Dolls

Chapter 4: No Pens in Math Class

     I was still sulking the morning after my adventure outside. I just couldn't understand why Father had made me come inside so soon! It was so beautiful out there. Why wouldn't he allow me to stay out there longer? I sighed softly and shifted on my bed once again, the comforter rubbing against my skin, and gazed out of my large bay window. The sun had barely begun to rise, casting pale light across the dew covered grass. Goodness, it was even more beautiful in the morning.

     I lay there under my covers for a while longer, watched as the sun steadily rose into the trees, before I finally decided to get up. I stood and quickly fixed my ruffled, white nightgown before sliding my feel into my fuzzy slippers and heading out into the hallway. My toes wiggled inside the furry shoes as I walked. I was still fascinated by the softness of the slippers.

     Father's bedroom door was already ajar when I walked past it. Curious, I peered in. His room was a bit darker than mine. His bed was a wrinkled mess, his comforter laying only halfway on the bed. Father must have already gotten up.

     I continued down the hallway towards the kitchen. It was silent in the house. Not even a stiff breeze was circulating. Maybe Father had left without telling me. But as I grew closer to the kitchen I could hear the muffled sounds of Father working in the basement. So he was here.

     How long has he been up? I wondered, as I stepped into the kitchen.

     The tile floor caused my slippers to loose their grip slightly and I had to concentrate on walking a bit more than usual. I wasn't used to sliding around on the floors. Finally getting a grip, I made my way over to the fridge. Out of my peripheral vision I noticed a small china plate sitting in the sink. Bread crumbs and smeared jelly covered the surface of it. At least Father had eaten something before he went down to work. I pulled out the loaf of bread and some jelly before I made myself some breakfast as well. I toasted the bread until it was a light golden brown in our old, tarnished, metal toaster. A few moments later the bread jumped back up like a fish jumping out of the ocean, and I slid it onto one of the light blue china plates. After a battle with the jelly, trying to get it to spread out over the bread completely, I sat down and had my breakfast.

     The sounds of Father working down below were both comforting and somewhat concerning. He seemed to always spend his time down there. I knew what he was doing, of course. It was his career. He was down there crafting dolls for his customers, or to sell at the local knick-knack store. I just wished that he would do his work in a different room. One with more light maybe, so that he didn't look like a vampire when he finally came back upstairs. I guess it couldn't be helped though. The house was small to begin with, so the only logical place to put his work space would be down in the basement. There was enough room for both him and all of his materials. So I couldn't really complain, could I?

     The day passed slowly. I alternated between playing with my stuffed white cat and reading the books that Father had bought for me whenever he went into town. Every so often I would wander past a window and stop to gaze outside for a few moments. I longed to adventure out there again and feel the cool grass between my toes, and feel the wind caress my cheek just as gently as it did the first time.

     If Father's ever in a good mood one day, I'll ask him to take me out again, I decided. Persuading him would be a bit of a challenge, but I was sure he'd understand.

     It was dinner time when Father finally emerged from his workshop. I had called him up for lunch, but he never answered. I figured he was deep into his work and that it was best not to bother him at the time.

     As always, I had cooked us a steaming hot dinner, and as always, Father complimented me on my excellent culinary skills. We both filled our plates and sat down at the small table.