"Do you want bubbles, Sissy?" Tommy asked.
She jumped twice, arms flapping in front of her and then she stopped. She looked up at him.
"YES!" she shrieked, then pulled at her clothes.
The cookie clumped on her face and mashed between her fingers made Sissy look ugly, Tommy thought.
Dirty and ugly.
"Shut-up, Sissy," he said to her, as he bent over the tub, pouring shampoo into the warm water. And Sissy jumped some more, behind him.
Sissy hated soap, so Tommy was very wet, as he sat down on the toilet lid, to wait while she played in the water, for awhile. The cuffs of his shirt were sopping and his wrists were itchy.
He thought about rocket ships. He stared at the ceiling.
Sissy was dressed for bed and they were standing in the bedroom, but now they could not find Lydia.
And now Sissy was crying; loudly.
Her fists were in a ball and her feet looked as though nailed to the floor.
She was screaming and red in the face.
Tommy ran out of the room and did not stop until he was in front of the coffee table, in the living room. His heart was racing.
Tommy looked at the ceiling, again. He screamed.
"FUCK!"
Then he took a deep breath. His heart slowed.
And when he looked down towards the floor, he saw Lydia's wool hair poking out from under the couch. He clentched the hair tight in his fist, when he picked her up.
But he did not throw the doll.
Sissy went right to sleep once Lydia was in her arms and the sheet covered her shoulders, the day too hot, the tears too many.
Tommy went to the bathroom to take off his shirt and to run himself a bath.
She jumped twice, arms flapping in front of her and then she stopped. She looked up at him.
"YES!" she shrieked, then pulled at her clothes.
The cookie clumped on her face and mashed between her fingers made Sissy look ugly, Tommy thought.
Dirty and ugly.
"Shut-up, Sissy," he said to her, as he bent over the tub, pouring shampoo into the warm water. And Sissy jumped some more, behind him.
Sissy hated soap, so Tommy was very wet, as he sat down on the toilet lid, to wait while she played in the water, for awhile. The cuffs of his shirt were sopping and his wrists were itchy.
He thought about rocket ships. He stared at the ceiling.
Sissy was dressed for bed and they were standing in the bedroom, but now they could not find Lydia.
And now Sissy was crying; loudly.
Her fists were in a ball and her feet looked as though nailed to the floor.
She was screaming and red in the face.
Tommy ran out of the room and did not stop until he was in front of the coffee table, in the living room. His heart was racing.
Tommy looked at the ceiling, again. He screamed.
"FUCK!"
Then he took a deep breath. His heart slowed.
And when he looked down towards the floor, he saw Lydia's wool hair poking out from under the couch. He clentched the hair tight in his fist, when he picked her up.
But he did not throw the doll.
Sissy went right to sleep once Lydia was in her arms and the sheet covered her shoulders, the day too hot, the tears too many.
Tommy went to the bathroom to take off his shirt and to run himself a bath.
Comments
:-)
Thanks for the Tommy fix, Q.