The Dollmaker

VI.

Lights flickered and danced around the room of the restaurant. Candles lit the table, giving off a warm and scented glow that gave the place a fancier appeal to it. Annie was beginning to feel uncomfortable with how formal everything was . It felt like a date...

She twiddled her thumbs nervously as she stared out the window. It was already ten minutes past the time they were supposed to meet up. The shop owner was getting fussy with her loitering, but when another worker told him who she was, he let her be. So far this wasn't going well.

She sighed a deep sigh when she seen the man scurrying across the street towards her. Jittery, she opened the door for him, shivering against the cold spring air. He apologized for the wait and smiled softly.

Vincent was holding a rose. It was pure white and the petals were soft and fragrant. Blushing, Annie took the flower and looked away. She had never received a flower from a man before, so she wasn't sure what to do or say. She smiled softly, and tried to hide her face.

The man's soft hand nudged her arm. She looked up again, and realized he was also holding out a box of chocolate. Thrilled, but confused, she took it and thanked him. She didn't know why she was so happy. It wasn't like they knew each other.

The two took their seats and nervously took a look at the menus. The silence was awkward, but not threatening. Both felt like they should say something, but didn't want to be the first. Vincent was frowning slightly at the menu, but smiled when he looked up at her.

When the waitress brought out the wine, and their cups were poured, the talk began. Vincent was the first to talk, to Annie's dismay.

"What did you want to speak to me about?"

Annie frowned slightly, feeling bad.

"What do you mean?" she asked, defensively.

"You're the psych ward worker. I'm the mythical madman. I know you don't actually care about me," he said, quietly but coldly. "You have to observe me." He sounded like he was stating facts that he was sad about.

Annie's heart broke and she didn't know what to say. Lights flashed all around them, and happy music played, but all she felt was sorrow. Maybe she should just leave on Saturday...

"I told you I quit, remember?" she said, praying that perhaps there was still hope. " I'm moving on Saturday..."

"You're lying," he said, smiling sadly. "but it's okay."

Annie sighed heavily and shook her head. She didn't know what to do or say. She was lying but not lying at the same time.

"I brought my sketchbook..." he said, reaching into the bag that was around his shoulder. He pulled out the mysterious book everyone wondered about. Seeing it now though, she wasn't even curious.

Annie felt hopeless. Her one shot at staying was ruined now, and the weight of the move in four days was beginning to pay its toll. This was real and it was going to happen.

"I don't need to see the book..." she sighed, pushing it away. "I'm sorry."

Vincent looked a little upset as he took the book back. His look of painful rejection made her reach out for it. When she grabbed it, he loosened his grip on it and let her take it. Annie could feel his calm, but anxious eyed gaze as she flipped through the pages.

The pages were filled with beautiful women. Two pictures were made of each, one of them laying down in a coffin, and the other of their faces in perfect detail. She recognized some of the people and didn't others. She knew that the ones she had known had all passed away, so she concluded all the girls in the book were dead.

Some of the women were tall and thin, while others were short and round. There was a mixture of the classes and styles, and as the book progressed you could tell the last drawings were from current time periods. She noted the immense detail in each face and the way the girls looked alive. She liked the pictures and was mesmerized.

"These are amazing..." she breathed, hesitantly closing the book. Even though she had gone through it three times already, she kept hoping that more pages would appear and she would be carried away into the wonderful world of drawings. She reluctantly handed it back.

Vincent thanked her and safely tucked the notebook away into his bag again. He was smiling a genuine smile and seemed pleased.

"Why do you draw them?" Annie asked.

"I don't want them to be forgotten," he replied.

"Forgotten?"

"So many times people die and after a month of mourning, they're completely forgotten. Gone. Nobody thinks or cares about them anymore.... It's rather sad if you think about it. We're dead and then when everyone we knows dies, we're truly dead. Erased."

Annie nodded slightly and she took a sip of her wine. Her thoughts traveled back to when she was younger and her grandfather died. She hadn't thought about him in a good while. She wondered if anybody did anymore...

"I apologize," Vincent said, interrupting her thoughts. "I shouldn't have said something so dark and frightening in front of a lady..."

"It's basically my job," she smiled, trying to push away the thoughts that began to crowd her mind. "It's alright."

Vincent nodded slowly, sipping his glass as well. He seemed to be copying her.

"Why do people think I'm a madman?" he asked thoughtfully. "What do they say about me?"

Annie took another sip before setting her glass down. She felt more comfortable around Vincent now and less on guard, despite his darker note. She thought long and hard before answering.

"People find it weird you draw the dead," she replied. "They also say your house is filled with dolls, and you never come out except to buy licorice. Some say you live with a woman, but no one knows who she is, they've just seen her silhouette in the window. They think perhaps you may have kidnapped her..."

Vincent's brow furrowed deeply, and he looked concerned. Despite the odd rumors and the frumpy way he dressed, he seemed very kind and gentle. He seemed to perhaps be struggling with some depression, but he didn't seem dangerous at least. Mentally disturbed, but not dangerous.

"Do you think I'm a madman?" he asked slowly, haltering.

"No," Annie said quickly, surprising even herself. "Not yet."