Tiffany and Tiger's Eye

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I looked at the red-headed doll on my dresser. My eyes were still bleary when I whispered her name. “Yvette?”

I wasn’t crazy. I knew my doll couldn’t really speak, but ever since Uncle Flip gave her to me as a “period gift” when I was thirteen years old, I’d imagined conversations with her. There were some things I couldn’t tell my family, things I would have told friends if I had any. Yvette filled the void. I gave her a voice, even if that voice was just in my head. Whenever I visited the cottage, Yvette was my consolation.

“Yvette, I’ve missed you too.”

“You don’t understand,” Yvette said to me. “I’ve missed you. You haven’t visited me in almost a year.”

“That’s not true,” I said, sitting up on my bed. The duvet was gritty with sand. “We were up at Easter to open up the cottage. Remember?”

“Oh yeah,” she said, in that snarky voice I couldn’t stand. “I guess I blocked it out because the whole time you were here I begged you to take me home with you and you didn’t.”

Maybe I was lucky not to have friends. If Yvette was any indication, friends were more trouble than they were worth.

“I’m not having this conversation again.” I crossed my legs. Sand stuck to my wet skin and my T-shirt. The crotch of my bathing suit was full of the stuff. “I run in here crying, and all you can think about is yourself? Maybe you should have used all your time alone to become a more compassionate person. Or doll. Whatever.”

Yvette rolled her eyes. I pictured her doing this so often that I could actually see the glass beads circling in her porcelain head. “Maybe if you didn’t leave me alone so much, I wouldn’t get lonely.”

How could I argue with that reasoning? It did occur to me that I was getting agitated over an imagined conversation with a doll, but she’d become almost real to me over the past three years. In some ways, it was better to have a jealous porcelain friend than no friend at all.

“So tell me about the girl in the blue bikini,” Yvette said.

My heart clenched. “How could you possibly know about her?”

Stupid question. Yvette was in my head. Anything I knew, she knew.

In my mind, Yvette c****d her head and crossed her arms. “Would you rather talk about Mrs. Kaufman?”

“No,” I spat back. “I mean, what’s to tell?”

“You enjoy her company,” Yvette said. “That’s enough. Chloe’s another matter.”

My blood boiled at the mention of that name, and Yvette’s insistence that there was something going on with us. “I don’t even know where Chloe is. Stop being so jealous of every girl in the world. I’m allowed to talk to other people, you know.”

“You did more than talk!”

“So what? I don’t belong to you—you belong to me. You’re my doll, Yvette. I’m not yours.”

Yvette looked away. She must have known I was right. There was no point in acting so possessive.

Nobody came looking for me. Maybe Aunt Libby and Uncle Flip had seen me running up the hill in my wet T-shirt and flip-flops, or maybe Mikey had assumed I’d gone back. Either way, when night fell and that pop-gun sound exploded over the lake, the cottage was empty.

I’d never watched the fireworks alone before. It made me sad enough that I almost went back down to the lake. Almost. I just couldn’t stand the idea of being laughed at by a bunch of little kids. I’d had enough mud-slinging for one day.

In our long front yard, Uncle Flip had set up lawn chairs—the kind with aluminium frames and woven rubber tubing that your body sank into. After spending most of the afternoon reading on the prickly green couch, I made silent amends with Yvette. Without a word, I brought her out front and set her on the chair next to mine.

Fireworks exploded overhead. The display looked nicer over the lake, since every eruption echoed in the mirror of its black surface. From the cottage the explosions seemed disembodied, but anything was better than facing all the people who’d laughed at me earlier in the day. I got enough of that at school. Summer was supposed to be a vacation.

“Rebecca?” Yvette turned her fragile head in my direction. “Can I sit with you?”

My heart warmed as I repeated those words to myself again and again. Without a word, I scooped her up and sat her on my thigh. We craned our necks and watched the fireworks together. The arguments and jealousy were worth it for moments like these. When we were peaceful together, Yvette brought me more joy than any real person in the whole world.

I’m not sure how, exactly, because I know I didn’t make her do it, but as the fireworks boomed and dispersed like dandelion seeds overhead, Yvette snuck her way up my body and planted a sweet kiss on my lips. When I closed my eyes, that tiny porcelain mouth felt almost human.

When I went to bed that night, I brought her with me.