The Doll - Parte 2

by Natalia Emery Trindade

When the daughter leapt from the car and disappeared behind the gates of the school, the mother felt relieved. A fresh breeze blew in the open window and played gently against her face. Ah… She had five hours&hellop; Five hours for herself.

She returned to the house and didn't do any of the things she had to do: didn't go to the supermarket, to the dry cleaner, didn't do laundry, didn't fix lunch. She sat on the sofa in the living room and enjoyed her solitude. Gazing at the wall without seeing, she enjoyed feeling the light breeze through the open window and the gentle noise of the birds in the garden.

Suddenly she came back to herself; she was already late! She arrived at the school and saw her daughter lying against the wall, waiting alone under the hot sun. The gates had already closed, the cars and students had already disappeared. The daughter got into the car. Drops of perspiration dotted her tiny forehead. They drove home in silence.

"Go wash your hands, the mother ordered."

The daughter left the backpack in her bedroom and executed the order. She returned to the kitchen and found the mother preparing an instant soup. The daughter hugged the dog. The dog's sad eyes seemed like two withered plums. He shared the sadness with her. He was her best and only friend.

"Oh, no! Now you've gotten your hands dirty again, the mother screamed. Are you stupid? Go immediately wash them again!"

The daughter disappeared inside the house. An absolute sadness accompanied each one of her steps. She felt the flat and solid pain underneath the sole of each foot. Guilt! Guilt! Guilt! Why hadn't she waited to play with the dog until after lunch? Why did she always do things that displeased the mother? Why did she have to be so stupid? She could never be the daughter the mother wanted. She washed her hands again and cried in front of the bathroom mirror. Then she dried her prison face and went back to the kitchen. The mother served the soup in a soup bowl.

"Won't you eat?" asked the daughter, seeing only one bowl.

"No."

She noticed, then, that the mother was crying. That filled her with even more sadness. Why did she always make the mother cry? If only she had not played with the dog. How sorry she felt for having played with the dog. Why was she so stupid? And why did the dog have to have those sad eyes like wrinkled plums? She looked at him and felt rage at the dog that she loved so much. He was her best friend, but now she felt a profound hatred. She approached him slowly and stepped on his resting paw with the shiny uniform shoe. The dog yelped and fled the kitchen.

The mother turned, ferocious:

"What did you do to him?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me! I know you did something! Why did he yelp? Huh? What did you do? Answer, you ugly doll!"

"I didn't do anything, mother. I swear to God."

The mother dropped the ladle into the pot and grabbed the strands of nylon protruding from the doll's head.

"Don't lie to me, girl! Don't lie to your mother!"

The daughter began to cry. The mother released the hair and dug her nails into an ear which she twisted like one contorts a gob of softened rubber. Holding her by the ear, she dragged the daughter into the house. The daughter scampered on ballerina tiptoes to help support her weight.

The mother opened the door of the dungeon and flung the doll inside.

"You are locked in as punishment. On top of that, no lunch for you. I don't want to see you for the rest of the afternoon. I want you to write 100 times on this sheet of paper: I should not lie."

She slammed the door with great force and locked it with a key.

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