The China Doll

by Deborah Nam-Krane

  Two hours later, Michael was just about to leave his house when there was a knock on the door.

  "I ought to punch you, you know that?" Richard said as soon as he saw Michael.

  "Good to see you, too. Can I make you some coffee first?"

  Richard shook his head in disgust, then walked in. "How long have you been here?"

  Michael closed the door. "About a month."

  "And you were planning on telling me when?"

  "When I wasn’t going to have to ask you to keep me a secret from her," Michael said simply. "I know this is a difficult concept to grasp, but I actually thought I’d be doing you a favor if you didn’t know I was here."

  "Do me a real favor, alright? No more lying, because I think I’m just about to choke on it."

  Richard looked like he hadn’t slept all night. "Have a seat," Michael said as he gestured to a chair. "Tell me about last night."

  Richard sat back into the couch. "So she did come this morning?"

  Michael smiled again. "Did you think she was going to stay away?"

  "Not after last night."

  Michael poured Richard a cup of coffee and handed it to him. "What happened?"

  "You lose, Michael. I hate Alex much, much more than you ever could."

  "Nope, sorry, I’ve got that locked up. Costing my father his life and lying about who Miranda really was—you’re not going to top that."

  "Try blackmailing my mother into marriage."

  "Alex blackmailed Lucy?" Michael asked incredulously. "Wow, this has to be pretty good."

  "Shut up, Michael. You knew he had something on her, that’s why she didn’t go to the police."

  Michael smiled ruefully. "To be perfectly honest, I always thought Miranda was overplaying that. I guess I thought you pled my case to Lucy."

  "I wouldn’t plead for my life to her," Richard spat.

  "What did he have on her, Richard?"

  "I knew about it, Michael. I just didn’t know he did. Or for how long."

  "What was it?" Michael asked again, not because he needed more proof of what a bastard Alex was, but because he could see that Richard needed to tell him.

  "She’s gay," Richard said simply. "She was having an affair with Joanna Hazlett."

  "What?" Michael blinked. "Who?"

  "Gay. I think you understand the concept. And Joanna Hazlett is also Professor Hazlett, but since you didn’t even get through the second month of college, I guess you wouldn’t have ever come across her." Richard paused, sighing. "But in the interest of full disclosure, I think you should know that you did have a special connection to her. She was Emily’s boss. She was the person Alex used to get to Emily before you left."

  It took a moment for what Richard said to sink in. "And how is that treacherous little do-gooder?"

  "Michael, don’t start. Emily has every right to hate you, and you know it. But for the record, she cried her eyes out that day, and she quit her job the next."

  "You know, you’re right. That does make up for the last two and a half years of my life. And Miranda’s. By the way, how would you like to explain letting her be with Alex?"

  "Back off, Michael," Richard said fiercely. "She couldn’t even get out of bed in the morning. And it only got worse. I would have called anyone to get her back to the land of the living."

  "Just not me?"

  "I did call you!" Richard yelled. "You were drunk or stoned or both. What else was new? I don’t think I said anything more than her name when you started blubbering like a baby. Forgive me—I didn’t think you could help her in that state. Jesus! Michael, I’m sorry—you’re going to have to give me just one day not to be upset about that, because right now my life—and Jessie’s—are in shambles."

  Michael looked confused. "Richard, being gay isn’t a tragedy. Jesus, why am I giving you the PC speech?"

  "We are way past that." He shook his head. "I don’t think I’m going to be able to cover all the catastrophes, so let me just hit the highlights. Zainab knows I’ve been seeing Sophie—"

  "What?!?" Michael nearly spat out his coffee. "Sophie Gorman? Are you nuts? Zainab’s gorgeous, and Sophie—"

  "You really don’t want to start that," Richard said solemnly.

  Michael put up his hands. Pushing Richard’s buttons wasn’t as much fun for him as it used to be. "How long has that been going on?"

  "Four months."

  "And Zainab’s still living with you?"

  "Not after today unless I completely misunderstood her last night."

  "Uh, well, I guess that’s for the best. Now you can, um...be with Sophie. At last."

  "I don’t want to be with Sophie."

  "Isn’t that why you’ve been seeing her on the side for so long?"

  "It was never going to be permanent."

  "You’re right—you do win. You’re a much bigger bastard than I ever was. You’ve had us all thinking you were a nice guy this whole time."

  "I am a nice guy," Richard said defensively. "But I’m not stupid. I’m grateful enough to be a wonderful boyfriend but terrified enough to make a lousy husband. Zainab deserves better."

  "So why not just let her go, without screwing around?"

  "You’re really not qualified to lecture me, you know."

  "Actually, I am. Okay fine, I made out with someone once, but just so Miranda would catch us. And I realized as soon as she was gone what an idiot I was. Once I had her, I didn’t step out on my wife, and please don’t BS me that this is different, because you know it’s not."

  "It’s not."

  "So what are you going to do? Do you want to be with Zainab or not?"

  "I do, but I don’t want to screw it up."

  "I think you’ve already covered that, actually."

  "Then I’m screwed."

  "No," Michael said slowly. "You just have to swallow your pride and fix it."

  "Is that all? Got any tips?"

  "I’m working on it."

  "Work harder. She’s seeing Jessie’s therapist, you know?"

  "Yep, she told me. So how else is your life screwed up?"

  "Let’s just leave it at that for now. Jessie’s the one who really got the booby prize last night."

  "What happened?"

  "Do you remember my Uncle Tom?"

  Michael shuddered. "Yeah—he was a piece of work. I always wondered how he ended up with Josie." He shrugged. "I just assumed it was the money."

  "Congratulations—you have something in common with my mother."

  "I’m sure she’ll be pleased. She was always so fond of me. So how did good old Tommy score the beautiful Josie?"

  "Rape, beating, pregnancy—you know, the usual in our family."

  Michael’s mouth gaped open. "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, and not just because that would-be Sherlock Holmes laid it out for us. I remember. She was always covering up—sunglasses, long shirts, long skirts, pants—even when it was hot. And she was terrified of him. She never wanted to leave Jessie alone with him."

  "Good that he died then."

  "She killed him."

  "Excuse me?"

  "That was the centerpiece of last night’s little party, but...it was what my mother thought. All along. She hired someone to find it out. She never thought to ask me. And then I could have told her. She didn’t kill him for the money. She killed him to protect Jessie."

  "How do you know?"

  "Michael, if I tell you, you have to swear to me that you won’t tell a soul."

  "Richard, I’m not keeping anything else from Miranda." Richard raised his eyebrows. "But since I know you don’t think there’s a chance in Hell that she’ll ever be with me again, why don’t you just tell me anyway?"

  ~~~

  It was the end of spring in 1994. Twelve-year-old Richard was supposed to be doing his geometry, but he figured he deserved a little TV time for having to do homework when it was so nice out. He had just turned on the TV when he heard knocking at the door. He stood up. Had Olga forgotten her k
ey?

  He gasped. Josie was clutching Jessie to her, and they were both crying. Josie’s lip was bleeding, and she had a black and blue mark on her face. Jessie had big fingerprints on her upper arms and a goose-egg on the side of her forehead as if she’d fallen.

  Richard closed the door as they walked in. "It’s okay, Jessie. Everything’s okay now," Josie said as convincingly as she could as she stroked her little girl’s pretty blonde hair. She looked at Richard. "Do you think you can get us some ice?"

  Richard got an ice pack out of the freezer. Josie put it on Jessie’s head. The little girl shrieked, but kept it on after her mother kissed her.

  Richard got some water for Josie and some juice for Jessie. Josie’s hand trembled as she drank it, but she thanked him. "Josie, did Uncle Tom...?" He didn’t finish the question. Josie pressed her forehead into Jessie’s so that her reddish hair covered them both. Richard gingerly moved her hair away so he could see their faces. "Josie, we have to call the police," he said gently. "He might have really hurt you. And Jessie."

  Josie looked up and pulled Jessie’s head closer to her chest. "Richard, do you know who Tom had lunch with yesterday? The chief of police. The chief was thanking him for all his contributions to the charity last month. I don’t think they’re going to help us."

  Richard took a deep breath. "I think you two should sit down."

  Josie moved painfully to the couch. "I can’t stay long," she said as she sat down and adjusted a quieter Jessie on her lap. "I have to go before Tom finds us."

  "Where are you going?" he asked as he rubbed Jessie’s back. She cried out. Richard pulled back, afraid.

  "Oh, Richard, I’m sorry." She comforted Jessie again. "He hit her back too."

  "Josie!" Richard thought that if only he’d done his math homework that night he could have stayed in that nice, logical world. "Where are you going to go?"

  She turned to Richard and looked at him as if she were trying to decide something. She blinked away the few stubborn tears that had escaped. "I’m going to take care of this. I’m going to make it so that he can’t ever hurt Jessie again."

  "What are you going to do?"

  She shook her head. "I’m going to do what I should have done a long time ago." She heaved a small sob, putting her hand to her mouth. She looked at her daughter, and then looked at him. "Richard, I need you to do something very grown up for me, alright?"

  "What is it?"

  "I need you to watch Jessie for me. For the whole weekend. I’ll come back on Sunday night, but I need you to keep her here until then."

  Richard had already babysat Jessie a few times, but never overnight. "Josie, I don’t know how..."

  "Please, Richard," Josie said desperately. "She’s toilet-trained, and she’ll eat anything you put in front of her. And she knows how to be quiet when you tell her it’s really important." Josie smiled bitterly. "Please, please—I can’t do this if she’s not being taken care of."

  "Alright," Richard said, more nervous than reluctant. "And you’ll be back on Sunday night?"

  "I promise," Josie said, smiling with relief. Then her face grew more serious. "But there’s something else, and it’s very important."

  "What is it?"

  Josie took a deep breath. "If Tom comes, you have to hide her." She closed her eyes. "You can’t let him take her."

  "Josie, I think I should call my mother..."

  "No!" Josie shrieked. Jessie whimpered again. Josie clung to her daughter. "No, no, no—please. Don’t tell your mother." She took a moment to collect herself. "Richard, your mother doesn’t like me very much—"

  "I’ve noticed," he said quietly.

  "—and she isn’t going to believe me if I tell her what...happened." She bit her lip. "Or she isn’t going to care. Most people don’t," she whispered.

  A bruise was starting to form on Jessie’s pale little face, and she still clung to her mother. "I believe you," he said quietly.

  "Thank you," Josie said. She wiped her tears. "Then please believe me when I tell you that Tom can’t find her, and if you tell your mother, she’s going to tell him. Just for the weekend, please?"

  The logic of what she was saying was inescapable, and even then Richard was very logical. He nodded. "Okay."

  "Thank you," Josie whispered. She kissed Jessie. "Sweetie, Mommy has to go right now, okay?"

  "No, Mommy, don’t leave me!" Jessie cried, holding onto her mother’s neck.

  "Baby, I’m going to be back, okay? I promise. But I just have to go right now for a little while. Richard’s going to take care of you, okay? And you like Richard, right?"

  Jessie turned to Richard. She blinked her pretty grey eyes at him, and nodded.

  Richard held out his hands, and then Jessie crawled over to him. She rested her head on his chest. Richard stroked her hair, careful not to touch her back. She sobbed a little. "Hey, don’t cry. You know what? I think we can have some ice cream later after Mommy leaves, how does that sound?"

  "Strawberry?"

  "Strawberry."

  "Okay," she said. "But I want to watch TV first."

  Josie smiled, and looked seriously at Richard again. "Thank you so much," she said as she stood up. "Jessie, sweetie. One more thing. You have to do everything Richard says, okay? I mean it—no ice cream unless you listen to him."

  "Okay, Mommy."

  Josie kissed her one last time, smiled at Richard and ran out.

  Good as his word, Richard brought Jessie into the kitchen and dished out some ice cream for the both of them. They had just started digging in when there was a knock at the door. A knock Richard recognized all too clearly. He picked up Josie in one arm and the ice cream in another. "I think you’re going to eat this upstairs." He quietly, quickly went up the backstairs in the kitchen and opened one of the spare bedrooms. He heard the knocking again. "Jessie, listen to me. You stay in here and eat your ice cream. And you be very, very quiet, no matter what. And if you do that, I’ll give you some more, okay?" Jessie nodded obediently, then Richard closed the door. He locked it, putting the key on a bookshelf at the other end of the hall.

  He ran down the stairs, and took a deep breath before he opened the door for his uncle.

  Tom was tall, thin and blonde like his sister Lucy. But instead of Lucy’s icy exterior, Tom faced the world with something that could only be described as a contemptuous leer. He looked at his nephew, now just about his height, in the eye. He took note of his unusually disheveled appearance. "Where is my wife?"

  Richard had to restrain himself from asking if he even cared about his daughter. It didn’t matter—he already knew the answer. "She’s not here," Richard said honestly. "I don’t know where she is."

  Tom pushed past Richard. "Where’s your mother?"

  "Your guess is as good as mine."

  "Watch your mouth," Tom said threateningly.

  "Sorry, sir," Richard said. "I have no idea where my mother is tonight."

  "Don’t you still have a baby-sitter?" Tom asked scornfully.

  "She stepped out to get some groceries." Great. How was he going to hide Jessie from her all weekend? "She should be back any minute now."

  "So she’d tell me that she hadn’t seen Josie either, I’m sure?"

  "I’m pretty sure she hasn’t, but you’ll have to ask her when she comes back."

  "Maybe I will." Without asking, he walked into the kitchen. He looked at the table. "So, Richard, did I interrupt something?"

  Richard stood tall. "What do you mean?"

  "The ice cream, the shirt. Do you have company?"

  "Yes," Richard said, just as honestly as before.

  Tom turned around and smiled. "Really? Well, I’d like to meet the young lady if you don’t mind."

  "Actually, I do."

  Tom pushed Richard. He caught himself before he could fall. "Is your company my wife?"

  "You’re out of your mind," Richard said calmly. He knew his uncle could easily overpower him, but he was doing a quick calculation of eve
rything he could use in the room if he needed to. "She’s not here."

  Tom grabbed Richard’s shirt collar. "Then where is she?"

  "I don’t know."

  "I think you do, you little twerp." Tom pulled tighter, and Richard felt like he couldn’t breathe.

  The phone rang. "You’d better let me get that," Richard managed. "It might be my mother." The phone rang again before Tom released his nephew. Richard massaged his neck, then picked up the phone. "Hello?"

  "Richard, it’s me," Josie said. She sounded less teary. "Is he there?"

  "Yes," Richard said calmly.

  "Are you alright? Is Jessie alright?" The panic began to return to her voice.

  "Just fine. I was just sitting down to a bowl of ice cream."

  "Okay. Let me talk to him."

  Richard held out the receiver. "I think it’s for you."

  Tom grabbed the phone. "Josie! Where the Hell are you?" Silence for a moment. "What are you doing there?" Pause. "Are you serious?" He nodded and smiled. "That’s more like it. Fine, I’ll be over in a few hours." He hung up. "I guess you were right. She wasn’t here."

  "Where is she then?" Richard tried to hide how much he wanted to know.

  "A little romantic getaway." Tom smiled. "Finally coming around."

  "Good to hear."

  "Richard," Tom said mockingly. "I know you’ve always had a little crush on her, but it’s time to be a big boy. She’s my wife."

  "She must really love Jessie."

  Tom sneered. "Whatever it takes."

  Something fell upstairs. Tom looked up, then smiled at Richard. "What do you know? You have company after all. Better get back up there before you lose your nerve. But here’s some advice from your Uncle Tommy; make sure she does what she has to do, even if she needs to close her eyes while she does it."

  "Is that what Josie does?"

  Tom smiled and leaned in. "Not anymore." He stood up. "Do tell your mother I said hello."

  As soon as the door slammed, Richard raced upstairs. He got the key and unlocked the door. Jessie was sitting next to the broken bowl, trying to clean up the pieces. Her hands were cut up. "Oh, Jessie!" Richard hugged her. He took her into the bathroom, washed her hands and put a bandage on her, then cleaned up the broken bowl and melted ice cream.

  He looked at the time. The babysitter should be back very soon. He’d already started to come up with a plan. "Jessie, this is what we’re going to do. I’m going to give you a tee-shirt, and then I want you to change into it and go to sleep. It’s sort of late. But you have to promise me that you won’t leave your room until tomorrow morning when I come and get you, okay?" Jessie nodded. Richard patted her head. "You’re a good girl, Jess." He got an old-tee shirt of his, then gave it to her to change into. He gasped when he saw the black and blue marks on her back.