Dolly

Chapter 1

Bitter, cold rain? Seriously? Walking to my mother’s front door from my car in her gravel driveway, I was met with a torrential downpour, soaking me to the bone immediately. I was not dressed for this weather, considering ten minutes ago it was 85℉ with bright, clear skies, nor did I have an umbrella. Such unpredictable weather here. I wonder how much a meteorologist gets paid around here. The only job in life where you can be 100% wrong and still get paid! Is this why you loved Colorado so much, Mom? Sure, she’s got a nice view, but that fickle personality of hers is a deal breaker. 

As I approached the front door, I reached into the thigh pocket of my drenched leggings, only to realize I left the keys in the car. I could see them in my mind. Sitting nice and dry in the cup holder of the center console, were the keys to my past, present, and future. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me! Not again,” I groaned. I exhaled a huff of frustration, squared up my shoulders, and braved the storm once again. Water began to accumulate very inconveniently in the driveway, making me grateful for my weekly Pilates classes as I stretched my way over puddles toward the car. I hastily opened the driver’s side door and retrieved the keys, slammed the door shut harder than I intended, and began navigating through the waters once again.

I fumbled with the keys, not knowing if it was from getting caught off guard by the rain, or the mere fact that I was about to do something that I had been dreading for weeks. Get it together, Hannnah. Put the key into the lock, turn the key, turn the knob, open the door. Easy breezy. After what felt like an eternity and my brain remembered how keys work, I unlocked the door to my past and stepped in.

The warm familiar smells of cinnamon rolls and coffee with a hint of stale cigarettes did not greet me as they usually did. Instead, I was greeted with a stale earthy scent. A thin layer of dust blanketed the furnishings. As I stood in the foyer, drenching the silk rug beneath my feet, I habitually called out, “Hey mom, I’m…” I’m… I’m here and you’re not. I am literally all alone. Ugh. Get. It. Together. Hannah! And get off of the rug before you completely ruin it! I glanced down at the rug and made a mental note to dry it out. 

My sopping wet clothes became extremely uncomfortable. I headed to Mom’s bathroom, undressed, and grabbed her robe off of the bathroom door. I hesitated. I couldn’t bring myself to put it on. Pressing it to my face, I inhaled. Before I knew it, I was on my knees, wailing, weeping, and repeating the only question I had been asking since that dreaded June afternoon, “Why?”

Minutes that felt like days passed when my phone rang. Pulled back into reality, I wiped my face, steadied my breath, and carefully picked myself up off of the floor. Out of habit, I glanced at myself in the mirror and grimaced. The explosion of my bottled up emotions definitely left a mark on my face. My eyes were puffy and red, my skin was splotchy, my nose was stuffed, and my lips had become so chapped that they looked like I had on MAC’s Ruby Woo lip liner. Glancing at my phone’s screen beneath slightly blurred vision, I saw that it was Jen on the other end.

“Hey, Jen,” I said, trying to make my voice sound like I hadn’t just been crying.

“Hey, Han. You OK, girl?” She asked with a bit of worry in her voice.

“Ugh, is it that obvious?” I replied with a sigh.

“Han, can I bring you anything? I’m on my way to you now from the airport,” Jen replied. “Tell me what happened. I mean, aside from the obvious. Is it just from being in there?”

“No, that’s not it. Yeah, it sucks being here, especially alone, but that’s not what broke me. I think today was just the final straw,” I told Jen about the rain and key fiasco on my way into the house, about grabbing Mom’s robe and all of my emotions erupting out of me.

“I’m so sorry, Hannah. I’ll be there as soon as possible. I love you, girlie,” Jen responded.

“Thanks, Jen. I love you, too.” There was a pregnant pause before I added, “Hey, Jen? Do you think you could bring some cinnamon rolls?”

“Sure thing,” she said.

After ending the call, I finally emerged from the bathroom wearing the robe and carrying my wet clothes and headed straight for the laundry room. After tossing my clothes into the dryer, I decided I needed to keep myself busy until Jen arrived. I should probably start in my room. I’m less likely to cry over my things.

Entering into my room was like walking into an early 2000s time capsule. I never did clear out my old things and neither did my mother. My CD rack, filled with my eclectic collection of NSYNC, Incubus, No Doubt, Sublime, Backstreet Boys, Spice Girls, Christina Aguilera and the like sat dust covered next to the 1999 iMAC that got me through high school. I sat down in the desk chair and tested out the swivel. After a slow spin, I paused and stared at my closet.

“Please don’t let me find my low rise True Religion jeans in there. Please tell me you donated those, Mom,” I said to the air around me as I got up and walked toward my closet door. I swung it open, and there they were next to my massive collection of halter tops and waist belts. It could be worse. I thought to myself. It could be your screamo closet from college.

“Hannah! Hey! I’m here!” Jen yelled from the front door.

“In my room!” I hollered. I grabbed one of my halter tops and held it up. Then I draped it over my head and turned around to the sound of Jen’s footsteps.

“What in the Forever 21 nightmare are you wearing?” She marched into the room, tossed a box of cinnamon rolls and a paper bag with two bottles of wine inside onto my old bed, and pushed past me, making her way into the closet. “Oh, I am getting in on this!” she said as she rummaged through the clothes. After a minute, she let out a loud gasp followed by an “ah-ha!” Whipping around quickly to face me, Jen draped my prom dress over her shoulders while making exaggerated movements. 

“Ah, yes, very cringeworthy. I give it two stars. Don’t forget the break-your-leg stilettos,” I said as I took an oversized bite of a cinnamon roll. As soon as the gooey warmth hit my tastebuds, I was reminded of Sunday mornings with my mother. We would sit at the kitchen table eating freshly made cinnamon rolls while clipping coupons from the Sunday paper. “You know these clothes aren’t going to fit us! Our thighs are too thick.”

“Yeah, but thick thighs save lives,” Jen murmured from somewhere inside the closet. She was sorting through the boxes of shoes on the floor, determined to find the stilettos. Suddenly she screamed and nearly dropped the box she was holding. “What the hell, Hannah? Why do you have a broken porcelain doll in a shoe box? It scared the crap out of me.”

It took me a few seconds to process. “Dolly,” I whispered.

“You named your doll, ‘Dolly?’” Jen said. “Why have I never seen this? We’ve literally been friends for over twenty years.”

“She’s from before I knew you. I didn’t know what happened to her after…” My voice trailed off.

“After what?” Jen asked, intrigued. She handed the box with Dolly’s broken pieces to me.

“Oh, no. I’m not getting into that without popping open one of these,” I said as I held up the bottles of wine. “Which one do you want? It doesn’t matter, because I’m taking the red.”

We made our way to the kitchen, and once we were settled with our wine and Dolly, the repressed memory of that fateful night broke free and came pouring out.

Chapter 2

“Babciu!” Hannah squealed as she ran to her grandmother in the driveway. Her curly blonde pigtails bouncing in beat with her every step. She grabbed her grandmother’s leg and squeezed.

“And hello to you, too, my little myszka,” her grandmother replied, smoothing out one of Hannah’s pigtails that had tangled itself into the other. “I brought you a present, but you will have to wait until after dinner.” Hannah looked up at her grandmother and gave her best puppy dog eyes. Her grandmother gently tapped the tip of Hannah’s nose, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. “After dinner.”

Hand in hand, Hannah and her grandmother walked up the driveway and made their way into the kitchen.

“Mama’s making Grumpies,” Hannah said excitedly.

“Go-ump-key, Hannah! Go-ump-key!” John Junior, Hannah’s older brother, said slowly. “How many times do we have to tell you before you get it right, dummy?” 

Hannah stuck her tongue out at him. He stuck his tongue out at her. Their grandmother eyed them both and shook her head disapprovingly.

“JJ, be nice to your sister. She’s five and still learning. Now get out of the kitchen,” their mother stated. JJ was about to protest, but he stopped after he noticed his mother’s hand raised making the universal stop hand gesture. He huffed, puffed, and left the kitchen while murmuring something that sounded like “spoiled brat” under his breath.

The kitchen smelled of boiled cabbage and chopped onions. Hannah paused and stared at her mother. Her blonde hair was perfectly pinned up in a twist, an apron tied around her waist above a floral print tea length dress, her nylons were almost perfectly matched to her skin tone. She noticed her mother’s white pumps had been kicked off to a corner near the sink. At that moment, Hannah could not help but compare her mother to a Barbie doll. 

“Diana,” Hannah’s grandmother said, pronouncing her name DEE-ana, “I insist. Why don’t I help you with dinner? That cabbage is overcooking. It will rip when rolling it.”

“Dolly,” Diana stated blankly. She was a proud American woman and did not like other people in her kitchen. But Dorothea, known as Dolly to her family and close friends, could be very insistent and did not like to take no for an answer. Diana yielded. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

Hannah watched as mother and daughter in-law worked side by side blanching cabbage leaves, chopping onions, and shredding carrots. When it came time for preparing the meat mixture, Diana asked Hannah if she wanted to help out. Hannah leaped at the opportunity and quickly washed her hands. Dolly added one pound of ground bison, one pound of ground pork, and one pound of hot sausage into a mixing bowl. Then she added egg, breadcrumbs, onion, carrots, cooked rice,  and dried mushrooms. 

“Okay, myszka, put your hands in the bowl and squeeze it all together,” Dolly said with a grin. She demonstrated to Hannah how to properly squeeze the mixture together.

Hannah’s eyes grew large. Mama never mixed the meat this way. She had always put it in the stand mixer. She stared at her mother, who nodded her head in approval, and then stuck her hands into the bowl. 

“It’s so squishy and sticky!” Hannah squealed and she pinched tiny portions of meat together. Dolly helped Hannah to mix the ingredients together.

Once it was all mixed together, Dolly and Diana heaped large quantities of the meat mixture onto cabbage leaves and very carefully rolled them and packed them tightly into a roasting pan. The women then carefully doused the stuffed cabbage with a creamy tomato sauce, covered them with parchment paper and foil, then placed them into the oven. Occasionally, John Senior would enter the kitchen to have a peek at the progress or try to steal a kiss from Diana, but Dolly would shoo him away.

While the cabbage rolls baked in the oven, Dolly prepared mashed potatoes and brussels sprouts, while Diana started preparing Hannah’s favorite dish.

“Cinnamon rolls?” Hannah asked excitedly. Her mother said nothing, she just looked at Hannah, smiled, and winked. “Yummy! Thank you, Mama! You’re the best!”

Remembering her grandmother’s promise about receiving her gift after dinner, Hannah scarfed down her food. Several times throughout the meal, her mother and father reminded her to chew her food. She did, however, take her time savoring every last bite of her cinnamon roll during dessert.

After dinner, John Senior and Junior cleared the table and got started on the dishes. Diana, Dolly, and Hannah made their way into the living room. Diana and Dolly each with a glass of wine. Hannah with a glass of juice that she pretended was wine.

“Myszka, come sit by Babciu,” Dolly said, patting the seat next to her on the sofa. She had a large gift bag with a wooden box inside. 

Hannah sat next to her grandmother, becoming curious and excited at the same time at the sight of the large bag. Her grandmother always brought her the best presents. Last time she visited, Dolly brought Hannah a porcelain tea set that she had purchased at a consignment shop.

Dolly lifted the box out of the bag and placed it onto her lap. She carefully opened it, revealing a porcelain doll. The doll had blonde hair in braided pigtails, blue eyes, and wore a traditional Polish folk dress with a black bodice, red skirt with flowers, and long white puffy sleeves. On her head, was a crown of flowers. Beads in intricate designs were sewn onto the bodice. Dolly carefully handed the doll to Hannah.

“Baba, she looks just like you, but she has piggy tails and you don’t,” Hannah said to her grandmother, grabbing the doll and cradling it in her arms like a baby. “What’s her name?”

“That’s for to decide, little mouse,” Dolly said, wrapping an arm around Hannah and giving a gentle hug.

“I think her name is…” Hannah paused, looked at her grandmother, nodded and smiled, “yep, Dolly. Her name is Dolly, just like you, Baba.”

“Hannah, what do you say to your grandmother for that lovely and fragile gift?” Diana asked from across the room.

“Oh, right! Thank you, Babciu!” Hannah blushed.

“Nie ma za co, myszka,” Dolly replied. She glanced at her watch and sighed. “Oof, is that the time? I need to go before it gets dark.” She gathered her belongings and headed for the door. “Diana, thank you for dinner. Hannah, take care of Dolly. Junior, you keep growing, ok? Get big and strong, like your papa and your Dziadek. John, don’t forget you can call your Mama, ok?”

John walked his mother out. Hannah and the rest of the family remained inside. The night carried on like any other night. Hannah had a tea party with her tea set and her new doll. Her parents sat in the living room and watched the evening news. Junior was outside practicing baseball. 

The phone rang. Hannah heard her father answer it. “Yes, this is John. What? And you’re sure it’s her? Is she going to survive? Oh my God. Ok. Where is she now? Ok. Thank you. We’ll be right there. Thank you,” he said into the receiver, panic and worry in his voice. 

“Daddy?” Hannah made her way to the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”

John looked at his daughter, tears filling his eyes. He said nothing to her and rushed past her toward the living room. Hannah could hear him whispering to her mother. She peeked around the corner and saw that her mother was beginning to cry.

“Mama, what’s going on? Why is everybody crying?” Hannah asked, holding her doll.

“Oh, Hannah,” Diana sniffed before she walked over to Hannah and said, “There was an accident tonight. Your grandmother’s car was hit by another car.” She paused and took three deep breaths. “Hannah, I know this is hard for you to understand, but your grandmother, she has passed away.”

“She died?” Hannah asked. She reached her hands up to her face and covered her eyes. With that movement, her Dolly crashed to the kitchen floor. Her beautiful porcelain face shattered into pieces.

Chapter 3

“Oh my God, Hannah,” Jen exclaimed. “You were so young. I’m so sorry you had to experience that at such a young age.”

“Yeah, it really sucked,” I said. “Until today, I think that was the last time I cried. I didn’t even cry when Dad passed away from cancer.”

“I’m so sorry, Han. Everyone grieves in their own way. I mean,” Jen took a sip of wine then continued, “maybe the connection to losing your mom suddenly and unexpectedly finally released it all for you?”

“Maybe,” I shrugged. I picked up a piece of Dolly’s broken face and turned it over in my fingers, careful not to rub the sharp jagged edges. “I think it’s time to mend Dolly.”