All Dolled Up!

Charlie

The drive back to my parent's house took me four hours. It was long, though to be fair I've been on much longer trips than this.

My parents had shifted out of our childhood home about eight years ago, and so it was still a bit of a shock to see the place and note that it was different from how I remembered - because it was a totally different house, after all, though only about ten miles from where our old family home had been.

Imagine the dream American suburban home - and make it just slightly smaller in size - that was what their house looked like. It was painted a color of baby blue and even had a white picket fence around a garden which my father tried to work on- though the withering shrubs near it and the overgrown grass there told me that he hadn't really been successful with keeping up at it.

The surrounding houses were almost nearly identical, which would have made finding it difficult had it not been for my mother's trademark garden gnomes decorating the lawn. She was quite a fan of them, and though I hadn't found anything off with them when I was a kid. Now that I knew what Charlotte was like, there was a part of me that expected them to jump to life and leap at me. The same thing had happened when I passed by mannequins in any store - somehow, I couldn't shake the feeling that they were watching me, even though it was all probably in my head and a side effect of knowing what Charlotte was.

My father was there to greet me - initially I was a bit afraid of what he would think, he, much like George, had been rather critical of my idea to quit nursing and even more for my desire to leave everything and move somewhere remote. He didn't let any of that show though as he shook my hand and welcomed me. There was no judgment in his eyes, and I was very glad for that.

My mother saw me and immediately began fussing over me. "How did you cut your hand?"

"Oh, that was an accident," I said. "And it's almost fully healed, it’s no big deal."

I was saved from being barraged by any more questions as it turned out that my sister, Suzanne, or as we called her, Suzy, had already arrived.

"How was the move?" she asked.

"It's been going alright," I told her. She was only two years out of college, and if what I heard from my parents was true, was having a bit of trouble holding down a job. Still, it didn't look like she could've been too stressed out financially given the new pair of kicks she was sporting.

"Uh, Dad," I said, once the usual small talk was done. "Uh, is Grandpa going to be here by any chance?"

"Oh, I don't know for sure whether he'll come or not," he said. "He told me he had some car issues and he had to deal with them - any reason why you're asking?"

"I had some questions regarding the house he sold me," I told him.

"Well, he probably wouldn't know anything about that," he said. "It wasn't technically his house - a friend of his sold it to him."

My face twitched. "So... he didn't know anything about the place before selling it to me?"

"He might've heard some of it," he said. "But, he told me that it came from someone he trusted, so he likely took their word for it. He probably had been in it once or twice, but you’ll have to ask him for more details."

I groaned - whoever it was, it was someone my grandfather most definitely shouldn't have been trusting whatsoever. Matt's words still echoed when he had asked why my grandfather hated me when I told him that he had been the one to sell the house to me.

While things had turned out fine regarding the house in the end, I definitely wanted to give whoever had knowingly handed it to me a piece of my mind. Granted, I was definitely at fault given I had put too much blind faith in my grandfather - who looked like he had put too much blind faith in a stranger, but I still thought that whoever had started the chain deserved a gentle tap to the face with a steel chair, only without the 'gentle' part.

As a matter of fact, I had thought that Suzy had seen the house herself as well, though that also had turned out to be false. I definitely should've done my own due diligence, though, a part of me realized that even if I had I would have never thought that Charlotte would turn out to be what she was.

As for why I didn't just call my grandfather, the fact was that 'the house you sold me had a haunted doll living in it' was something that you should tell to someone in person.

We sat down for lunch, and I had to stifle a yawn. "Sleepy?" my mother asked, to which I said, "Yeah, I'm working the night shift."

"Still? Even there?" my father asked.

"Yeah, it's peaceful and pays slightly better," I told him, though I could tell that he disapproved, likely because he didn't think it was a proper thing for a professional to be doing. Then again, I was no longer a professional.

"And have you thought about going back into nursing?" this question was loaded with judgment behind it, and the honest answer from my side would've been 'no” but much like with George, I answered with a "maybe." This was to avoid a slew of even more condescending comments from my father. It wasn't a complete lie - as it was certainly possible, though highly unlikely, that I would one day wake up and then decide to go back to it, even though right now I probably would've preferred to live in a house with an actual demonic ghost doll than go back to nursing.

Thankfully, that deflected the conversation from me to my sister.

"So, did you get a job?" my father asked her.

"I already have a job," Suzy replied.

"I mean a real job, a regular job," he said.

"It is a real job, Dad, I'm freelancing for now," she said. My sister wanted to take up a career as a journalist- the issue was that she had quite a bit of student loans and my parents had co-signed them. She had come dangerously close to missing a few payments, but had never missed one as of yet.

"Right, that's fine," he said. "But are you at least looking for a regular job?" My parents had given my sister a lot of freedom and leeway growing up - more than I ever had, while I was expected to be the responsible older sibling. I think based on how my father was talking though that he was finally beginning to regret this and was likely hoping that he had been a bit more strict with her. While it was no doubt cathartic, I had to admit it wasn't like my life had turned out to be a bed of roses, so I was in no position to judge Suzy.

"There aren't that many regular, 'official' jobs, Dad," Suzy said. "At least, not for journalists."

"Then, have you considered doing something else in the meantime?" he asked her. "Can't you get another job and write in your free time?"

"I won't be able to get ahead unless I do it as a full-time job," Suzy said.

"Mom, this pasta's great," I said.

"Oh, I added oregano just like you always liked 'cuz I knew you were coming home today," she said.

"Well, are you getting ahead?" he asked.

"Come on now, you don't need to jump down her throat," my mother said to him.

"Ah, thanks for thinking of me like that," I said.

"I just want to look out for her," my father said. "I mean, she should have a job that pays benefits at least, and has a track to go somewhere." He turned to me. "I mean, look at your brother, he's doing something else right now, and there's no shame in that." No, he definitely judged me for taking the job I was doing right now - it was just that he thought even less of what my sister was doing.

"Yeah, he's had more time than me," Suzy said. "Once I get my big break, I might even get a full-time position. Until then, the best I can do is keep writing- else how am I going to get the big break in the first place?"

"Alright, that's fine," my father said. "But if you need any help- I mean, I can make a few phone calls around here and get you something."

"I don't want a job near here, Dad," Suzy said.

"And how is Seth doing?" my mother asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the topic which Suzy so clearly didn’t want to talk any more about.

"Oh, Seth and I broke up months ago- I'm not dating anyone right now, at least not seriously," Suzy said.

My father sighed - he was of the type that thought that no man would be good enough for his little girl, but even if he had more realistic standards none of Suzy's prior boyfriends would've met the bar.

"Well, good, I'm sure you'll find someone better," my father said.

"And now what is that supposed to mean?" Suzy asked, sounding quite offended given the tone with which my father had said what he said. While the schadenfreude was nice given all the grief my sister had given me over the years, and all the times where I had seen my parents drop the ax on me while she only got a slap on the wrist - I was beginning to feel quite a bit sorry for her, and was about to open my mouth to defend her when she added, "Plus, why just talk about me? I mean, take a look at Charlie - he's already found someone new."

I went from pitying her to seething in fury - she had thrown me under the bus to save her own skin!