The Friendship Doll

by Kirby Larson

  “That’s much more appropriate.” Aunt Eunice stirred sugar into her tea.

  Lois nearly inhaled her lemonade. Every moment they sat meant some sight went unseen.

  Aunt Eunice sipped her tea as if she were a hummingbird. Talk. Sip. Talk talk. Sip.

  Lois thought she might explode by the time the teacup was finally empty and the bill paid. She leaped up. “This way, Auntie.” Like a dog straining at a leash, she surged ahead of her great-aunt, until Aunt Eunice’s command to slow down would tug her back. Then ahead she’d go until she heard “Slow down” again.

  They walked north, skirting the enormous General Exhibits Building. Up ahead loomed the twin towers of the Sky Ride. Lois’ skin prickled. “I read that they’re over six hundred feet high,” she said, pointing upward. “Taller than any building in Chicago.”

  “And taller than anything needs to be,” said Aunt Eunice. She ushered Lois under the formidable carved archway of the Chinese temple. Inside they were bombarded with color—reds and turquoises and golds—and intricate patterns everywhere, on the walls, in the rugs on the floor, even in the temple ceilings. Lois felt as if she’d tumbled into a kaleidoscope.

  Aunt Eunice paused to buy a packet of postcards. “This will be just the thing to show my sewing circle next month.” She looked over at Lois. “I’m sure that quarter’s burning a hole in your pocket”—Aunt Eunice smiled—“or rather in your hanky. But it shows maturity not to spend it on the first geegaw you see.” Aunt Eunice nodded her approval and Lois tried not to let her mouth fly open at this unexpected compliment. “Shall we move on?”

  As they left the Temple of Jehol—a bit bleary-eyed from all the decorations—Lois banged one of the big brass gongs. Mabel would have loved it, too. So Lois banged it once for her.

  Outside the temple walls, they bumped into one of Aunt Eunice’s acquaintances.

  “Myra! How are you, my dear?” Aunt Eunice offered her cheek to the other lady and then introduced Lois.

  “Quite the exposition, isn’t it?” Myra placed her hand on Aunt Eunice’s arm. “You’ll never believe what I just rode in!”

  “A gondola?” asked Aunt Eunice.

  “The dragon ride?” Lois guessed.

  Myra shook her head, laughed and pointed up. “The Sky Ride. Me! Can you imagine?”

  Lois’ admiration for the skinny old lady in front of her grew tenfold. If she’d gone on it, perhaps—

  “Is it even safe?” Aunt Eunice pulled her pocketbook closer. “Those cables don’t look sturdy enough to hold one of those contraptions they call rocket cars, let alone a dozen of them.”

  “Oh, but you must go!” Myra pointed to Lois. “It will give your niece here a memory she will never forget.”

  Aunt Eunice looked horrified. “More likely a fright she’ll never forget!”

  “But they’re perfectly secure, Aunt Eunice!” The words slipped out before Lois could stop them. Well, in for a dime, in for a dollar. “I read that they’re as safe as trolley cars. Maybe even safer.”

  Aunt Eunice’s eyebrows were spider legs of alarm above her gray eyes. “That may be true, but nothing”—she said this with a stern glance at Myra—“will convince me to ride such an unhealthy distance above the ground.”

  Myra laughed again. “Oh, Eunice, I remember when you were always the first one up for a new experience. You were such a daredevil.”

  Lois stared at her great-aunt. Daredevil?

  Aunt Eunice fussed with her hat. “Well, I was younger then,” she said, looking quite flustered.

  “Adventure is like the fountain of youth,” Myra teased.

  Aunt Eunice shook her head. But a smile fought to overtake her pursed lips. “You always were a caution, Myra.” Aunt Eunice straightened her shoulders. “I’ll see you next month at the library board meeting.”

  “Enjoy yourselves!” Myra called after them.

  “Fountain of youth!” Aunt Eunice muttered as they walked along.

  Lois’ spirits fluttered around wildly, like a butterfly caught in a net. Thanks to Myra, maybe Aunt Eunice would let her go on the Sky Ride after all. She squeezed the quarter even tighter. Maybe!

  “That’s the Hall of Science there, isn’t it?” Aunt Eunice indicated the building with her chin. “That would certainly be educational. Shall we go?”

  Lois was fascinated by The Growing Twig, an exhibit that showed, through some fancy photography, a linden growing from sapling to tree in the space of a few minutes. And she’d thought the “Chemistry of Digestion” display would be disgusting, but once she stepped inside the Robot Theater and heard the ten-foot-tall mechanical man explain certain processes of digestion while a movie of those processes played on a special screen in his shirt, she found it so interesting she stayed to listen twice. Once for her and once for Mabel. Aunt Eunice was taken with the Scholl Manufacturing Company exhibit, where she received advice about her bunions from a man in a white coat who said he had been trained under the personal supervision of Dr. William M. Scholl, noted foot authority, himself. Aunt Eunice even unlaced her oxfords for a foot massage. Lois thought they’d never get away from there.

  “That was just the thing,” Aunt Eunice said, retying her shoes. “I’m ready to move on again.”

  While her great-aunt had enjoyed the attention of the man in the white coat, Lois had been plotting how to ask about the Sky Ride. She decided that it had to seem like Aunt Eunice’s idea. “Your friend Myra was awfully nice,” she began.

  “Oh, speaking of friends”—Aunt Eunice pulled a piece of stationery from her pocketbook—“I nearly forgot.” She scanned the letter in her hand. “Yes. That was it. My dear friend Mrs. Maxwell Wheeler wrote to tell me about an exhibit we simply must see. ‘Dolls from Around the World.’ Doesn’t that sound nice?”

  A doll exhibit definitely did not sound nice. Lois forced a smile. Perhaps they wouldn’t have to stay too long.

  “It isn’t included in the admission price,” Aunt Eunice continued. “But a portion of the ticket monies goes to support the charity projects of Everyland Magazine.” She folded the letter back up and put it away. “Do you think we could find the Special Exhibits Hall?”

  Lois knew exactly which way to go. Their route took them directly below the Sky Ride. The towers seemed like two long arms, beckoning Lois to partake of atmospheric wonders beyond imagination. As she gazed up at the tantalizing towers, into the bright sun, she found herself blinking back tears.

  Aunt Eunice made a big show of handing two dimes to the thin young man at the entrance to “Dolls from Around the World.” “Follow the red walkway and you won’t miss a thing,” he told them. “Enjoy yourselves!”

  Inside the door, Aunt Eunice paused. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “About what Myra said. A little adventure is good for the soul.” She put her hand on Lois’ arm. “Your father gave you that quarter to spend as you see fit. Though I choose to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground, when we are through here, you may ride on that Sky Ride.”

  Lois gave a little squeal, and threw her arms around her great-aunt’s waist. “Oh, thank you, Aunt Eunice. Thank you!”

  Aunt Eunice patted Lois briskly on the back. “Mind you, you’ll have to buy your own ticket,” she added.

  “Of course. Yes! You’ve given me so much already!” Lois couldn’t feel the floor under her feet. She was certain she was floating. The Sky Ride! If only Aunt Eunice had made her decision before paying the admission to the doll exhibit. Then Lois would’ve asked if they could head straight there. But her great-aunt would not waste the twenty cents she’d just spent. Lois crossed her fingers that it wouldn’t take too long to look at the dolls.

  They found the red pathway that would lead them in a spiral through the exhibit. Lois marched along, hoping to encourage Aunt Eunice to pick up her pace. But no. Her great-aunt meandered past rag dolls and stuffed animals and dolls from Germany, France, and Italy. After what seemed like hours, she pulled a fan from her pocketbook. “My lands,” she sai
d. “It’s warm in here.” She spied a bench. “You may finish taking the tour. I’ll rest a bit. Shall we meet back here in thirty minutes?”

  “Oh, we can go now if you’re ready,” Lois offered helpfully. Hopefully.

  “No, no. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on this opportunity.”

  “Really, I don’t mind—”

  Aunt Eunice dismissed Lois with her fan. “You can give me a report on what I missed.”

  “Okay,” Lois said. Then she caught the look on Aunt Eunice’s face. “I mean, yes, ma’am.”

  Aunt Eunice settled onto the bench with an oof. “Go along. Have fun.”

  Thirty minutes! Pure torture. How would she survive a whole half hour before her dream came true? Lois sighed, but trudged forward. If Amelia could suffer through horrible headaches every time she flew, Lois could manage a thirty-minute wait to ride in a rocket car.

  She made a halfhearted effort to look at the dolls she passed, but she did stop in front of a Victorian dollhouse, furnished with the most amazing miniatures. There was even an egg no bigger than a candy sprinkle frying in a teeny skillet on a midget cookstove. Mabel would have gone crackers over the dollhouse. She was crazy about such things. That was why her father always brought her miniatures from his business trips: a tiny iron when he traveled to Pittsburgh. An orange tree no bigger than a thimble from Florida. A fairy-sized carved horse from New York. Her whole collection fit in a Lipton tea tin.

  Lois noticed a sign near the dollhouse: “Take Home Replicas. Visit Our Gift Shop!”

  She turned away quickly, following the path down another hall, completely lost in thought. She passed dolls made of paper and papier-mâché. The more she walked, the more she was certain that Mabel would want her to use the quarter for the Sky Ride. Think of the thrilling stories she could tell her! They would last longer than any silly souvenir. That was definitely the thing to do.

  Her step and heart lighter, Lois found herself in the innermost room of the warrenlike exhibition hall. The other rooms had been chockablock with dolls of every sort and type. But this final, small chamber held only one doll. And Lois was its only visitor. She stepped closer to read the placard next to the doll. “Miss Kanagawa.” All the way from Japan! Jeepers! This Miss Kanagawa doll was one of the prettiest in the exhibit. Its silky hair was the color of the strands of jet Aunt Eunice wore around her neck.

  Miss Kanagawa had fifty-seven sisters, according to the placard, all of them “Ambassador Dolls” sent in hopes of improving Japanese and U.S. relations. Lois wondered how they could do that when they couldn’t even talk, except maybe to say “Mama.”

  Oh, the impertinent little imp. One of the prettiest dolls, she thinks! And questioning my ability to be an ambassador, to boot.

  But I must remember that she is only a child, after all. Lacking my wisdom. My understanding of the world. She does not yet realize the importance of helping others, as I do.

  Even if the others are ill-mannered and poorly dressed.

  Around the doll’s feet on the display stand were marvelous miniatures—a small teapot, a dainty parasol, a folded screen painted with a mountain scene. Mabel would’ve loved these. Lois stepped closer to get a better look. From here, she could see that Miss Kanagawa’s eyes were dark, like hers, but shaped like the almonds Mom ground to make her special tea cookies. When she used to make them, that is.

  The eyes looked so real, Lois had the sense that the doll was looking back at her. Lois blinked. Twice. But that feeling was still there.

  “You’re giving me the willies,” she said. Even when she used to play with dolls, way back when, she never actually talked to them. There was a clock on the wall behind the doll’s case. “It’s been twenty minutes,” Lois said. “That should be enough time to spend with these dumb old dolls.”

  As soon as the words left her lips, she felt a pain. She rubbed at it. Maybe the lemonade had been too sour. But the discomfort wasn’t in her stomach. It was higher up, behind her sternum, and it felt like someone was poking her with something—like that doll’s parasol or something. Whatever it was, it didn’t feel good.

  I don’t understand why so many of these American children gnaw their fingernails like mice gnaw rice kernels. It is most perplexing. And most unbecoming. I could overlook that, I suppose. And her shabby dress. But her manners! I simply can’t abide it when someone thinks herself better than others. “Dumb old dolls” indeed. Does she think we are less important because we are not human? Master Tatsuhiko himself created me. Humph. I have half a mind to let her carry out her selfish decision.

  But how much more satisfying it will be if this “dumb” doll teaches this child a lesson!

  All in the name of friendship and goodwill, of course.

  Lois leaned her head against the doll’s display case. Once, when she had nearly fainted at Cousin Catherine’s wedding, Mom had told her to take long, even, deep breaths. Maybe that would help now. She tried.

  It didn’t.

  She looked up and found herself eye to eye with the doll. It was as if those eyes were movie screens, shimmering with images that slowly flickered into focus. Lois couldn’t tear her gaze away.

  She was looking back at the first day of grade school. She’d forgotten her lunch. And there was Mabel saying, “I’ve got egg salad. Would you like half?” The scene shifted forward in time to show Mabel, cross-legged, doing some kind of hand sewing. She was making a sash, for Lois, who’d been voted Queen of the May for the third-grade pageant. Mabel stitched on felt letters that spelled out “Queen Lois.” The scene changed again and now Lois saw her as she was a few days ago, flopped on her stomach on the bed, poring over the fair pamphlet. She heard Mabel say, “Now, it looks like if you go left instead of right at the end of the Avenue of Flags, you’ll be closer to the entrance to the Social Science Hall.”

  Lois rubbed her eyes. What was happening? She shook herself, hard, to clear her head. Her handkerchief flew out of her hand and landed with a soft whup on the floor. She bent to pick it up.

  A good friend gives our heart wings.

  Lois stood up so fast her head was spinning like an airplane propeller. “Who’s there?” she asked, peering into the dark edges of the room.

  No one answered.

  Time to get out of there. Back to Aunt Eunice. Some fresh air would do them both good. They’d been in this place long enough. She’d done what Aunt Eunice had wanted all day. It was her turn now. The Sky Ride was calling her. Lois reached again for the hanky, still on the floor. “Ouch!” Another poke in the chest. This one was hard enough to make her need to sit down. She pulled her knees in, wrapping her dress around her legs.

  One more scene rolled like a player piano scroll through Lois’ mind: Mabel, this morning, come to send Lois off. Her elbows poked through her thin sweater, and she was barefoot to save wear and tear on her shoes. She’d gotten up early to make cinnamon doughnuts for Lois’ train ride.

  Lois looked over at the doll. It stood there, the same hint of a smile on its red lips. Its arms still rested gracefully at its sides. It didn’t appear to have moved at all. Of course, it couldn’t move at all. It was only a doll. And yet something had happened here in this room.

  “I guess you aren’t so dumb after all,” Lois said.

  The doll said nothing—of course—but its eyes gazed knowingly at her.

  Lois rested her chin on her knees, looking back at Miss Kanagawa. Ambassador of Friendship.

  Friendship.

  Lois chewed on a fingernail. Then another. That ride would last, what, five minutes? A good friend would last a lifetime.

  With a long exhale, Lois reached for the handkerchief, still on the floor, and picked it up. The flash of yellow was a vibrant reminder of her dreams.

  Canary yellow. Amelia’s Canary. Amelia, who worked at odd jobs to earn enough money for flying lessons, holding on to her dream all the while.

  Lois hefted the cloth-wrapped coin. Slowly, carefully, she picked at the fabric to untie the knot. S
oon the quarter rested in her palm.

  She set it, warm and solid, on the floor. Then she ran her hands over the Canary printed on each corner of the handkerchief. A smile flitted across her lips. She thought Amelia would approve.

  Lois folded her precious souvenir handkerchief into fourths and tucked it into the doll’s obi as a small token of thanks.

  It was after midnight when she and Aunt Eunice arrived home, tired, bedraggled but elated, from the fair. Mabel’s bedroom light was still on, so Lois ran right over. The smile on Mabel’s face when she opened that carved wooden apple to find the miniature tea set tucked inside gave Lois’ heart such wings that it soared—at least six hundred feet high.

  MISS KANAGAWA

  It is a blessing that none of my sisters can see me now, with this wrinkled handkerchief in my obi. What would they think? It is distressing to appear so; most unbecoming for an ambassador.

  And yet it is my duty to be accepting of these odd American customs. She is a child, after all. I am sure she meant well, even if her token of appreciation has marred my appearance. And by the lightness of her step I surmise she has made a wise decision. With no small help from me, of course. I think I am beginning to understand Master Tatsuhiko’s teaching that good and bad can be intertwined with one another.

  Oh dear. That peculiar feeling is back again. Above the spot where that handkerchief rests, on my left side. Humph.

  It is not painful, as it was before. In fact, the sensation puts me in mind of a taiko drummer, striking the drumheads with the bachi sticks in a peaceful rhythm. Yes, if I think of it as a drumbeat, the feeling is not so bad. Not so bad at all.

  September 1937

  CURTAIN BROTHERS AUCTIONS

  KANSAS CITY, MISSOURI

  INVOICE

  Date: September 6, 1937

  Sold to: Mrs. Arthur Weldon Clearbrook, Kentucky

  Items sold:

  One fossil (megalodon tooth)