Deadlocked Dollhouse Read online

  Mark drove home with the radio blaring again, his hands pounding at the steering wheel as if it was his own personal drum set.

  But his eyes lingered on the rearview mirror where he could see those perfect little shingles in the back of his truck. He had tried to put it in the passenger seat because he wanted so badly to keep the thing protected. It wouldn't fit, so he was driving like an old lady now, going barely over fifteen miles an hour. That dollhouse was worth it. Not one shingle would blow off, he told himself.

  It didn't matter the price tag; that thing was expensive. It had all of its tiny little furniture in a shoebox behind the counter. He couldn't believe his luck.

  The shoebox was insane. Mark had barely even looked inside the dollhouse, but the shoebox... He had never seen such perfectly carved tiny intricate pieces. The drawers on the dressers all opened and closed. There were tiny little bits of food, and they all came apart and clicked together. The cherry on the ice cream sundae could be removed and replaced. He had never seen anything in his entire life so elaborate.

  Whoever died and donated this thing to charity was his favorite person.

  He thought about the look on Coralina's face. He remembered when he was young, he got a Nintendo Sixty-four and he screamed like a maniac at Christmas, jumping and dancing around the tree. He remembered it vividly, while his dad said to shut the fuck up from the other room. They even had it on tape... He thought he had remembered that part wrong because surely his dad would be sitting with them, always opening presents on Christmas morning. But he wasn't, he was in the other room, according to the video. And yet, still when he watched that home-video that his mama made, he could feel the excitement exploding out of all of his limbs.

  He hoped that Coralina would do the same thing – that she would jump and scream like a wild maniac, except he would be in the room with her. Because he was at least a better dad than his own dad – he hoped.

  Chapter Two

  He snuck the dollhouse into the driveway and into the garage, and then he popped his head into the house. "Hey, Kelly?"

  His beautiful bride came wandering out to the garage. She grinned as soon as she saw the dollhouse. And then, in typical Kelly fashion, she frowned and shoved him. "What the fuck! We can't afford this."

  "I'll skip lunch all week," said Mark. He put his hands up as though they were in a hostage situation.

  "All week? You mean like... for the rest of your life? Did we win the lottery? And if we did, why the fuck did you spend it on a dollhouse?" Her eyes were sparkling, and even her tone had a laced amusement behind it. They cursed a lot at each other, but neither of them took it personally.

  "Fuck, baby. Don't get all touchy! I only spent eight bucks. And three was on this," said Mark as he whipped out the bike seat.

  "Oh? So you robbed someone?" Kelly retorted, her hands sitting on her hips like a power ranger.

  "No." Mark couldn't stop grinning. "Someone priced this wrong at the thrift store."

  Kelly let out a scream of delight. Mark could not wipe away his own smile. If Kelly could get this excited, he could only imagine how Coralina and Beth were going to react. "You are insane," she said, grinning ridiculously large.

  "I want to set it all together and clean it. It's pretty dusty. I'm sure there's some broken stuff on it. Let’s fix it up tonight and hopefully give it to them tomorrow."

  She mimed locking her mouth and throwing away the key. Then she winked at her hottie husband and went back into the house.

  He spent an inordinate amount of time carefully unpacking every little piece of furniture. As he worked, carefully dusting each tiny piece of furniture with cotton swabs, he wondered if Beth was quiet because she felt unloved.

  Or was Coralina loud because she felt unloved? He took a deep breath and tried to calm his stomach. He always had this feeling, like he should be doing more. Ever since he read those articles. Abuse travels down family lines. His dad was a rough man. And even though he made every effort to be gingerly sweet to his children, he didn't really connect with girls that well. Probably why he married Kelly, because she was a tomboy at heart. They had gone hunting together plenty of times before they got married. He'd seen Kelly cut the head off a deer like it was nothing.

  It was hard for him to connect with little girls, he thought as he cleaned and prepped the massive dollhouse. Hell, it took all his effort not to curse in front of them. And he wasn't even sure there was any reason not to curse in front of them. It wasn’t like they were going to turn into serial killers if they said fuck at age two. Or would they? He would read parenting books in secret on his breaks because he never wanted Kelly to know how terrified he was.

  But still, it made him feel like shit when he screwed up.

  The dollhouse had a bunch of pieces of furniture already inside it, permanently installed. There was a fireplace attached to the wall, as well as a stove and kitchen cabinets. The dining room table was adhered to the floor, and one chair on the side next to it. The chairs were in the box, and he carefully set them around the table. He tried to move the one chair that was glued to the floor, he had an idea that maybe he should break it loose so that the girls could move the chairs wherever they wanted. But as he touched it, it flipped over on its back, and the table suddenly popped open.

  He was so startled, he could've been knocked over with a feather. His mouth was agape, and he was holding back the urge to laugh really hard. He could not wait to show Kelly this. Holy shit, he had gotten a good deal.

  He looked inside the table, and there was a fragile table leaf and three more chairs. He pulled out the table leaf and set it in place. Now the table was fit for a party. Carefully, he picked it back up to slide it back in place, and it snapped in half.

  Fuck.

  Fuck, fuck.

  How could he do that? How could he have destroyed this intricate, perfect piece with his big, fat, stupid man hands? He turned and clenched his fist so hard the veins on his hand and his arm started to pop. Slowly, he counted to ten. He would have to be a hell of a lot more careful. With an exasperated sigh, he tried to close the table, but it wouldn't close, not without the table leaf in place. The table leaf either needed to be inside the table or on top of it. A pinch of anger bit between his eyes. He barely touched it, and now the table was practically unusable.

  Maybe he could get a replacement part?

  He just couldn't believe that he would break it right off the bat like that. What was wrong with him? He was why they couldn't have nice things. He was why. Mark himself, not Beth, not Coralina, not Kelly. Mark was the reason why they couldn't have nice things.

  He did not touch another item on the dollhouse, instead leaving it and going inside. Let it rot and grow dusty. He was too angry to touch the thing again today.

  Chapter Three

  In the morning when he was driving his red truck to work, he was not drumming on the steering wheel like he normally did. In fact, he turned the radio completely off. All he could think about was that damn dollhouse.

  It was in perfect condition except for the now broken table leaf. It bugged him just the same as a splinter in his hand. This table leaf was a splinter in his brain. If only he could replace it. And once the idea caught hold, it was all he thought about. He needed to get home and see if there was some sort of label on the dollhouse, then he could just order a replacement part. Even if it was fifty bucks for the replacement table leaf, at least the table wouldn't be stuck open, mocking him.

  He was really excited, plus spending money was half the point! Real dads provide for their kids, no matter the expense. If things were too easy to get, were they even valuable? He really wanted to make it perfect for Coralina and Beth.

  He wanted to make sure their lives were perfect. That they had everything they ever dreamt about, unlike him. Their childhood would be nothing like his own childhood.

  Work today was the same as every day; he had to carry heavy things, hammer things. Do construction work, usually sawing wood and hammering
it together. It often put him in a good mood to use his body to build beautiful things, but today, he was in a lousy mood. He was building a big, beautiful house for someone else to live in – again. Someday he would be able to make something beautiful for his wife.

  Mark wanted a 3,800 square foot house. He'd been staring at the floor plans for at least two years already. He'd never built one quite the same as the one he wanted to build her, but someday, maybe even after they had another baby. It was one of the things he dreamed about and resented, alternately. Babies, the future, and a beautiful house for his wife.

  Today he resented the man and wife who owned the house he was building. Jealousy didn't consume him too often, but he wanted to make his family happy. He wanted to live in the kind of house that made the dollhouse look cheap.

  It was quitting time, sooner than he expected, and he had built two new walls. He found himself back in the red truck, driving his sorry butt home. Despite having planned to skip lunch, he did eat two apples. He felt kind of like a jerk eating the only two apples left in the house, but sometimes that was how it went. Sometimes he just had to eat.

  Mark didn't go in the house and say hello to Kelly or to Coralina or to Bethany. Instead, he scurried to the dollhouse. He carefully looked over the shingles and walls but didn't see any a print mark. He lifted it with strong mighty hands and held it above his balding head and saw... nothing.

  He scoured the pieces of furniture, looking for just any indication as to who made this house. But nothing. As he was scouring the inside, carefully looking for some indicator of who made this dollhouse, he noticed that a book on the dollhouse’s bookshelf was sticking out just slightly. He touched it with his finger and it fell backwards, and as soon as it did, the bookshelf swung open. He was back to all grins, the bothersome table that he had broken suddenly fading into the background. It had a secret room!

  Inside the secret room were three dolls. They were also wooden and had blank faces with no eyes or mouth, and only the slightest carving that indicated where a nose would be. They were very plain-looking, and he wondered why the dolls themselves looked so unexciting in this ornate house. He carefully set them up so one was sitting in the library, one was sitting in the kitchen, and the final one was sitting in the bathtub upstairs.

  "Are you going to have dinner with us or what?" said Kelly. She was frowning at him. How long had she been standing there?

  He felt like an idiot instantly. "Sorry, I broke part of the table. I was trying to figure out if we could get a part for it."

  "Who cares? You can just make a different table," said Kelly, completely disinterested in the broken part. "The pizza is getting cold."

  "I can't make one like this. It's really... difficult. It's intricate. I just need to get a part," he said, running his hands over his thin, nearly nonexistent hair before replacing his baseball hat.

  "There is no way we can buy a part for this dollhouse. I bet it'll cost hundreds, you dork." But she smiled with a happy grin. "Pizza?"

  He grabbed her ass and they both went into the house. Coralina and Beth were already at the table, munching down pizza slices as if they were going to run out. In fact, they might at that rate.

  Guilt immediately washed over Mark. He stayed in the garage all day yesterday, and now today again? He was going to miss out on their entire childhood. "How was school today, ladies?"

  Between bites of cheese pizza, Coralina said, "Good. I've been doing quite well in my class, and I am going to get a solo in the choir this year. I've already decided."

  Beth looked up at her dad, smiled and waved, not saying anything. She didn't like talking out loud, as far he could tell.

  "And you, Beth?" he encouraged, trying to get at least a few words.

  "Yep," was all she said, and then immediately shoved a giant bite of pizza in her mouth as if to end the discussion.

  "You know, you can't just decide you get a solo, Coralina," said Kelly as she grabbed herself a slice and shoved the rest of the pizza towards her husband. "Your teacher gets to choose."

  "Yeah, but I can make her choose me by practicing," said Coralina as she took another bite of the hot stringy cheese mess.

  Mark thought about the little dollhouse again, and its shattered little table leaf. He frowned and chewed his lip a little bit. Maybe he should just give them the dollhouse as is, and he'd have to figure out the table later?

  He bit his tongue quietly, contemplating. He didn't want to be one of those dads who didn't care that he broke something of his child's. Never, he would never be like his father.

  It was driving him crazy like a splinter he couldn't get out of his skin.

  Chapter Four

  As always, it was Kelly who resolved to solve the problem. "After you finish your pizza, your dad has a present for you." And she winked at Mark.

  He winced, imagining that the children would say, “Oh, what a beautiful dollhouse,” and then immediately retort, “But who broke this table!”

  But that was the way it went sometimes... Sometimes stuff broke; it wasn't anyone's fault. Okay, it was his fault. But...

  "Hey, Dad. What did you get us?" said Coralina, her smile bright and wide.

  Beth even had big bright eyes staring up at him. She looked so curious and he wondered, like he often wondered, what was she thinking?

  "Are you done eating?" said Mark with a big smile.

  "Yep, I am," said Beth. And he knew she was really excited if she would answer him with three actual words.

  "All right, run to the living room and close your eyes. I'll be there in a second," Mark said, and he stepped into the garage. He lifted the giant dollhouse carefully, like a cake. He didn't want to knock over any of the tiny little bits of furniture inside. He had this ongoing fear that maybe they'd see through him. They'd see that he was an impostor, not a real dad. Not a good dad. But one just pretending to be that way. Perhaps that was why he felt so bad about trying to give them nice things.

  But Kelly, ever present with her smile, said, "What the fuck? Stop taking so long."

  She held the door wide open as he carefully walked into the house through the tiny kitchen and into the living room. He set it on the ground as both girls were sitting on the couch, hands covering their eyes. Beth was clearly peeking. But Coralina was absolutely determined not to see the surprise before she was told it was time.

  "Here it is," said Mark. And he waited; he waited to see if this would be Nintendo Sixty-four screams, or if they would just be the regular variety. He wanted to know would they love him forever?

  Both little girls screamed. Coralina did a full-on cartwheel, she was so excited. And they both dove right in, fiddling with the little dolls, and running them up and down the stairs. Coralina made her little doll slide down the banister, and as it got to the end, it hit the knob at the top of the rail. The knob spun just slightly and there was a loud click. And all of the stairs popped forward suddenly. Each one was a tiny little drawer, and inside each drawer was tiny bits of plates and spoons, and other accessories for the dollhouse. It included clothing for the dolls, and paper books with actual paper pages.

  Coralina screamed even louder, with a high-pitched excited squeal. Mark, even with his ears ringing from the brutal pitches that she was able to make, found himself grinning endlessly. Kelly reached around his shoulders and wrapped herself tight around him. She kissed his ear and whispered, "You did it. You made them so happy."

  Mark knew he was gonna get laid.

  In the morning, Mark was in an excellent mood. He had managed to play doctor with his hot wife all night, and his little girls were both happy as larks.

  He got up at the early time of five, usually leaving the house by five twenty. Working construction had many perks, but sleeping in was not one of them.

  He was surprised, though, to find Beth sitting in front of the dollhouse, carefully playing with each of the dolls. She was quiet, barely making any sound. But he could see her mouth opening and closing as she made them talk to
each other. No sound came out of his daughter, but he was happy that she was even pretending conversations. Perhaps that would give her the confidence to say what she was thinking in her pretty little brain.

  "Hey, Beth, why are you up so early?" said Mark as he quickly pulled on his shoes.

  "I found this," she said, and she turned her head just slightly and flicked her eyes up at her father. She was so adorable; six was his absolute favorite age for little girls. Maybe for all humans; they were innocent and they were wild. And yet... They saw the world as something good. He longed for that softness to be still within his soul. He held out his hand and she dropped a little paper into it. When he opened it, he saw it was a certificate that said “Authentic dollhouse from the maker Pierre Vlad Amar.” Underneath, it didn't have a website, but it did have an address. He was so excited, maybe he could finally find that replacement part!

  Mark drove to work and started building another wall for another home that he would never get to live in. They were sent home a little bit early because they ended up needing a dumpster that wouldn't arrive until morning. It was fine by Mark because he wanted to drive down to this address on the paper that Beth had given him. He was so excited, even though his truck was rattling even louder than normal, and his brakes suddenly started squealing. Even though all of that was going on, he was back to drumming on the steering wheel like his life depended upon it. In his head, he was a world-class drummer, but in reality, he was pretty mediocre. If not completely inept.

  He was looking for 919, and not a few moments later, he finally spotted it. The building said “under construction” on a bright yellow sign on top of a faded one that read “custom dollhouses.” He stood, clearly baffled. This was the place – except the interior of the building looked like it'd recently been gutted.

  He shielded his eyes from the sunshine and peered into the glass. He was hoping that he would see some sort of indication that maybe they were just remodeling and he could come back next month and... He felt a tap on the shoulder.