about morals, decency, and kindness. The best thing I ever took away from them was learning how to forgive. Bitterness and anger consumes you, and I’m tired of punishing myself for her selfishness.”

My eyes squeak awkwardly when I dart them from Gabby to Jason. Is this about his father’s new lady friend?

“I forgive her,” Jason says quietly, cracking a very small, but a very certain smile. “To understand all, you must forgive all. I think I understand her, now.” He gently picks me up and kisses my head. “Through all of the heartache and neglect, I understand.”

He scratches his ear and laughs, before standing and walking back into the house. I bug my eyes at Gabby.

“What was
that
about?”

Gabby clears her throat and shrugs. “Ah, you know. Adults. You’ll probably work it out later. Shall we finish our masterpiece?”

While we build the remainder of the castle, I think about what Gabby said earlier. I’ve only known the professor for a month, but he is very thoughtful. He redesigned my treasure chest and ensured that I have everything I could possibly want. He sat down and painted a portrait of Gabby and me and taught me about the endangered animals. He takes care of his sister Sianne, who lives in the guest room. She’s a little odd and talks to herself, but he treats her the same way he treats us. He always puts everyone’s needs before his own, even when he’s sad.

Maybe it’s too soon for me to admit it to myself, much less to Gabby, but a flutter in my chest makes itself known whenever I see the professor. I never feel cold, hungry, sore – I don’t think I
can
feel anything, except for the warm flicker of hope that lives in my heart for the people who surround me.

I think they call it love.

used to like watching the sunsets on the beach. But it’s not fun anymore. How could it be, when Gabby curls her knees to her chest and sobs for half an hour? It’s heartbreaking.

I wish she could be happy and play with me. She told me that I spent years trapped in an attic until she took me to live with her, but I can’t remember that time. I don’t know what it’s like to not cartwheel in the sand and run from the tide nipping at my ankles. Why wouldn’t anyone be happy with that kind of freedom?

“Gabby?” I ask, my pointe shoes leaving circular prints in the sand. I rest my hands on her knee, startled by how smooth her shaven legs are. I forget she ages. She was ten when we met, but that was five years ago. Her cheeks are narrower, her hair is shorter, and her voice is maturing. She tries to make me age with her, but I don’t know why. Every March 31st, she wishes me a Happy Birthday and paints my face to look slightly older. She detaches my limbs and replaces them with longer ones, but I’m probably only half an inch taller after four birthdays.

“Go play, Ella,” Gabby sniffs, wiping away tears. “Make up new choreography.”

“I don’t feel like dancing today.” I climb into her lap when she stretches out her legs. Just because I’m dressed in a multicolored leotard and tutu, doesn’t mean I always want to dance.

Gabby doesn’t respond; instead she hiccups and strokes my bun. The seagulls overhead temporarily drown out her sobs, but her chest still heaves with each unsteady breath.

“Why do you still beat yourself up?” My neck creaks when I look up at her. That’s one annoying thing about being a doll. “It’s been three months. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a huge deal!” she snaps, gulping the later spring air. “I exposed you! I exposed the family secret! If Grandpa found out…” She stares at the waves.

“The professor won’t find out,” I say unsympathetically, a little tired of reassuring her. “He left us. He left us to be a bigshot scientist. Besides, I don’t care that people know. I can sit on your desk and learn things at school now. I hated being in that cramped bag and peeking through the pockets.”

“You’re just lucky people think you were a robot. If anyone knew you were human–”

“—they won’t.” I pat her thumb. “People just think you have the coolest toy in the world that can help with homework.”

Gabby cracks a small smile and picks up sand, running it through the gaps in her fingers. “It was Devin’s fault, you know. I had no idea she was filming.”

I shrug. “I went viral on the internet. It’s every teenager’s dream!”

“But you’re not a teenager…” Gabby mumbles, sweeping her golden hair behind her ear. It’s the same color as the sun’s reflection on the waves. I like it.

I don’t reply. Gabby’s been particularly snappy lately, so I don’t want to aggravate her further. She sniffs, tracing her fingers in the sand. “Let’s go. Dinner’s almost on.”

“What are you having?”

“Whatever the parents decide.” She lifts me onto her shoulder. It makes me feel like a parrot on a pirate. “It’s Wednesday, so probably spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti looks messy.”

“That’s half the allure.”

Gabby trudges through the sand, visibly saddened to leave behind the calming waves. I’m not–after all, there’s always tomorrow.

She ungracefully shuffles up the cement stairs until we hit the road. The street is empty, and the stores are closed. It’s amazing how quickly the world shuts down.

“I don’t want to go home.” Gabby kicks a pebble. “Pam and Jason will be at each other’s throats again.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call them that,” I say quietly, adjusting my hand so it fits in the stump better.

“It’s the only way to grab their attention lately.”

“They’re not here now,” I say, “so you don’t need to call them that. They’re your parents; you should treat them as such.”

“And you’re…” Her eyes flash when she turns to look at me, her frown turning sympathetic. She sighs and shakes her head. “No one’s who they think they are.”

I don’t know what she means. She may just be depressed. Should I find some pills in the medicine cabinet? One of them is bound to help.

“Can we walk down Main Street?” I shift uncomfortably when Gabby turns into a dimly lit street.

“Why?”

“Because the TV reported six local girls missing last night. I don’t want you to be one of them.”

She pauses at the intersection. She knows I have a point. Her usual shortcut shaves ten minutes off our walk, but it’s not a crowded area. If we take Main Street, there will be lights and people–two things that make darkness less terrifying. Reluctantly, she turns around and continues down Main Street, tucking her hands into her hoodie pockets.