Page 3 of My Little Doe
Part of the problem was my mom’s drinking habit. She would often drink a case of beer a night, or she would hit the bar and spend copious amounts of her tip money there buying drinks for herself and others.
She wasn't always like that. Before my dad left, she barely drank at all. We played family games and went on outings. Part of her broke when he left, and it never healed.
On the walk to the bakery, a giant stray dog ran up to me—startling me. It smelled me all over. I stood frozen, unsure what I should do. It stood higher than my waist, and it lingered at my stomach area longer than anywhere else. As if the dog knew I was pregnant. By the time I got to the bakery, my entire body was shaking.
“Are you okay?” Sophia asked.
“This giant dog ran up on me and was smelling me. I honestly think it was going to eat me.”
“That’s strange, are you sure it was a dog?”
“As opposed to what?”
“A wolf?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I’ve never seen one before.”
“We’re in the mountains of Tennessee, and there are wolves. How have you not seen one before? I mean, they usually don’t approach humans.”
“Maybe just a big dog?” I really didn’t know what a wolf looked like, but maybe it could have been. It was ginormous.
“Maybe. Anyway, today I need you to run the front. I’ve gotta leave to take care of some errands,” Sophia said.
“Will do.”
Sophia was the owner of Sweet as Pie Bakery. I’d been working there for two years, usually only for a couple of hours during the school days and the weekend. Once I graduated, she promoted me to manager. With the promotion, I started saving money. I hadn’t told my mom about my savings, and I refused to dip into it if she didn’t come up with her part of the bills.
The afternoon dragged on. Heat pressed against the bakery windows. I kept wiping the same counter, pretending to be busy while my stomach rolled. The smell of buttercream used to make me hungry; instead, it made my throat tighten.
A couple of regulars came in around lunch. They talked about a wreck on Highway 441 and laughed about someone’s runaway cow. Their voices were too loud. They made my head pound harder.
Sophia arrived back right after three, and I gave her the rundown of the day. Rain clouds started to move in over the mountains. I started the walk home, one hand on the strap of my backpack, the other brushing the hot railing of the bridge that crossed the crick.
Something moved in the brush below. I froze, scanning the tree line, but it was only leaves blowing in the wind. My heart didn’t believe it. I walked faster.
Mom’s car was already in the driveway. Music thumped from inside. Aspen ran to the door when she saw me, hair wild from play.
“You’re home!” she said, and I caught her mid-jump. Her arms locked around my neck, small and warm. She smelled like crayons and peanut butter.
Mom sat on the couch with a half-empty beer; she was off this evening. The TV glowed blue across her face.
“Supper’s on the stove,” she said without looking away.
A pot of macaroni had bubbled down to a mash. I turned off the burner and scooped some for Aspen. She ate cross-legged on the floor and told me about a drawing she made of a rainbow cat. I listened until her eyelids started to droop. I took her into our room, tucking her into bed.
Once she finally fell asleep, I sat beside the window with the lights off. The neighborhood was quiet except for the hum ofcicadas. Across the street, a motion light flickered on, then off again. I told myself it was nothing. That everything was fine. Neither felt true. The next day, I’d call the clinic. I’d make a plan. For now, I let the rain tapping on the window be enough.
The next afternoon, the clouds hung low and gray. I left work a little early because Sophia said I looked pale, and I didn’t argue. My legs felt heavy. The smell of sugar still clung to my clothes, thick and sweet, and it made my stomach twist again.
Aspen came barreling out of the school doors the second she spotted me. Her backpack bounced against her small frame. She grabbed my hand and swung our arms back and forth like she was trying to lift me off the ground.
“Miss Turner read a story about a dragon,” she said. “It was blue and breathed glitter.”
“That sounds messy,” I said.
“It was magic glitter.”
“Still messy.”
