Barbie World (Baby Doll Series) (3 page)

It feels like a life time ago.

I know that he wants more from me, but I just cannot give him what he wants. He just doesn’t get it. Even if I wanted to, we cannot be together. He doesn’t have anything to lose, but I have everything. I kick off my boots by the front door and make my way to the kitchen. I’m starving. Roxie’s moms are great, but they have nothing except weird health food that tastes like cardboard in their fridge. I’m surprised Roxie isn’t rail thin, I mean I feel like I lost a few pounds eating that crap and it was only a few days.

I take out some turkey and cheese to start making myself a sandwich. I still can’t get used to the fact that the fridge is always full. It’s like Mrs. Knight’s favorite pastime is going grocery shopping. I grab a bag of sour cream and onion chips, my sandwich, and a huge glass of coke before moving into the living room. I set my feast on the coffee table, prop up my feet, grab the remote and begin my search for something good to watch. A girl with a huge, neon pink wedding dress trimmed in lime green catches my attention. Grabbing a handful of chips, I get comfy and settle in watching a show
called My Big Fat Gipsy Wedding.

I am two episodes in and a seventeen year old bride—
geesh
—is bawling because she cannot fit into the limo when the phone rings. I ignore it like I normally do. This is not my house, so it just doesn’t feel like it is my place to answer the phone. It rings a couple more times before the answering machine picks it up.

”
This is the Knights residence we cannot get to the phone at the moment, please leave a
message,” Mrs. Knight’s cheerful voice says.

“Hello Mr. and Mrs. Knight my name is Joan White, I work for New Leaf Counseling… “

I am projected forward, my back rod straight. Shit. The Knights don’t know what happened with my last therapy session, and I would like to keep it that way. I was sure my diabolical plan to get out of going back had worked since I hadn’t heard back from Danny boy. I don’t need anyone to tell me how fucked up my life is, I already know. Shit, why can’t they just leave me alone?

“I need to speak to you concerning Barbie Starr. If you could give me a call back…”

I jump up, race to the kitchen, and yank the phone off the receiver. “Hello,” I shout into the phone. I can hear Mrs. White stumbling with the phone and I cringe at my hasty reaction.

Mrs. White quickly recovers. “Hello, I was just leaving a message on the answering machine.” I don’t say anything and the silence hangs around us like a heavy weight. Finally she clears her throat. “Well then, I am Mrs. White from New Leaf Counseling services. I am calling about Barbie. Are you her?”

“Yes, this is me.” I bite at my finger nail nervously. “Barbie, I just got off the phone with Mr. Monty and he feels that it would be in your best interest if I take over your sessions from here on out. When can I schedule you in?”

“Well I am pretty busy…”

“How about tomorrow at three o’ clock?”

“Well…”

“I could come over there instead. Tonight, if that would be more convenient for you. I would like to meet the family that you are staying with. It says here that they have two children, a girl and a boy. That must be nice, how are you getting along with let’s see… Dylan, I think that is his name. He is around your age, right?” she asks.

“Three sounds great,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Perfect,” she chimes cheerily into the phone. “I will see you soon then… and Barbie, wear a pair of pants when you come.”

I don’t reply. I just hang up the phone and erase the message.

###

I am back in another wood paneled room in the shortest skirt I have with the overly perky Mrs. White who does not stop smiling. She must prescribe herself some good meds. She has short, white hair cut into a bob with heavy bangs that set off her wide nose and she wears very little make up, if any. A purple, chunky, plastic necklace hangs from around her neck like a noose while she swims in a shiny black shirt and matching pants and a pair of tan Birkenstock’s cover her feet. She looks like she should be in counseling herself.

Her office is littered in papers, small knickknacks and dusty picture frames that hold pictures of two, ugly, beagle dogs behind her desk. A tie-dyed poster with a huge, yellow, smiley face that says “Don’t worry, be happy” is taped up in the center of the room.

The room has the faint smell of piss in it; I wrinkle my nose and watch as she thumbs through a pile of manila folders. “Ah, here we go, right at the bottom of the pile. One day, I have to get these filed away, but here is a secret about me, Barbie, I function better within the organized chaos. I once had an assistant who thought she was doing me a favor by organizing everything when I was out of town. God, she was an insufferable twit. It took me weeks after firing her to get to where I could find anything at all.”

I sigh. I know what she is trying to do. She is telling me something about herself so that I will feel comfortable enough to share with her, trying to show me she is human with her quirkiness for being unorganized, and attempting to make a friend. Well, I find her annoying and kind of a bitch for firing her assistant. Nothing she does will make me share with her.

“I think it looks like a shit hole in here.” I smile, and she burst out laughing; a rumbling laugh from deep inside of her, she even snorts.

“You are right God; she is going to be annoying. I am now regretting chasing off poor Monty. At least with him I could control the situation. This one is going to be a hard nut to crack. I stare at her while she tries to get herself under control. Taking a deep breath she sighs. “Okay you have an hour with me. That is what is required by the state. An hour a week. Unless you feel you need more, I am here and here is my cell phone.” She reaches over the desk, her flabby arm jiggling as she tries to hand me the card. “You can contact me anytime that you feel like you need to talk.” I sigh and grab it, tucking it into the waistband of my skirt.

“Your hour begins now.” She pushes a button on a stop watch and places it on the desk in front of me. I stare at the second’s racing down, but they are not fast enough. “Is there any subject you would like to touch on?” she asks after a few moments of silence.

“Nope,” I reply.

“Come on, there has to be something you need to get off your chest. You went through a lot this year; your mother being an addict, her boyfriend trying to kill you, and let’s not forget to mention the turbulent relationship you had with your boyfriend before he left you for that girl, Katie, I think it is.” She holds the file up to her nose.

What the hell? How much shit does this lady know about my life? A red hot poker feels like it is being dragged through my veins and anger pulsates up my throat. Who gave her this information?

“It cannot be easy living with him, seeing him with someone else. That has to hurt. Not to mention, seeing how a normal family functions, that’s got to really sting.” She makes one more jab before she puts the folder down and stares at me with beady, brown eyes. I want to scream at her as I jump up and punch her in the face, but I stay silent. “You should work with me. I have
the power to dismiss you from further sessions.” She folds her hands and places them under her chin. “I will make you a deal. Two months. You give me two months. I ask the questions and you answer honestly. You do that and I will sign that paper that says no more.”

The room feels like it is closing in tightly around on me. “Isn’t that blackmail?” I glare at her.

“Yes. Yes, it is. Do we have a deal?”

I want to run out of this room, yet I have the feeling that Mrs. White has the power to have me dragged back into this building kicking and screaming. I could make the deal and lie to her when she asks me a question, although something tells me that will not work with her. I think one of her other super powers is a bull shit detector.

“Fine.” I cross my arms protectively. I can do this for two months. I have lived through a lot worse in my life for longer periods of time.

“Great.” She smiles. “So let’s get right down to the dirty stuff. Tell me what happened that night your mother’s boyfriend tried to kill you.”

I spend the next hour telling her about the dreadful night that I just want to forget about. She is not easily satisfied until she has dug out every last painful detail. She even asked me to explain the sight of Everett huddled in the corner in great detail. She wanted to know
what I saw, what I smelled, what I heard, what I said
… She made me repaint the grueling memories with my own blood.

Despite the pain, I refused to cry. I held on to that pain and relished in it. When I leave, the world feels too loud, too raw, to me. I stand in the sun, however I am ice cold. Roxie will be here any moment to get me. We have plans to go fill out more applications after my therapy, but I can’t see her. Not when I can feel everything. All I want to do is lie here on the pavement and die. I start walking and my legs feel too long for my body along with my feet feeling too heavy. The sun is so bright that it washes everything in white. I make my feet move; my body is on auto-pilot. I cannot feel my feet under me, but the way my chest heaves up and down, I know I’m running. I don’t stop running.

Chapter 2.
Dylan

The Radio is up as loud as safely possible. “
Smells Like Teen Spirit,”
crackles through the speakers and Third is pretending to play the drums on the dash board.

“I am a mosquito,” Third screams at me. I shake my head at him. Third continues to butcher the song, adding his own lyrics. “An albino, in need of a sun tan.”

We have no destination; we just drive and try not to think about the girls that are on our minds. I switch the station to a country one and Third wrinkles his nose as Luke Bryan comes through. I crank it up a little louder and sing along, “Baby, is someone else calling you baby!” I tap along to the lyrics on the steering wheel.

“I can’t take it anymore.” Third switches the station again.

“Hey, that was a good song,” I argue.

“Not the way you were singing it. For the love of pitch, it sounded like you were beating kittens with baseball bats. I am trying to save my poor ear drums from exploding.” He rubs at his ears for dramatic effect.

“Yeah, well, the crap you were singing was no cake walk, either;” I banter back.

His mouth drops open. “Dude, Nirvana is a classic. Cobain spoke to a generation.” I actually love Nirvana. I just like giving him shit.

“Yeah, whatever you say, dude. I think I will stick with Bryan,” I add. “Hey, there is Roxie’s car. Pull in,” Third demands. I have nothing better to do so I pull into the parking lot of Sonic. Roxie is talking to a guy dressed all in black. He even has on eyeliner and black lipstick; he looks like a wannabe vampire.

“Justin.” Third frowns.

“Huh?”

He looks at me and shakes his head at my cluelessness. “That is her ex, Justin. What is he doing here and, better yet, what is she doing with him?”

I shrug. “You want a milkshake?” I ask him.

He looks at me in shock. “How can you expect me to eat at a time like this? My lady is talking to some D-bag and you want to know if I want a milkshake?” I shrug again. “Fine, get me a strawberry milkshake and an order of onion rings,” he says as he climbs out of the truck. “I’m going to go to the bathroom.” He slams the door shut.

I watch as he strolls in front of Roxie and Justin. Even though Third makes no movement to go to her, I can tell Roxie knows he’s there. Her body language changes; she goes stiff and takes a step away from Justin.

Third takes forever in the bathroom and misses the food being delivered by the agitated waiter on roller skates. “Man I missed the waiter?” he asks as he gets back into the car. Third loves talking to the waiters about their “roller skate training” and annoying them more than they already are.

“I cannot believe you didn’t go over and say something,” I say. That is what I would have done if it was Barbie with some dude “Man, you don’t know anything about girls, do you?” He picks up his milkshake and takes a sip.

“And you do?” I grab a hand full of his onion rings.

“A lot more than you, obviously. I am just making my presence known. I’m telling her, without saying anything to her, that I am right here if she needs me.” Wow. I am impressed with his strategy. Maybe I should take Third’s approach on women.

We eat our food and watch Roxie, who is in an obvious argument with Justin. Her hands are flailing about in that way that girls have when they are angry, it’s like a choreographed dance.

“When did girls become so much more important than video games, zombie movies and Larping?” Third asks me.

“We only Larped once,” I correct him. I tap the brake pedal with the toe of my sneaker to the music.

“Yeah, and that was my best day ever.” Third looks up, smiling. His hair is pressed to his forehead with sweat. God, it is freaking hot; like Hell opened up a vent and that vent is Alabama. I drag my hand across my own brow and then down my jeans.

“Yeah, that was pretty cool, until you got your ass kicked by that huge woman dressed as the troll queen with her foam sword.” I laugh, remembering how fast Third ran from her, but she eventually caught up with him on the uphill.

“Hey, she was pretty scary and her sword hurt like hell.” He smirks again and then sighs, shaking his head. “Yeah, now look at us. Instead of thinking how to conquer the next level of Zelda, I am trying to think of my next move to impress her.” He gestures towards Roxie. She is sitting on the curb now and Justin is gone. She looks like she wants to curl up into herself. That girl is so weird. I don’t know what he sees in her. Then again, I don’t know what Barbie ever saw in me, so who am I to judge? “I just can’t figure out what I am doing wrong with that girl.” He shakes his head.

“I don’t think you are doing anything wrong. Just keep being yourself and she will come around and, if not, it’s her loss.” I give him the best piece of advice I can muster up, but I’m not sure it’s any good. My track record with women is not stellar; plus, I got that advice from my mom.

“No. I don’t think so. I think I am going to lose no matter what I do, but you know what? I don’t care.” He smiles.

“Dude, when did you grow up?” I ask, suddenly shocked at the change in my friend.

He claps me on the shoulder and opens the truck door. “When you were too busy pouting and playing with your dolls.” I shake my head because he’s right. I was too busy being stubborn. Why was he picking up pieces I broke? “Wish me luck?” he says before jogging over to Roxie. He sits down next to her and drops his arm over her shoulders. She shudders, but lets him pull her closer.