Authors: Patricia Morrison
“What kind?”
“Debating society and drama for Veronica. She’s in the school play,
The Mikado
. Marilyn plays volleyball and field hockey. I don’t see them much.”
“I’m glad you’ll finally get to meet Jeff and John. Then you’ll know who they are when you see them at Our Lady of Peace. Katie’ll start there in September.”
Hell
.
“I hope you can get to be friends. And maybe all of us could go to Wedgewood sometime to skate? That’s where the twins are now. Or we could play baseball at the park when the weather’s better? You told me once how much you loved baseball.” Mrs. Adamson paused. “Lately, though, we never know what day Frank is going to be off. The owners of the furniture factory call him in only once in a while
these days, and he needs all the work he can get.” Mrs. Adamson went red and looked down at the dishes in the sink. “Sorry. I sometimes forget how young you are.”
I know all about dads not working
.
Jules dried the dishes as Mrs. Adamson washed. When they were done, they went into the living room.
“Well, Katie, do you think it’s time?”
“Yes, Mommy. Yes, yes, yes!”
“Okay, you bring it out.”
Katie ran down the hallway and into one of the rooms. She came back, barely able to carry a big box covered in Christmas wrap. “For you!” Katie handed the box to Jules.
Jules gave Mrs. Adamson a puzzled look.
“For you, Jules. A New Year’s gift.”
Jules sat down on the sofa and stared at the package.
Katie knelt beside her. “Open it, open it! Why aren’t you openin’ it?”
Jules pulled off the wrapping paper. She knew what it was with the first tear.
My doll. My beautiful doll
.
“Why’s she crying, Mom? Doesn’t she like it?”
“It’s okay, Katie. Just let her be.”
“Jules, Jules!” Katie said anxiously, gently shaking her arm. “Don’t be sad.”
Jules couldn’t help but smile at her. Then she looked at Mrs. Adamson. She was struggling to stop the tears. Her heart was melting.
“Open the box, open it! Let’s see the doll!” Katie said as if trying to cheer Jules up.
With Katie’s help, Jules slowly lifted the doll from the box. Gently touching the hair, she examined every inch of the lace and velvet dress.
“It’s a beautiful doll, isn’t it?” Katie declared. “I love it!”
Jules nodded.
“I got beautiful dolls, too. Lots. You wanna see?”
“Maybe Jules just wants to play with her own doll for now, honey.”
“No, she doesn’t, Mommy. That’s no fun.”
“It’s okay. I’d like to see them.”
Jules carefully placed her doll back it its box and held it tight as Katie led her to her room.
Mrs. Adamson followed and stood in the doorway, watching. Stuffed animals and dolls of all shapes and sizes lay on Katie’s small bed and dresser.
“This is Ginger, that’s Fluffy.…” Katie said, listing off the names.
“Show her Lucy, Katie,” Mrs. Adamson said softly.
Katie gently picked up an old porcelain doll from the top of the dresser. The doll wore an old-fashioned linen dress, decorated with blue flowers, and a matching bonnet.
“This is Mom’s, but I have to protect it.”
“Can I hold Lucy?” Jules looked at Katie to ask the question, but she was really asking Mrs. Adamson.
“Just for a sec. She’s
really
old,” Katie answered.
Mrs. Adamson smiled and nodded yes.
Jules kept her own doll on her lap and took Lucy. She had never seen a doll like this one before. Or if she had, only in a special display at Eaton’s or Simpson’s. The doll’s face looked like the face of a real little girl, and her hair – done up in tight black ringlets – felt real, too.
Oh, how wonderful!
Jules heard a door open and shut, then loud voices and feet stomping. Within seconds, two boys squished in beside Mrs. Adamson at the door to Katie’s room.
“Hi!” they both said.
“Jules, this is John and Jeff,” Mrs. Adamson said.
Katie had told Jules the twins were nine, but they looked tall for their age. John was taller than Jeff.
“Hi,” she said back.
“Okay, boys. I made your lunch. Go to the kitchen. I’ll be there in a sec.”
“Can Jules still play with me, Mom? Can she?”
Mrs. Adamson looked at Jules. “Katie’s found a new best friend, I think. Okay, Katie, but Jules can stop anytime she wants, and she can play with the boys or just play by herself with her doll.”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Katie sang.
“Hey, where’s our guest?” a man’s voice called from the hallway.
“We’re in here, Frank!”
Mr. Adamson came to the door, gave Mrs. Adamson a hug, and peered inside Katie’s room.
“Well, well.”
“Jules, this is my husband, Frank.”
“Hi.”
Mr. Adamson was slightly taller than his wife. He had red curly hair that looked as if it grew straight up into the air. It made his large head seem even larger. His face was freckled all over.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said, smiling broadly as he came into the room and shook her hand.
Jules blushed. No grown-up had ever done that before.
Mr. Adamson was wearing an old dressing gown over pajamas. On his feet were thick wool socks with black heels and stripes running down the white toes – like animal claws. Jules couldn’t take her eyes off them. She couldn’t believe a grown man would actually wear socks like that. It made her smile.
“So what have you two been up to?” Mr. Adamson asked Katie.
“Playing, Daddy. And Jules has a new doll and she cried when she got it, but she likes it, though, and now we’re gonna play with mine.”
Mr. Adamson turned to look at his wife, who was still in the doorway. “All right, but you can’t have her all to yourself. Maybe she’ll want to play with the boys now.”
“But me, too.”
“Of course, sweetheart.” He turned to Jules. “I’d love to stay with you both, but I’m starving. I’ve got to see if the monsters have saved some food for me.” He bent down, gave Katie a hug, and left the room.
Katie went back to telling Jules all about her stuffed animals and dolls.
About fifteen minutes later, John came back to Katie’s room. “I got the board game Aggravation for Christmas. Want to play with me and Jeff?”
Jules looked at Katie. “Do you mind – for a while?”
“O-kaaay.”
Jules carried her doll back to the living room and set it gently on the sofa. Turning to Mrs. Adamson, she said, “I’m just going to keep it in the box, if that’s okay.”
“Sure, Jules. Why don’t I get you a shopping bag for it? It’ll be easier to carry that way.”
“Thanks.”
Katie demanded to play Aggravation with Jules and the twins, but John and Jeff refused. The Adamson kids started arguing and yelling at each other so much that Jules thought something bad was going to happen. But Mrs. Adamson was able to interest Katie in playing a card game with her. John, Jeff, and Jules went back to the game as if nothing was wrong.
Just after four o’clock, there was a knock at the door.
Mrs. Chapman
.
“Would you like to come again, Jules?” asked Mrs. Adamson. “We’d love to have you.”
“Come again! Come again!” Katie shouted, jumping up and down.
What can I say? Dad doesn’t want me to be here
.
And good things never happen to me
.
“Ah – sure. I guess.”
“Okay. We’ll arrange something,” Mrs. Adamson said.
Jules squished into the backseat of the Chapman car with Veronica and Marilyn. They wouldn’t stop talking about the wonderful time they’d had with their goofy cousins. Nobody bothered to ask what she was carrying.
I don’t care. Maggie’s perfect, precious. And she belongs to me
.
H
ow do you sleep in a bed that isn’t yours?
How do you accept that the walls, ceiling, and furniture of your room look different? That the view from the window is not the same? That the houses, people, and places you used to see each day are gone – even if they were messed up and crappy? How do you talk to people you don’t know, people you have to share almost every living second with?
How do you accept it when the people you love are ripped away?
When Jules was around the Chapmans, she couldn’t relax, couldn’t even breathe properly. When she was alone in the room they gave her, she curled up on the bed, held her doll close, and tried to calm down. Or she’d lie flat on her back and stare at the ceiling, letting the air out of her body – slowly, slowly.
She couldn’t bear to be without Maggie, especially at night.
She’s the one thing I can care for in this uncaring place
.
Jules didn’t take Maggie anywhere else in the house. In the mornings, she hid her in a secret spot in the closet. No one was going to see or touch her.
Each weekday, the girls ate their breakfast with Mrs. Chapman, then left for school. It was a long walk away, so they were gone by the time Jules came down to the kitchen. Mrs. Chapman usually hummed along to the music on the radio while she cleared up. Jules ate in silence.
Mrs. Chapman reminded her of a big bumblebee. She buzzed around the kitchen, bobbing her head to the rhythm of whatever song was on the air. Jules imagined two big antennae on her head, bouncing up and down as she moved – with an eyeball on the end of each to help her see 360 degrees, so that she could catch Jules touching or taking anything that wasn’t hers.
Nothing is mine
.
Mrs. Chapman’s body was round like a bumblebee’s, too – with a stinger on the end of it.
She’d say, “We’re going to have to buy our own cow if Jules keeps drinking so much milk,” or, “Jules is like a cat – hates water and never wants to have a bath.” She’d talk that way at dinner and laugh as if she’d just made a joke. The girls would look at each other and smirk. They knew it wasn’t funny.
“Get your breakfast and make your lunch, or you’ll be late for school. Talk to me when the soap opera’s over. Put your uniform in the laundry. Don’t fight with the girls over the TV. Where are you going? When are you coming back? Stay away from the fridge. Go out and play. Do the dishes. Clean up the bathroom. Time for bed.” That’s all Mrs. Chapman ever had to say to Jules.
Mrs. Chapman loved shopping, sewing, watching soaps, and fussing over the girls, her precious girls. She never asked Jules about herself, school, friends, or her dad.
Just as well. She looks at him like he’s got a contagious disease
.
Jules couldn’t say or do anything that felt normal in that house – even though it had been five weeks since she’d come to stay with the Chapmans. And even though she tried to be friends with the girls, some kind of invisible barrier stood between them.
Veronica never answered back right away when Jules spoke to her. It was as if there were a delayed-response button on her vocal cords. She’d stare at Jules first, which made Jules feel like she’d just said something weird or stupid – that if Jules took a few moments to think about it, she’d know exactly why it was weird or stupid. Then she’d say, “What?” – and Jules would have to start all over again.
Veronica studied night and day. After finishing Grade 13, she wanted to go to university. Her world was school, friends, and boys. In that order.
Maybe she thinks I’m childish. Or bad
.
Marilyn was interested only in sports and boys. She was one of those pretty, popular girls who know who to talk to and who to ignore. Mr. and Mrs. Chapman gave in to her on everything, even over Veronica. Mrs. Chapman often said that Veronica got the brains in the family, but Marilyn got the looks and personality. They looked at Marilyn with smiles full of pride, as if they couldn’t believe they’d created a person so unlike themselves.
Marilyn complained about Jules endlessly. “Jules ate the last cookie! Jules doesn’t clean up the bathroom properly. I want to watch TV with my friends, and Jules won’t leave us alone! Get out of my chair! Get your hands off that!”
However they acted, Jules could see that Marilyn and Veronica were happy and moved easily through their days.
She couldn’t help it, but after school sometimes, she’d sneak into their room and pretend everything in it was hers.
Mrs. Chapman made a point of telling Jules that Veronica and Marilyn’s bedroom suite was “real mahogany.” A large velvet quilt in white and pink covered the bed, topped with various throw cushions. The clothes closet took up almost an entire wall – packed with clothes, shoes, hats, purses, magazines, and records. The lovely oak desk that stood near the wide window on the far side of the room didn’t look like anything that came from a
store. Mr. Chapman must have made it in his workshop.
Veronica and Marilyn had taped pictures of pop singers and movie stars from fan magazines onto the walls. Cliff Richard, the Beach Boys, Frankie Avalon, Bobby Rydell, Audrey Hepburn, Paul Newman, and Elizabeth Taylor were their current favorites. There were also framed paintings, likely done by Veronica and Marilyn when they were much younger.
They have everything they want. So they must have played with dolls when they were little
.
Jules didn’t find any in their room.
Maybe they’re packed away somewhere
.
When Marilyn and Jules were at home alone one day, Jules worked up the courage to ask. She knocked on her bedroom door, opened it, and stood at the entrance. Marilyn and Veronica didn’t let her come in without permission.
“Yeah?”
“Uh, I got this doll as a present.”
Jules didn’t want her to see Maggie, but Marilyn needed to know how big the doll was. “I thought some of my old doll clothes would fit, but they don’t. Do you have any?”
Marilyn looked Jules up and down. “I’d be more worried about my own clothes, if I were you.”
Jules felt as if she’d been punched in the gut.
“How old are you anyway? Eleven? Twelve?”
I know what you want to say. Girls my age aren’t supposed to play with dolls. So what? Who made up the rules?
“Eleven.”
“When’s your birthday?”