I went over by 27 words. “It’s perfect!” Marie said to me as she lifted the doll up with her mitten wrapped hands. I didn’t think anything of it. It was so old and dirty. It looked like it would have been a piece of art years ago, but now, it was dated. The auburn hair was tangled, and the rosy porcelain cheeks were chipped. “Can you buy it for me for my birthday?” Marie continued. I looked at my daughter. She looked back up at me with those hopeful brown eyes that I could barely see. That reminds me, she needs a haircut. I stared at her for a moment longer and her smile began to fade. “Please?!” she begged once more. “How much for the doll,” I asked the shop keeper. The shop keeper was an older man. He wore a cabby hat, a burgundy striped dress shirt with a matching burgundy vest, khaki pants, and a pair of brown loafers. His eyes hide behind a pair of wire thin glasses and he had a gray mustache that featured a hint of black in the middle. “What’s that, you say?” “How much for the doll” I repeated. The man looked at the doll lifting his glasses as if to see the doll better. “Oh that? Five dollars.” I flip through my wallet and hand him a five dollar bill and thanked him. “Can we get ice cream too,” Marie asked happily skipping as we left the store. “Man, you’re really milking this whole birthday thing, aren’t you?” “I won’t tell mom, if you won’t.” “Deal.” My daughter was sitting in the booth at our neighborhood Baskin-Robbins. I could hear her having a conversation with her new doll, she named Annie. I returned with a cup of bubblegum for her and rocky road for me. “Whatcha guys talking about?” I asked. “Did you know that Annie survived the Great Depression?” “Oh really?” I humored her. At the time I thought that kids’ shows have gone a long way from when I was a kid. It never occurred to me that Annie was in fact alive. “And who told you that?” “She did.” It never occurred to me that my daughter was telling me exactly what happened. That following morning I found Annie sitting alone on our couch. Marie’s mother and I are divorced and she was now at her mom’s. “Hello, Annie,” I smiled as I went to pour myself a bowl of cereal and flipped on the television. “Hi, John.” I remember the little pockets of cinnamon bounced against the bowl. I remember the milk splashing on the cereal. The carton seemed bigger than usual. I took a bite expecting the taste of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Soon I could see the counter. The news continued its report on who knows what and I felt my arms and legs stiffen up as if I couldn’t move. A woman stood over me with tangled hair and rosy cheeks then black. I woke up and I was at the shop where I first bought Annie. The old shop keeper walked by, stared at me, and continued walking away with a sigh shaking his head.
Posted on: Mon, 17 Mar 2014 21:41:13 +0000
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