Page 61 of She’s a Doll

“Me too,” she said; then she repeated it, softer, sadder. “Me too. School was easy. I figured uni would just be the same thing. But then I got there and . . . and it was hard. It was really hard. I don’t know why. I guess I was just second-guessing myself at every step. Is this really what I wanted to do? Is this who I wanted to be?”

I knew the feeling.

“And then my hearing loss got worse, the audiologist said it was time for hearing aids, which was just . . . another thing, you know.”

I have a question, I said.

“Yeah?”

You’re saying “aids” plural, but I’ve only ever seen you wear one.

“When you live your whole life on low volume, full surround-sound stereo can be pretty overwhelming. I usually leave one at home, top drawer beside my bed. Haven’t you noticed which side it’s on switches?”

I hadn’t noticed that. Oh. Yeah. Sure.

“You’re the worst. Kinda like my hearing aids. I couldn’t afford anything fancy, just the basic tech, covered by the government. They’re ugly, and echoey, and obvious, and . . . I dunno. I guess I didn’t want to be living in a strange city while I was figuring all that out. I came back to live in town for a bit and . . .” She exhaled, slow and shaky. “I guess I never left.”

You think you’ll ever go back? I asked. Give higher education another try?

“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe not. Honestly, the older I get, the more I think what I want to do, who I want to be, isn’t the sort of thing that can be found in a classroom.”

But bachelor’s degrees are, like, helpful, right? In the job department?

She coughs out a tight little laugh. “You sound like my parents. And I guess you’re right. But these last few years . . . I guess I haven’t really seen much future in them.” She was climbing faster, still only moving one limb at a time, but doing it steadily, face aimed up at the thin metal balcony wrapped around the base of the billboard above.

Nic, I . . .

“What about you?” she asked suddenly. “What was your plan?”

My plan?

“Yeah, what were you going to do after you graduated?”

I studied business administration, I reminded her. It’s not very exciting.

“What does a business administrator do?” she asked.

Wear a shirt with buttons, I said. Fix jammed printers. Drink coffee. Answer emails. Put annoying people on hold.

“Sounds amazing.”

Just then, it did.

“What kind of business would you want to run?”

I’d never thought about it. While studying, my mind had been pretty set on getting a job a cent or two above minimum wage. I hadn’t speculated on anything more specific than that. But now . . .

Something weird, I said. Something freaky.

“Yeah,” Nicola said. “I figured.”

Antiques, oddities, and curiosities.

“Sounds like Trash N’ Treasure.”

It is. It’s exactly like that. Except, you know, spookier.

“I think that’s achievable, especially when the one answering emails and putting annoying people on hold is a haunted doll,” Nicola said. “People like a good gimmick.”