by MJ Howson
“Oh, I’m sorry. I . . . I understand you don’t have any children. Can I ask why?”
Flo turned and looked at her husband. He wasn’t paying attention. She pulled Luna close to her chest and said, “The doctor will see you now.”
Dawn entered and closed the door behind her. She said, “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Dawn.” Dr. Cole grabbed a blank cassette and quickly labeled the tape–Easton-D 9/13/19 #8. He then fumbled to get it loaded into the old Panasonic recorder. As Dawn got closer, he asked, “Are you still okay with our current seating arrangement?”
“Yes. If that’s okay.”
“Of course. You let me know if you ever want to change things up.”
“Thanks.” Dawn tossed her full-length cream coat on a nearby chair and then took her usual seat across from Dr. Cole’s desk.
“How are you today?” Dr. Cole asked.
“I’m great.”
Dr. Cole snapped the lid to the recorder closed and looked at Dawn. She was wearing her usual lack of color–a white blouse with a black pencil skirt. Her crystal blue eyes popped against her pale skin. A ruby-encrusted brooch pinned to her chest caught his eye.
“That’s a lovely piece of jewelry.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m going to record our session again if that’s okay.”
“Sure.”
Dr. Cole hit the record button and then said, “This is session number eight with Dawn Easton. Today’s date is Friday, September thirteenth, twenty nineteen.” He settled back in his chair and began flipping through his notes, adjusting his glasses as he reviewed the information from their last session. Dr. Cole looked up again at Dawn and was struck by how confident she appeared. Most of the time, she’d be slumped in the chair with her head hanging low. Now, she had what he could only describe as perfect posture, as well as a smile across her face.
“How was your week?” Dr. Cole asked.
“It’s . . . it’s been amazing. Truly.”
“I’m happy to hear that. I must confess, you seem to be the most upbeat I’ve ever seen you.”
“Thanks.” Dawn looked around the office, her gaze lingering now and then on the dust-covered cluttered shelves and furniture. She smiled and said, “I had my doubts about you. When I first started.”
“I remember. I told you trust takes time. So, what’s going on that’s got you so radiant?”
“I followed your advice.” Dawn paused and then started to laugh. “I literally followed it.”
Dr. Cole frowned and adjusted his glasses. He flipped back through last week’s session. “What . . . what recommendation was that? Picking three memories of your mother from your childhood?”
“No. The cat.”
“Cat?”
“Remember you told me to get a pet. Something to comfort me.”
“Oh.” Dr. Cole briefly closed his eyes, nodded, and smiled. “I’m surprised you did.”
“I didn’t.” Dawn leaned forward and held her hands out in front of her as she got ready to describe the setting. “Okay, so I’m walking down the High Line, and this cat comes up to me. I immediately think of you. The cat ran off, and then I walked to the Village. Another cat comes up to me. I’m thinking, this can’t be a coincidence, right? So, I follow it, and it leads me to this store.”
“Okay.” Dr. Cole appreciated the enthusiasm coming from Dawn but was completely lost as to where her story was headed.
“The cat ran inside, and I followed it.” Dawn sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. “And that’s when I met Eve.”
“Eve?” Dr. Cole stroked his stubbly beard. “The cat was named Eve?”
“Not a cat. A doll.”
Dr. Cole didn’t respond. He scanned through his notes and tapped his finger against the paper in front of him. “Eve was the name you’d picked for your unborn daughter.”
“Yes. It was also my mother’s name. Sort of.”
“And this . . . this doll that you found, did you–”
“I bought her! We bonded immediately.”
“I see.” Dr. Cole smiled at Dawn’s obvious joy. “Now, Dawn, why did you name the doll the same name you planned–”
“Oh, I didn’t. You sound like Jacob. That was the doll’s name. It was fate.” Dawn waited for Dr. Cole to say something. He sat there, just watching her. After several seconds of silence, she continued. “I keep her in the nursery. She keeps me company while I’m cooking or even just relaxing reading the news. She’s . . . she’s taken away my loneliness.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. You do seem much happier.”
“I know it’s barely been a week, but this proves I’m meant to be a mother. Not just any mother. A great mother.”
“Slow down, Dawn.” Dr. Cole pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. “A doll isn’t the same as having a baby. Neither is a cat, for that matter. Although–”
“I know I’d make a good mother, Dr. Cole.”
“I’m not saying you wouldn’t.” Dr. Cole clasped his hands together and leaned forward. He could see the happiness and excitement fading from Dawn’s eyes and wanted to be delicate with the situation. “Why did you come to see me?”
“Because Jacob told me to.” Dawn folded her arms, taking on a defensive position. She turned her head and glared out the window. She sighed and said, “And to get better.”
“Dawn, your fifth miscarriage sent you into a severe depression.” Dr. Cole waited for Dawn to look at him, but she sat there tense and angry, staring at the window. “Did it not?”
“It did.” Dawn bit her upper lip and looked at the doctor. “But Eve’s become so special to me.”
“I’m not trying to diminish the impact the doll’s had on you. In fact, there are many helpful programs where an expectant mother can use a special doll to prepare for the real thing. But your focus, Dawn, is on recovery. What . . . what if there’s a sixth miscarriage? Or a seventh?”
“Don’t say that!” Dawn flung her hands to her face and began to cry.
Dr. Cole gently pushed a box of tissues to the edge of his desk. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
As Dawn collected some tissues and dried her tears, Dr. Cole went back to reviewing his notes. Suddenly, a phone in his drawer began to vibrate, setting up a resonance in the wooden Trust plaque on his desk. He looked up at Dawn to see her staring at him. He frowned and said, “My apologies.” Dr. Cole opened the drawer to see a stream of notifications on his red phone. He closed the drawer and sighed.
“Let’s . . . let’s dial things back a bit, okay?” Dr. Cole asked.
Dawn looked up, her cheeks finally dry, and said, “Sure.”
“When your last session ended, I asked you to think back to some happy childhood memories,” Dr. Cole said. “Special times with your mother. Did you come up with three or four, like I asked?”
“No. I’m sorry. I got Eve the next day. She’s been my focus.”
“Okay. I understand. We can do that next time.” Dr. Cole smiled, doing his best to hide his disappointment. Dawn’s continued avoidance of her mother frustrated him, but he remained calm. “I’d like you to tell me what life was like after your dad died.”
“After?” Dawn sighed and stared at the ball of tissues in her hand. “Well, I . . . I don’t know. I was twenty-two but still living at home. My mom she just . . . just continued to work. Her work was her life.”
“His accident didn’t bring you two closer?”
“Closer?” Dawn nervously twisted the damp tissues into a rope-like structure. “No. No. If . . . if anything, she became more distant. I mean, she was now in charge of the company. She replaced my dad as CEO. I mean, it was always sort of her company.”
“How did you and your mother deal with his death? What did he mean to you?”
“Why do you care about my dad?” Dawn wiped her eyes again. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“I’m just trying to draw a line through your childhood and into your early adult life
. We all react differently to the loss of a parent.”
“I . . . I suppose.” Dawn wiped her nose and smiled. “But, I’m doing so much better now that I have Eve.”
Dr. Cole smiled and nodded. He knew it was best not to force a patient to talk about something they weren’t ready to discuss. Letting the topics develop organically was always preferable. Given Dawn’s reaction to his question about additional miscarriages, it was obvious to him there was still a lot of work to be done.
“Tell me about Eve,” Dr. Cole said. “You said you have her in a nursery?”
“Yes.” Dawn’s normally pale face suddenly ignited in joy. “I’d set it up for, well, for my baby, after getting pregnant. I really do love having her in there. I know she’s just a doll. I do. But it’s like I’ve got this purpose now. That’s good, isn’t it?”
“It is. As I said earlier, you seem much happier. Tell me, how are you sleeping?”
“Fine.”
“What about your dreams? The nightmares?”
“Oh, those.” Dawn lowered her head and looked away.
“It’s okay if you still have them. It takes time to–”
“I don’t hear my child anymore.” Dawn began to tug and shred her tissues. “I used to be chasing her down this hallway. She was always just out of reach. The spitting image of me at that age, running away. That . . . that dream’s gone now.”
“That’s wonderful, Dawn.” Dr. Cole made a note of this on his notepad. “Are there other bad dreams?”
“Bad dreams?” Dawn bit her upper lip and grabbed the pendant hanging around her neck.
“What is it?”
“I . . . I do wonder about her.” Dawn stared blankly at Dr. Cole. “Eve.”
Dr. Cole scratched his beard and adjusted his glasses. “What do you mean?”
“The store owner told me everything in the store had a story to tell. She’s grown on me so quickly. I just wonder what’s . . . what’s Eve’s story?”
Sixteen
The Diary
Dawn’s umbrella rumbled from the heavy downpour rolling through the West Village. She’d spent the morning staring out her apartment windows, watching the ominous clouds gathering in the sky. Ultimately, the foul weather didn’t deter her from venturing south. She had to learn Eve’s story.
The cool September wind rippled across Dawn’s black cotton trench coat. The entrance to Zuni seemed dark and foreboding, much like the overhead clouds. The sign above the door swung freely in the wind, the chain links rattling softly. Leo, the white cat that led her here last week, was sitting on a table behind the window staring at her. The sign in the front door read Open. Seeing the store, not to mention the cat, made her feel uneasy. She shook it off, walked down the stairs, closed her umbrella, and stepped inside.
Dawn looked around the shop as she twirled her umbrella and secured the loose flaps. The cat remained near the window, giving her a look of boredom. Dawn glanced toward the far end of the corner where Eve once sat. She half expected to see a new doll sitting on the countertop. Instead, the space was empty.
“Hello?” Dawn called out. “Janet?”
The swinging doors flipped open, and Janet entered, smiling. She had on the same dreary long-sleeved gray smock she’d worn last weekend, her glasses propped atop her head.
“Back so soon?” Janet said. “Dawn, right?”
Dawn nodded as she nervously looked around the store.
Janet looked Dawn up and down and furrowed her brow. She asked, “Is . . . is it Eve? Is she okay?”
“Yes, she’s . . . she’s wonderful.” Dawn leaned her umbrella against the doorframe and walked over to the counter. “She brings me joy. She really does.”
Janet covered her smile and took a deep breath. “That’s wonderful. I knew she picked you for a reason.” Her smile faded the longer she stared at Dawn. “So, why the long face?”
“I’m just wondering about, well, Eve.” Dawn lowered her head and began inspecting the collection of jewelry in the display case. “You said everything in this store had a story.”
Janet nodded and followed Dawn as she slowly made her way along the long counter, gently tapping a fingernail against the glass top. Janet asked, “Has . . . has something happened?”
Dawn stopped just as she got to the spot where Eve once sat. She could still see the dust outlining where the doll once rested. Dawn began to drag her finger across the dust, slowly clearing it away.
“Remember how I told you about my miscarriage?” Dawn asked.
“Of course.” Janet put a comforting hand on Dawn’s. “Losing a child is terrible.”
“Well, ever since the loss, I’ve been having these horrible dreams. It’s like I’m chasing after my child.” Dawn briefly closed her eyes as she tried to clear the image from her mind. “Anyway, when I brought Eve home, I thought my nightmares would end.”
“And?”
“They did end. Sort of.” Dawn began to pace back and forth beside the display cabinet, nervously twirling her sapphire pendant. The cat remained by the window, somewhat mesmerized by her pacing. “The dreams have changed. The girl in the dream, she, well, she’s a bit older and has red hair now.”
“Red hair? Like . . . Eve?”
“Yes.” Dawn stopped and clasped her hands together. “Exactly like hers. What’s the story with Eve? You told me it was a long one. Well, I’m here now. I’d . . . I’d really like to know.”
“Stay right here.”
Janet disappeared behind the swinging doors. The rain outside began to come down harder, roaring as it pounded against the stairs and sidewalk. A crack of lightning was soon followed by a clap of thunder that rattled the building. The boom startled Leo, sending the cat scurrying into the back room.
Dawn leaned against the counter and tried to see where the cat went. The swinging doors were barely three feet tall and positioned in the middle of the doorway, allowing her to see small sections of the storage room. All she could make out were shelves packed with boxes. Another rumble from outside made the lights flicker briefly.
Janet appeared behind the door, smiling. The hinges squeaked as she pushed her way through and back to the front of the store. In her hand was a five-by-seven camel-colored leather-bound book. She placed it on the counter in front of Dawn.
The edges were stitched, and the corners frayed. The soft leather was worn and distorted. Tiny black patches that looked like burn marks were smeared across the front cover.
Dawn stared at the thin book with curiosity. She asked, “What is it?”
“It was Eve’s.” Janet slid the book closer to Dawn.
Dawn cautiously picked it up and opened the book. Although the binder was half an inch thick, many of the pages were missing, obviously ripped away. She was surprised to see each page was handwritten. The creamy paper had a heft to it, and the deckled edges made it easy to flip through the contents.
“This looks like a diary,” Dawn said. She looked at Janet as she closed the book and placed it onto the countertop. “Eve’s diary?”
Janet nodded, lowered her glasses, and gently spun the book so that it faced her. She stared at the diary longingly and said, “It’s incomplete.” Janet opened the book and flipped through the contents, running her fingers across the wording inside. “If you want to know Eve, then read this.”
“Is . . . is it about the doll? Or . . . or a girl named Eve? I’m not sure I understand.”
Janet pushed the diary closer to Dawn. “Just read it.”
Dawn picked the book up and studied the front and back. Other than the wear and tear, there were no markings. She liked how soft the leather felt in her hands. “How much?”
“There’s no charge. Come back when you’re done.”
“Oh, okay.” Dawn smiled as she ran her fingers across the diary. “Are you sure?”
“Eve chose you. She’d want you to have it.”
Dawn slid the book into her front pocket. She grabbed her umbrella and opened the front door. The ra
in had stopped. Rays of sunlight were bursting through the nearby trees. Dawn looked back at Janet and nodded before stepping outside.
The walk back to Gansevoort Street gave Dawn too much time to think about the diary thumping against her thigh. She kept one hand in her pocket, holding the book as she walked. She wondered if the book was about Eve, why hadn’t Janet given it to her earlier? And did someone named Eve write about her life? And if so, what role did the doll play?
These questions continued to spin in Dawn’s head as she made her way north along the High Line. The rain from earlier caused the cool, damp air to weigh heavily on her. The elevated walkway was quiet, the stormy weather causing most people to seek shelter. By the time Dawn reached the bleachers at 10th Avenue, she couldn’t take the suspense that was filling her. She stopped and leaned back against the railing. Dawn pulled the diary from her pocket and opened it to the first page, dated February 12, 2012.
∞∞∞
Dawn left her damp umbrella in the foyer outside her apartment door. Once inside, she made herself a cup of herbal tea. The thundery weather had returned just prior to her arrival at the Spire. Lightning bolts could be seen dancing across the New Jersey skyline, seemingly igniting the Hudson River. The dark skies made noontime feel as if it were closer to dusk.
With her mug of tea in one hand and the diary tucked beneath her arm, Dawn made her way up the spiral staircase to the second floor. The curtains in the nursery were open, and the lights were off. Flashes of lightning reflected against the furniture. The recently replenished lavender-scented gel beads filled the air with a floral scent. Dawn smiled as she walked past the cradle and over to the dresser. She flicked on the projector nightlight and selected the white and red combination nebula display.
“Look what I have,” Dawn whispered as she leaned into the crib. Eve, wrapped deep inside the white cotton blanket, looked peaceful with its eyes closed. The doll’s porcelain face seemed to glow, highlighted by the dusty cheeks, red eyebrows, and pink lips. “It’s your diary.”
Dawn placed her tea and the book on the small table beside the rocking chair. She returned to the crib and rolled the blanket back from the doll. She gently brought Eve back to the rocking chair and sat down. Eve’s eyes clicked open.