“You can be Jewel Hair Barbie,” Lexie said as she tossed him a naked doll, then she opened her arms and pastel plastic furnishings fell to the floor.
He moved to sit cross-legged on the floor, then he picked up the doll and quickly looked her over. As a kid, he would have given just about anything to touch a naked Barbie, but he’d never been lucky enough to get within ogling distance. Now that he was afforded a good look at her, he discovered she had a scrawny ass and her knees made weird crunching sounds.
Resigned to his fate, he sat on the floor and searched through a pile of clothes. He chose a leopard-print leotard with matching leggings. “Do I get a matching handbag?” he asked Lexie, who was busy setting up the beauty parlor.
“No, but you gots some boots.” She dug through her stuff, then handed them to him.
He looked them over. “Just what every well-dressed woman needs, a pair of hooker boots.”
“What’s hooker boots?”
“Never mind,” Georgeanne said from her position behind the magazine.
Playing with dolls was a new experience for John. He didn’t have a sister or any close female relations his age. As a kid, he’d played with action figures, but mostly he’d just played hockey. He pulled the leotard up over Barbie’s hard plastic breasts, then reached for the leggings. As he dressed the doll he realized several thing. First, getting a pair of leggings up rubber legs was a real bitch, and second, if Barbie were real, she wouldn’t be the type of woman he’d want to help dress or undress. She was skinny and hard and her feet were pointed. He realized something else, too. “Ahh, Georgeanne?”
“Hmm?”
He turned to look at her. “You’re not going to tell anyone about this, are you?”
She lowered the magazine a fraction and her big green eyes peered at him over the top. “What?”
“This,” he said, and pointed to the beauty parlor. “Something like this could seriously jeopardize my reputation as a badass. Oh, sorry,” he corrected himself before either of the two females had a chance. “Something like this could make my life hell.”
Her devious laughter filled the space between them and he couldn’t help but laugh, too. He imagined that he looked real stupid sitting there trying to shove boots on a Barbie doll. Then abruptly Georgeanne’s laughter died and she tossed the magazine on the end table. “I’m taking a shower,” she said as she stood.
“Do you want your perm now?” Lexie asked.
John watched the sway of Georgeanne’s hips as she walked from the room. “Do I have to get a perm?” he asked, turning his attention to his daughter.
“Yep.”
John hopped his hooker-booted Barbie over to the pink salon chair. He didn’t know much about beauty parlors, but he’d had a girlfriend or two who had spent their time and his money in them. “Could you do my nails while I’m here?” he asked, then ordered a bikini wax and an apricot facial.
Lexie laughed and told him he was funny, and suddenly playing Barbies wasn’t so bad.
* * *
Lexie lasted until ten o’clock. Exhausted, she insisted that John carry her to bed. By subjecting himself to the Barbie Beauty Parlor, he had scored serious points with his daughter.
At any other time, Georgeanne might have felt hurt by Lexie’s defection, but tonight she had other issues on her mind. Other troubles. Big troubles. After that kiss in the kitchen, John had not only moved past bad hair day, but he’d shot past eyebrow tweezing, too. Then if that hadn’t been enough, he’d sat down on the floor and played dolls with a six-year-old girl. At first he’d looked funny. A big, muscular man with big hands worrying about a matching handbag and plastic boots. A macho hockey player worrying about his reputation with the guys. Then suddenly he hadn’t looked funny at all. He’d looked like he belonged on the floor, shoving leggings on a Barbie. He’d looked like a father, and she was the mother, and suddenly they looked like a real family. Only they weren’t. And as they’d looked at each other and laughed, she’d felt a little ache in her heart.
And there was nothing funny about that. Nothing at all, she thought as she walked out onto the deck. She could barely see the ocean waves, but she could hear them. The temperature had dropped and she was glad she’d changed into a blue waffle-knit sweater and a denim skirt. Her toes were a little cold, and she wished she’d remembered her shoes. She wrapped her arms around her and looked up at the night sky. She’d never been good at astronomy, but she loved to look at the stars.
She heard the door behind her open and close, then she felt a blanket drape across her shoulders. “Thank you,” she uttered, and wrapped the hand-woven blanket more securely.
“You’re welcome. I think Lexie was out before she hit the sheets,” John said as he came to stand beside her at the rail.
“She usually is. I’ve always considered it a blessing. I love Lexie, but I love it when she’s asleep.” She shook her head. “That sounds bad.”
He chuckled softly. “No, it doesn’t. I can see how she can wear a person out. I have a new respect for parents.”
She glanced up at his profile as he stared out at the ocean. Light from the house illuminated oblong patches of the wooden deck and threw shadows across his face. He wore a navy blue Gore-Tex jacket, and the salty breeze played with the contrasting green stand-up collar.
“What were you like as a child?” she asked, curious. Lexie and she were not as much alike as everyone believed.
“Fairly hyper. I think I must have subtracted ten or so years from my grandfather’s life.”
She turned toward him. “Last night you mentioned Ernie and your mother. What about your father?”