Doll Talk

by | Sep 17, 2022 | Sarah Day 2 - Group A

Doll Talk

Today she has us slanted to the right, as if we’re swerving on a merry-go-round.
There are three of us, in our frilly dresses and bonnets, with our goggle eyes always open, in a shock.
She’s owned us since she was a toddler. Along the way, we’ve seen wars, torment and bliss, and we’ve heard a gaggle of shrieks and sighs.
We were her grandmother’s originally, birthed in plastic, year 1920-something. Dates are difficult to recall when your head is filled with fouls, rubber-scented air.
We never speak, just listen and observe. We’d like to tell people that it’s better this way, that paying close attention is how you accumulate knowledge and understanding, which are, together, a kind of strength, if you think about it.
She’s older now. Quite old, really.
We watch her talk to herself in the vanity mirror on the wall opposite to her bed. We hear her talk to Dennis, who passed a decade ago, as if he’s standing right there with his clown nose and droopy gut, grinning like a jolly imbecile in love.
Other times she tries to arrange us so we’re standing on our heads, but we always flop and trundle to the floor, which can infuriate her.
Last week, she sat us face-to-face-to-face and screamed, “Well, say something, Goddamnit!” When we didn’t, couldn’t, she flung us to the floor and our thighs still feel bruised and gloomy even now.
I think she’s slanted us toward the window, nearest the light, because the sun has seen everything and it has so, so many secrets it is just dying to tell, yet no one ever listens.
We’ve discussed this very notion amongst ourselves without speaking, through our doll minds, because triplets have always been able to do that. Telepathy, it’s called.
But we’ve decided that, for once, we’ll do the talking. And what we’re going to say is really a question. We’re going to ask the sun if she can intervene instead of just standing there, all boastful and bored. We’re going to ask her to call a neighbor, call 911, call Jesus if she has to. We’ve got each other, but we know first-hand what it’s like to feel trapped and alone, with no one around to care or even notice.

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