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A Loving Doll

by Anne O'Nonymous

 

It was a typical bachelor's apartment: disorder ruled! Jim Scott liked it that way. Living alone, that disorder in his apartment reflected his life. The food in one place, his books scattered around, clothes left wherever they were dropped, and no one to nag him about the disarray!

Yeah -- no one to care about him! Damn, why did he think that!? It was the same each day, coming home to an empty dwelling. Working a dead-end job, having no social life, with no good reason to get up in the morning. What did he have to look forward to? He was an only child, parents gone, and no known relatives. His life was an empty shell!

A quick check of his mail showed the usual give-to-this-or-that appeal, unwinnable sweepstakes stuff, and more junk. Then, a catalog! He was used to getting catalogs – seemed he was on the "World's Biggest Sucker" list. But, this one was different; it was a doll catalog. He saved the catalog, and filed the balance in the circular file.

"Now why would I be getting a collectible doll catalog? I don't have any children."

It was puzzling. "Oh well," he thought as he put a TV dinner in the oven. Putting the TV on, he watched until he heard the timer go off. He got the dinner out, left it to cool a bit while he got a table to put it on. He ate a meager dinner, watched TV, and had another hour of his life go by.

After discarding the food tray, just for curiosity's sake he told himself, he picked up the catalog and leafed through it. They were all so, so, well adorable was the only word to fit.

There was a Baby Teddie, Baby Judy, Madeleine, Fawn, Tabitha, and Melissa -- all 24 to 30 inches tall. Then, he saw her! Standing 30 inches tall, she was the prettiest little girl he ever saw, with deep blue eyes, red pouting lips, and wavy, shoulder-length silver-blonde hair. She was dressed in a Gingham dress and appeared to be calling out, wanting him to pick up and hold her.

"This is silly! What the hell's come over me? Grown men don't hold dolls!" he thought. Maybe a glass of beer might help.

One bottle became two, then a six-pack. As was his usual weekend practice, he fell asleep on the couch, in his mind not really drunk, but also not quite sober.

The next morning, he relieved himself of the beer burden from last night, and made a breakfast of cereal, toast and two-spoon instant coffee. A second cup of coffee followed the first. After showering, he followed his usual morning habit.

"What to do today? Laundry, do dishes, or watch cartoons?"

"Well, we could do dishes, shelve the books, then watch cartoons," he answered himself. To hear a voice, any voice, he often talked to himself.

Grabbing another six-pack, he flung himself on the couch, drank beer and watched the mind-numbing idiocy called Saturday morning cartoons. Such was his life!

Sunday, it was the same: a breakfast of cereal, toast and coffee. He was about to indulge in more beer, when he saw the catalog again. Again, the pretty dolls.

"I have got to be going crazy – I guess it's because I'm so lonely!"

There, he finally said it – admitting to himself something that was quite evident. The admission broke him, tore apart the "I don't care" façade he put up the last few years.

"There, damn it, you happy now?" he screamed at himself, "You fucking bastard, you fucking happy – being alone, no friends, no social life – or what!" He wanted to smash something, destroy something other than his life; then the tears came, at first a trickle that was easily staunched, then the flood. Finally, he gave in to his feeling of absolute loneliness, and let out deep, painful sobs of despair. Again, the pretty dolls.

Calming himself as much as he could, he blotted dry his eyes with a dozen tissues, picked up the catalog and thumbed through its pages. There she was again – her pretty smile, honey-blonde hair, pouting lips. She could be all his -- his little friend and his link to sanity.

"Jennifer" was her name! She was a pretty "Jennifer," and she would be there to greet him when he got home, to talk to, and, well, she would be his friend.

Making out the order form took only minutes, sending the order a few more, but the anticipation of her arrival. Day after day, he watched for the delivery.

It was only ten days, but, to Jim, it seemed a year. The package was about four feet high, and a little more than twelve inches on each side. Carefully, he opened it and took out its oh-so-precious cargo! She was thirty inches high, with beautiful blue eyes, and even prettier than her picture in the book.

"Crap! What the hell was I thinking? A doll, for chrissake," he said angrily. "If anyone at work knew I had a doll . . . ."

His idea was to repackage the little cutie and return it with a note saying somebody played a joke on him.

Still, she was pretty – he could not resist holding her. "Just for a moment," he said, in justification of that tender feeling. Picking up the doll and cradling her in his arms, he was surprised to find how comfortable it felt – it was like this was meant to be.

"Well, my dear little Jennifer, it looks like you have a new home!" Jim said, not expecting an answer.

"Please, call me Jennie!"

It wasn't spoken, just an impulse he felt. "Another nail in my 'sane' coffin," he thought.

"Okay, Jennie it is!"

Well, with a pretty girl around, his place needed to be a little more orderly. The rest of the day he spent organizing the mess, cleaning out old bills, magazines (especially the "girly" type), and generally making it more like a home. The beer in the fridge also got the deep six; can't drink too much around the little lady.

He vacuumed, mopped, and cleaned areas that hadn't been cleaned in months. Books were shelved, clothes picked up, and a real home created for his "little girl."

"There! It looks so much nicer, don't you think so?"

"Oh yes, thank you!"

Again, the thought came. It wasn't clear like a person speaking, more like a feeling – "woman's" intuition came to mind. It wasn't the best explanation, just his only one.

Before he went shopping for food, he told Jennie where he was going and what he was doing. It felt great to have someone, even if it was a doll, to share his life with.

Shopping, at best a nuisance, was usually for beer and boxed frozen food. This time he got several spices, fresh vegetables, several different cans of fruit, and packaged chicken breasts. He even read each label, looking for the best nutritional value, and took advantage of free menus given out in the store.

Entering his apartment, he called out, "Jennie, I'm home!" Of course he didn't expect an answer as he put the food away in the fridge, but there was a strangely warm feeling from that little "I'm home" statement. By being there for him, Jennie gave him a reason to come home.

Back in the "living" room, he picked up Jennie, sat her on his lap and watched a game in progress – explaining to her all the various plays and team formations. Oddly enough, she seemed very interested.

After dinner, he was sitting with her when he felt her ask, "Where's my mommy?"

"Mommy?" Startled, he said it out loud, "I'm your 'daddy' dear." He was now starting to think he was going crazy – how could there be any other rationalization for that thought.

"Oh, please! Would you be my mommy?"

"I . . . I . . .," he stuttered, trying to figure how to answer a doll's appeal. After all, it sounded like a reasonable request, but this was from a doll, of all things.

"Pretty please with sugar on?" came the small voice in his head.

"How would I be your mommy, dear?" Jim asked, hoping there would be no answer.

A little girlish giggle came, then, "Silly, you wear a mommy's clothes, care for me like a mommy, read to me, hug me, 'n' teach me how to be a good girl."

Jim now thought he had lost his last grasp on sanity. That long remark was not something he would have thought; no, it indicated he had gone over the edge.

"Jennie, dear, I can't be your mommy, 'cause I'm a man."

Man! Oh really? The sarcasm was quite unmistakable – how many times had he been overlooked at promotions, called "miss" on phones, bullied at school and the name-calling. He avoided people because most of the time they meant trouble, and he didn't want to be "trouble," so he stayed out of the way as much as possible. Maybe he just got too good at staying "out of the way."

"Oh please, won't you be my mommy," a soft child's voice came again in his mind. A soft, pleading child's voice!

"Yes, Jennie, I'll be your mommy," he replied.

Monday and Tuesday, during lunch, he shopped several stores. Sizes were a problem, as he had no idea what sizes he took in female clothing. Tuesday evening, with Jennie by his side, he consulted the Internet and soon had printed out several tables of sizes. Also, he found places could do some anonymous shopping for various outer- and undergarments.

If he thought he would have trouble in the stores, he was surprised at how helpful some of the salesclerks could be! Many worked on commission, added on to a base pay, and couldn't care less who brought what. By Friday, he had a somewhat basic wardrobe that would do for a while.

He ordered videos of various "How-to's" in cross-dressing to correct his voice, walk, and mannerisms. If he was going to be Jennie's mama, it had to be done properly – no matter what. He knew everything has its cost!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It took a while, but soon they came and evenings, after dinner, they would sit down together and watch the videos. He would practice for an hour or so before going to bed. Weekends, with Jennie watching, he would practice putting on makeup, wigs, or try experimenting with his voice. Friday and Saturday nights, he would sleep in nightgowns of various materials.

During the week, he was Jim Scott, and weekends it was Elizabeth and Jennifer Short, mother and daughter. He became quite adept at dressing, even doing, and enjoying, clothes and grocery shopping.

Jennifer had actually brought a lot of positives: he was losing a beer gut, eating more nutritious foods, looking forward to returning home each day, and had a different outlook on life.

Seven months ago, Jennie came into his life and changed it for the better! So, what happened on Wednesday he took quite calmly.

Mr. Charles Thomas Everhart, esq., called him into his office and said, "Emm, Jim, although your work is, eh, satisfactory, we have found it essential to, em, cut back manpower in certain departments. Unfortunately, you're one of the people that, emm, we are letting go. There is, of course, two weeks pay, and, err, a bonus. I'm really sorry to have do this, but the tough times we are experiencing make it necessary."

Oh sure, he could have screamed that Mike Shaw, #1 ass kisser, was kept on, or that management bonuses would still be given out, but he didn't – he just picked up a final check, cleaned out what passed for a desk, said his goodbyes to a few coworkers, and faded away.

At home, with Jennie, they had a meal and watched TV together, and Jim Scott went to bed.

Thursday, Elizabeth Short got up. S/he made a light breakfast, cleaned and vacuumed the place, and read Jennie some stories s/he had wanted to do for so long.

Friday came, and Jennie urged him to look in the paper.

"Sweetie, what's so important there?" s/he asked, no longer fearing for his/her sanity. S/he had grown closer to Jennifer, closer than anyone previously.

The thought came like a whisper, "your life." I felt no stress, my last alcoholic drink was months ago, and I managed to lose forty pounds of excess weight.

Elizabeth opened the paper and looked through. The only item that caught her attention was, "Opening Today! Doll Exposition – A Three-Day Extravaganza, Featuring Artists from Around the Country!" A glance through the smaller promotional type revealed that Jennifer's creator would be there.

"Oh look, Jennie dear, maybe I can go there and get you a sister!"

"Oh goody," came back in a now-familiar, comforting child's voice.

Jim feared the voice in his head, thinking his sanity was going; Elizabeth embraced the sound of her daughter's voice, knowing it was keeping her sane.

After dressing neatly, and somewhat conservatively, Elizabeth said a goodbye to Jennie and set off for the show. For driving, she changed shoes, wearing a pair of flats she kept in the car. (Jim thought it odd how he became Jennie's mother; Elizabeth believed it was natural.)

At the show, she paid the $5. entrance fee and went into a huge area with approximately one hundred and fifty booths of artists, manufacturers, dressmakers, and other doll-related products. It was like a heaven had come down to earth.

She made her way through booths with small, tall, fat, skinny, white, black, oriental, woman and baby dolls, past booths with doll's jewelry, clothes, and other accessories. There were "Jessies," "Monicas," "Kendras," and Barbies of all types; dolls for collectors, children, and even a few valuable Victorian antique dolls.

An oddity was the amount of males. You would expect that no self-respecting male would be within a mile of the place, maybe a few young boys dragged here by their mothers. (One way of disciplining a rowdy boy would be to buy him a doll and have him carry it around for a month or two, Elizabeth thought.) Making an extremely rough estimate put the total at ninety percent female, and ten percent male – it was possible that most of them came with a girlfriend who collected.

Turning into an aisle, she saw them. "Jennifer," Sandra," and "Tiffany" were out in front of a booth. Entranced, she went over and examined them closely. Near the back curtain sat a very attractive black-haired woman going through a pile of papers, an occasional frown gracing her pretty face.

On the front table stood a doll, approximately Jennie's height. She wore a white dress with a petticoat slip and a bright blue sash, her dark brown hair was secured with a big blue bow, and the white ballet slippers also had a blue ribbon bow. The face was like that of an angel, so appealing that it was hard to turn away from. Elizabeth was enraptured!

"Pretty, isn't she?"

The question came from the dark haired woman now approaching her. The face of the woman was graced with a gentle smile, radiating a softness of the dolls surrounding her.

"Yes, she is very pretty. I have a 'Jennifer' at home," Elizabeth volunteered.

The smile broadened as the angel continued, "That's Jessica! She's being introduced here as Jennie's sister. Unfortunately, she is our prototype, and not for sale."

Nothing ventured, etc. "My name's Elizabeth, Elizabeth Short."

"Nicole Allen. I'm Jennie and Jessica's creator, designer, and friend."

"I am most pleased to meet you," Elizabeth stated emphatically, "Please, call me Beth, Nicole."

"Please, Nikki! Are you a collector?" she said, guiding Beth behind the front tables and back to a seat.

"I got a catalog . . . ," Beth began the story, omitting the male parts, as she walked with her new friend, "and when I saw the Expo, I had an urge to come down."

Nicole smiled at her as she began, "Interesting! My sister and I started a small doll clothing business when we were in high school, and when we had enough money we started making the dolls, too. I managed to buy a factory nearby to start producing dolls, only I've run into problems. I have the creative staff, only I don't have any operations people."

At her hesitation, Beth inquired, "In other words, you can make the dolls, but you want someone to do the mundane."

Nikki smiled, replying, "That's about the size of it!"

Well, Beth, there it is, right at your feet. You can run an office; you're skilled at it. Beth rose, walked over to Jessica and looked at her. Turning to Nikki, she said, "I've some skill in running an office; do you have an application?"

"Hey, great! Fill this out."

Beth took the paper and worked on it as Nicole greeted and talked to several other ladies and their children. It didn't take too long, and soon she had all the information down in black and white.

After giving the filled-out application to Nicole, Beth received a pass for tomorrow, with an "I'll let you know about the job tomorrow!"

Back at the apartment, a jubilant Beth grabbed Jennie and danced all around the room. Oh such happiness she felt! Then, the coaster started its downward path.

S/he! "Suppose she finds out, Jennie, what am I going to do," Beth asked her little companion.

For once, there was no answer. Jennifer kept her silence, and a sad Jim Scott made his way to an early bed.

Jim woke up on a soaking pillow, and made a cereal, toast, and two-spoon coffee breakfast. It looked like it was back to the Saturday morning comics. Still, there was the chance . . . . small chance . . . minute chance. It was worth a shot – hell, what could he possibly lose.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Beth approached the booth, and was intercepted by Nicole's "C'mon, let's get a cup of coffee."

In a small eating area at the back of the meeting hall, Nicole selected a fairly private area. She went and got coffee and donuts for both of them.

Nicole started, "I was raised in this area, and I still have friends here. Starting in this business I took chances, as I need some risks in my life. Funny, isn't it! I need someone who knows office work, you do. Mostly what I need is a person to schedule orders, get raw materials of all kinds – cloth, boxes, plaster for molds, etc. – and keep files, answer letters. I hate office work; I want to design. Interested?"

Beth sat, stunned at this. It could mean a job, interesting work, and, and . . .well, it might even lead to something, but . . . .

"Damn, that is one tempting offer, Nicole. Really tempting, but I would be living a lie. I need to confess – Ms. Allen, my name is really Jim Scott, not Elizabeth Short. I'm a man. I guess I'd better be going now," Jim said, holding his head up, the tears coming out again.

"Do you like Jennie?"

"I love her too much to measure! She is my reason for living!"

"Then, give others their reason, too," she simply said.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was Sunday night when Nikki, Beth, Diana (Nikki's sister), and Jennie held a party for the introduction of Jessica, Jennifer's sister, and for Beth's new job! If pressed hard, the trio would admit to hearing childlike giggles at the party, but only to real friends.

 

EPILOGUE:

Two years later, on a warm summer's day, two beautiful brides walked, simultaneously, down the aisle. They exchanged beautiful feminine filigreed diamond wedding rings as they promised to trust, love, cherish and honor each other for as long as each shall live, and, in that manner, became Ms. Nicole and Elizabeth Allen-Short.

Up front, in a special reserved pew, sat Jennifer, her sister Jessica, and a dozen others who made this very special occasion possible.

 

Goddess bless,

Annie O

 

 

 

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© 2003 by Ann O'Nonymous. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.