Read Online Christmas Trees & Monkeys by Dan Keohane, Kellianne Jones - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dan Keohane, Kellianne Jones
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around. William smiled and touched his wife’s shoulder. “A doll, I mean. Who knows how much longer she’ll decide to come by?”
Joanne told herself her heart was beating frantically because of her husband’s sudden appearance. But there was more. A slow burning in her stomach, a softening in her legs. Joanne was afraid. In the hall leading to the bedrooms, little Megan stood in silence and watched. Joanne looked alternately between the two, and slowly shook her head.
William stroked her shoulder. “Oh, come on. You guys got one. It’s only fair.” A light tug on her shoulder, barely perceptible, towards the door. Joanne pulled away.
“ No,” she whispered. Why the hell was she acting like this? Terrified of a doll wagon, or of the dolls themselves? Of the strange woman outside?
Megan walked up and touched her mother’s hand. Joanne flinched.
Afraid of her own family.
Absurd. She was tired. They hadn’t taken a vacation yet. Not enough rest.
“ Mommy,” Megan whispered. “Can I buy Daddy a doll?”
Joanne wanted to say “no” again, reach out and slam the door and slap her daughter then slap her husband, scream “NO, NO, NO.” Lock them all inside. Wait until that damned wagon rolled away.
Instead she wrapped her arms about herself and said nothing. What could she say?
Tears began to well. William didn’t notice as he pulled out his wallet and checked the contents. He walked into the rain alone. Joanne listened to his footsteps fade away.
Megan watched her mother, but said nothing more.
* * *
William shook the rain from his hair with one hand and held the court jester with the other. The doll’s outfit was red and blue with bells tinkling from the multi-faceted crown.
Joanne sat on the couch and did not ask to see it. Still, her husband held it before him. “Well?” he said, moving the doll a little and letting the bells jingle. “A nice one, don’t you think?”
Softly, their daughter said, “Mommy, he has such pretty eyes.”
He did. William held the doll in front of him and stepped slowly, very slowly, toward the couch. Joanne found herself captivated by the tiny blue eyes. They reflected the lamp light, shined all the bluer as William approached. She felt a warmth across her shoulders, as if someone embraced her from behind. Joanne leaned against the sofa as far back as the cushions allowed. Still, the doll loomed closer.
Her tears fell freely now. She sobbed once, but didn’t want to frighten Megan, make her think Mommy was losing her mind. The girl moved softly to kneel beside the couch.
“ Lay down here, Mommy,” she said. Joanne wanted to look away from the court jester, from his white face and jingling bells. Megan touched her sleeve, gently, but it was enough. Joanne slid down until her head rested against the arm of the couch. William held the doll and smiled.
Joanne reached out and took it. The act did not feel voluntarily - more like the doll reaching out for her. William lifted her legs onto the couch. Joanne felt his hands, wet and cold from the rain, on her ankles.
She could run. Joanne knew, somehow, that she could run, close herself somewhere safe. But for how long? This was her family. Could she ever truly run from them?
Megan fumbled with the top two buttons of Joanne’s blouse, then gently guided her mother’s hands down until the doll rested its hard white face against her mother’s skin.
Joanne’s body tingled. Her legs shook. She could run, she could run, she could run. She closed her eyes, felt the doll breathing on her neck. Not a physical expulsion of air, rather a presence - a touching . The sensation spread. Joanne no longer felt her legs.
* * *
There came a night when the Doll Wagon rolled down Claisdale Avenue for the last time. Mosquitoes circled the heads of the people as they walked slowly from their homes.
“ Dolls...” called the woman in the robes. Her wagon was empty, save for a few strings and hooks swinging
Joanne told herself her heart was beating frantically because of her husband’s sudden appearance. But there was more. A slow burning in her stomach, a softening in her legs. Joanne was afraid. In the hall leading to the bedrooms, little Megan stood in silence and watched. Joanne looked alternately between the two, and slowly shook her head.
William stroked her shoulder. “Oh, come on. You guys got one. It’s only fair.” A light tug on her shoulder, barely perceptible, towards the door. Joanne pulled away.
“ No,” she whispered. Why the hell was she acting like this? Terrified of a doll wagon, or of the dolls themselves? Of the strange woman outside?
Megan walked up and touched her mother’s hand. Joanne flinched.
Afraid of her own family.
Absurd. She was tired. They hadn’t taken a vacation yet. Not enough rest.
“ Mommy,” Megan whispered. “Can I buy Daddy a doll?”
Joanne wanted to say “no” again, reach out and slam the door and slap her daughter then slap her husband, scream “NO, NO, NO.” Lock them all inside. Wait until that damned wagon rolled away.
Instead she wrapped her arms about herself and said nothing. What could she say?
Tears began to well. William didn’t notice as he pulled out his wallet and checked the contents. He walked into the rain alone. Joanne listened to his footsteps fade away.
Megan watched her mother, but said nothing more.
* * *
William shook the rain from his hair with one hand and held the court jester with the other. The doll’s outfit was red and blue with bells tinkling from the multi-faceted crown.
Joanne sat on the couch and did not ask to see it. Still, her husband held it before him. “Well?” he said, moving the doll a little and letting the bells jingle. “A nice one, don’t you think?”
Softly, their daughter said, “Mommy, he has such pretty eyes.”
He did. William held the doll in front of him and stepped slowly, very slowly, toward the couch. Joanne found herself captivated by the tiny blue eyes. They reflected the lamp light, shined all the bluer as William approached. She felt a warmth across her shoulders, as if someone embraced her from behind. Joanne leaned against the sofa as far back as the cushions allowed. Still, the doll loomed closer.
Her tears fell freely now. She sobbed once, but didn’t want to frighten Megan, make her think Mommy was losing her mind. The girl moved softly to kneel beside the couch.
“ Lay down here, Mommy,” she said. Joanne wanted to look away from the court jester, from his white face and jingling bells. Megan touched her sleeve, gently, but it was enough. Joanne slid down until her head rested against the arm of the couch. William held the doll and smiled.
Joanne reached out and took it. The act did not feel voluntarily - more like the doll reaching out for her. William lifted her legs onto the couch. Joanne felt his hands, wet and cold from the rain, on her ankles.
She could run. Joanne knew, somehow, that she could run, close herself somewhere safe. But for how long? This was her family. Could she ever truly run from them?
Megan fumbled with the top two buttons of Joanne’s blouse, then gently guided her mother’s hands down until the doll rested its hard white face against her mother’s skin.
Joanne’s body tingled. Her legs shook. She could run, she could run, she could run. She closed her eyes, felt the doll breathing on her neck. Not a physical expulsion of air, rather a presence - a touching . The sensation spread. Joanne no longer felt her legs.
* * *
There came a night when the Doll Wagon rolled down Claisdale Avenue for the last time. Mosquitoes circled the heads of the people as they walked slowly from their homes.
“ Dolls...” called the woman in the robes. Her wagon was empty, save for a few strings and hooks swinging
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