Page 179 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
I know what it’s like to fear bath time.
I can’t make this worse for her. I just can’t do it.
But the voice persists.
The germs on your skin will cause an infection.
The words in my head, the running water driving me insane, and the dog’s mumblings, all hush. All I hear is Dollie and her beautiful song. I recognize it vaguely from The Funhouse, as it’sconstantly requested there, but I don’t know it well enough to sing along in my head. But I don’t need to. Her voice brings me to a place of peace through the melodic story of some pink pony.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her song ending.
I glance over, expecting to find her eyes on Bubbles, who has calmed enough in the water that she’s no longer shaking, and her tail wags slightly in the deepening water. But Dollie’s big blue eyes are on me. Her question is for me.
Air stalls inside me. My eyes follow hers, moving over my features.
I want so badly to say something—anything. I dare to think about what words will come out of my mouth.
I miss you.
The pink hair is pretty.
This dog is an asshole, right?
But I swallow them all down as they wait on my tongue.
A splash of water from the filthy bath caused by Bubbles’ tail catches me in the face, and Dollie, too.
I blink repeatedly while rapidly rubbing at my eyes and scars, needing it off me, needing all the germs off me.
I fall back, landing heavily on my ass.
Dollie’s reaction is different, a laugh bursting from her. The sound, like her song, calms me slightly.
“Look what you did to your dad—or maybe, uncle? I don’t know. Your Ambrose.” She laughs, still reprimanding the dog, who couldn’t care less. “You traumatized him.”
Yeah, and yet, at this moment, I feel better than I have in years.
Edging back to the tub, I roll up my sleeves, eager to get this over with. I lift the bottle of shampoo, dumping it on Bubbles this time, hoping it helps ease the twigs out.
All it does is help the band-aid slide off my thumb. Little unicorns float in the water, drifting under frothy bubbles.
“Did she bite you twice?”
Flashing the splinter to Dollie, I prove Bubbles isn’t to blame.
“Ouch,” is all she replies with. Her careful fingers move through fur, but all attempts fail, and the twig stays nestled.
Bubbles growls a little, but she doesn’t snap at Dollie like she did with me. Maybe it’s the grace she moves with, or maybe she just prefers her over me.
“Oh, screw it.” Dollie walks away, my hands still in the water, making me cringe as I wash the mud away from the dog.
With her song making its way back before her feet, I wonder if she’s doing it because she notices every time I drift off, staring into space as I search for a level of peace I’ll never find.
Her eyes on me say yes, making it harder to keep my heartbeat under control.
She returns seconds later, three items in hand, and I’m all too aware that she’s sitting closer.
The first two items are for Bubbles.
