The door creaks loudly as I push it open, and Mum's words resound in my head; 'Promise me one thing Darla. No matter what happens, never, ever go into that room. I love you, and I don't want you to hurt yourself, okay?'
And when she had asked why, her mum had simply answered, 'I'll let you know when it's the right time.'
But what does it matter, anyway? She's gone now. And perhaps a visit is due, seeing as it is that it's my last day here. It's alright, I tell myself. I push it further.
My eyes take a while to adjust to the sudden darkness. There is no window, and the only source of light is the open door behind me. I make out dark figures, all draped with pale white sheets. But right at the far end of the room, a huge glass cupboard stands bare, with dolls lined up inside.
I step towards the cupboard. Closer now, I see that it holds china dolls. They look strangely familiar.
I push open the glass cover, and it lets out a soft hiss, as if exhaling after having held in a breath for years. A doll with blonde braids catches my eye. Tentatively, I lift it and stroke its hair, trying to think of the last time mum must have held me that way. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a creamy white envelope. Placing the doll on a chair next to the cupboard, I open it. A letter falls into my hands.
Darla,
Is this how you keep your promises? A man is only as good as his word, and now we've seen how yours is. Oh, well. You know how bad my jokes are. I knew you would come in here anyway, no matter what anyone told you. I knew you would turn out to be the next James Bond!
I just wanted you to know; Darla, I love you.
Tears spring to my eyes as I remember the last time she said those words to me; her lips barely moving, her head bare from chemotherapy, but her brown eyes as warm as ever. I turn to the letter again
Maybe you think that I abandoned you, left you with nothing in the world, and maybe you are right. Maybe you remember these dolls, maybe not. Your father and I got them for you when you were four. You asked for a doll with 'long hair and blinking eyes' and couldn't choose any at the store, so we got you all 12! You looked like a doll yourself in that baby-seat in the middle of all those dolls.
Vague pictures move about haphazardly through my head, some of them with dolls and some that captured a time far away, before I knew what cancer was and father smiled all the time. I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks.
Your father probably does not know either, but I know in my heart, he will be happy. Just give him time. I can't give you a future with me in it, but I can tie you to a past, one full of love and memories. It's a part of you, and I know you won't forget it. Ever.
Love, Mum
I place the doll back and head out, my cheeks wet. But, the dark clouds of despair seem to be rolling away, and I feel a smile trying to make its way through the tears.
"Father," I call out as I hear the front door open, "When are we packing the dolls?"
