Stuck in a Smile

I’ve heard when a doll looks just like you, there’s a small chance the doll becomes you, and you become the doll. Only if the hair is the same, the color of the skin, the expression on the face. If everything matches, and you pose next to your doll just how they’re posed, in their colorful outfits, you might become plastic.

That’s why I got my doll when I was a child. I wanted to become plastic. How wonderful a thought, it appeared to me, that I might be stuck forever in a wonderful smile. That’s why I purchased a happy doll, with a short haircut and a handsome outfit, that I might be him forever. His name was Julius. My father purchased him for me, and with him, purchased me the same clothing Julius wore. I was so happy that I might become plastic.

I cut my hair and made it much too short so I had to wait for it to grow back. I smiled just how Julius smiled, but his teeth were whiter than mine, so I had to buy whitening strips. 

“Robert, do you like your doll?” my father asked me one day.

“Of course!” I replied. “I want to be just like him!” 

He smiled, and I smiled, but that was years ago, and I don’t know where my doll is. I suppose I gave up at some point, tired of never being plastic, never being Julius. What would it feel like to become him? Would I notice? What would he think being me? Yes, at some point, I gave up these curiosities. But I want to see him now. I suppose I’ve been wanting to see Julius for years, but it’s always strange to revisit something that used to be so vital. 

If I were sad, which I often am, I wouldn’t want to see Julius. If I were angry, I would never want to see Julius, because dolls are for happiness. And if I were happy, I would be made so very sad and angry, because Julius was always happy, and I would just be reminded that I never became him. No matter how much I smiled, he stayed in his pose, his hands on his hips. 

I want to see him because I’m bored. If I felt something, anything at all, I would stay in my lonesome apartment and wallow. I might even go to the nearby pond and sit all by myself. But I am bored, so bored, so filled with nothing, and I want to feel something again, so I want to see Julius. See, he always felt something, and it didn’t matter if it was plastic. And so I dial my father’s number.

“Hello?” he asks, his voice older and raspier.

“It’s me, dad,” I reply. I don’t hear anything in return. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Well, I was wondering something,” I say. Again he pauses.

“Wondering something? You?” The way he speaks, I cannot tell what he is feeling. But he was always unreadable, I suppose.

“Yes, I was wondering if you still had my doll.”

This time, he’s not silent. Instead, he groans. “Yes, he is here.”

“Really? He’s there?” 

“Not in this room, but in the house. Basement, tucked away in the corner.”

I can’t imagine why my father would tuck Julius away like that. The basement was always a mess. My father had complained to me about the smell in there before. He rarely even explored or cleaned it up, so it was probably covered in spider webs and infested with bugs. 

“I’ll come over right away,” I say. It doesn’t matter where Julius was—be it behind a secure safe or in the sewer. I want to see him, so I will see him. 

My father’s house is not too far away—just a train and bus that takes an hour. I don’t mind the passage of time, not when I’m going to see Julius. I spent so long with him as a child, so this was nothing. I step off the bus and walk the rest of the way. When I arrive at the house, I notice that the sun does not reach the brick exterior. My father let the trees grow without trimming them, and now it was only shade. 

I knock and hear nothing, so I unlock the door and enter. My father had certainly gone some time without dusting the entrance area. My nose suddenly feels itchy and I have to hold back a sneeze. 

“Dad? You here?” I ask. 

A groan rumbles from two rooms over. It’s surely his, so succinct and serious. 

I laugh. “I guess we’ll talk later?”

Another groan. I shake my head and find the door leading to the basement. The wood has warped enough that I need to shake the handle so hard I worry it will break off. Eventually, with enough force applied side to side and up and down, the door clacks open. 

“Oh!” I exclaim, covering my nostrils. The smell is bad even here at the top of the stairs. But I know Julius was locked in here, so I descend the narrow stairs as quickly as I can. I find the light switch that I could never reach as a child and flip it on, but it seems the lightbulbs were in need of repair, for all I receive is a dim light that seeps from three dirty lamps. I walk carefully across the room, making sure I don’t trip on any of the random objects splattered across the floor. 

There is much more down here than I expected. Old bikes of mine, notebooks from my elementary school, pictures, hats, little projects I used to make. The rest of the items are all in boxes labeled with his messy handwriting. These were his things, and I suppose he couldn’t find any boxes to put my things in.

Save for one box, of course. One labeled with my name, ‘Robert’. That was kind of him. It made it much easier for me to find it. Inside is Julius, my good friend. My chest tightens. I suppose I am a bit nervous, after all this time.

Let me tell you about Julius. He was a doll with wavy, dark hair that fell past his ears. He wore a flowery shirt and sky blue shorts, along with sandals that were glued to his feet. Julius was a fan of the beach, and when I say that, I mean it. He loved the beach so much that his favorite pastime was standing on the sand and staring out at the horizon. He couldn’t even tell you all the time he spent frozen in awe at the sunset, smiling because he didn’t know how to frown. Julius was relaxed, but he knew exactly what he wanted, and even though it was simple, it was his life. Spending time looking at something beautiful. That’s who he was. Of course I wanted to be him!

I remember that when I first got Julius, I went to the beach too, just to feel closer to him. I spent hours staring at the sky and the waves just like him, until my father made us leave. I loved that time, even if it never turned me into him. I suppose it made me closer to him, which was all I could hope for.

Now I’m ready to see him, my friend. I lean down to the box and recoil. The stench emanating from this opaque container is worse than the rest of the room. My father really needs to clean the basement, because the only explanation I could think of was that an animal had died and decomposed. Still, it isn’t going to stop me. I lift my shirt over my face, take in a deep breath, and snap the lid off of the box.

That’s Julius? That isn’t Julius. Julius? The clothing is the same, but—

“Julius?” I ask aloud. My thoughts are overflowing, and I must speak. “Julius, what happened to you? Julius? Julius?”

He doesn’t speak, of course. I see next to him a slip of paper. I gently pick it up and begin to read.

‘To my son, Robert. My son, I lost you. I’m sorry, Robert, so terribly sorry. If you ever wake up, please know that.’

I stay silent for some time. I look back at Julius. His face is decayed and infested with maggots. His eyes are half eaten. His teeth are yellow and black. His arms and legs are nearly down to the bone. He isn’t plastic. He’s flesh. 

“Ah,” I said. “I’m Julius, aren’t I?”

I watch him for any reply. Even with his face nearly skeletal, I can tell he’s smiling. He got that from me, I suppose. Stuck in a smile, just like he wanted.