Hollow Dolls, The (2 page)

Georgy insisted she drink bottled water regularly. He even had them
delivered to her apartment by the case load in those little plastic bottles.
“Drink a few a day,” he’d said. “It’ll keep you balanced.”

Waiting at the Sainsbury’s pharmacy counter, Mel imagined Georgy
back at the office masturbating. Then she noticed herself rocking a little
against the counter and stopped.

She went to the Camden Market for a pint. “I’m not schizophrenic,”
she said. “Winnie, okay sure.” Standing in the bathroom stall she picked at the
label on the bottle of Risperdal, the anti-psychotic meds Georgy had given her.
It said ‘Georgy Kovalev, MD, PhD, FRCPsych’, and underneath her name was
written in pen since it was from his office and not one from the pharmacy. The
label wouldn’t come off. 

“Fuck it.”

She dropped the whole thing in the drink and flushed. No taking
chances. She could have tossed them in the trash bin only the custodian might
find them and see the names. If word got back to Georgy... Getting caught was
never an option. She wouldn’t want to start all over again—shrinks were hard to
train.

Mel was at the end of her twirl and twizzle with her eyes closed.
Locked onto the pole between her legs, she c
ounted: one, one-thousand,
two, one-thousand...up to six that time.
Men in the front row
crumpled paper money and pitched them up against her body like they were scoring
points.

Origami praying mantises prickled her damp skin. Someone in the
crowd shouted her real name and Mel Willow percolated in popcorn font against a
pan full of shiny yellow corn kernels.

When she
let go, landed and opened her eyes she s
wiped
a paw at the neon Popsicle stage lights and smiled. Aww, cute little bunny
couldn’t reach them! But they were entertained. That was her job, wasn’t it?

She remembered the beginning when her moves were all kata-esque
and street kid hip hop. 

“Yeah, like that,” Lilly would say. “But sexier, honey.”

Like sexy was some magic ingredient Lilly had just invented.

“What do you want? I’m fifteen.” Melanie would say it back at
Lilly, feeling frustration and a bit of embarrassment. She remembered her voice
had been goofier back then. Lilly would pat her on the bum like she was her
kid, and tell her to go get dressed. 

‘Neat, clean, and sexy’ was Lilly’s mantra at
Club Lick.
She
owned the place and everyone in it.

As Mel walked off stage, Roger’s voice cut through the noise.

“Let’s hear a really big hand. For... Baaad Bunny!” 

Back in the dressing room girls on staff chatted and dressed. Cara
tugged on Mel’s robe. “Are you high?” She searched Mel’s eyes.

“It’s just my meds.”

When she tried to explain that she was okay, Cara touched a finger
to Mel’s lips. “Not now. Let’s go somewhere.” Mel felt the dominance in that
one finger, and in Cara’s eyes she saw a secret.

Mel loved dancer arms. The lead in ‘Black Swan’ came to mind. How that
dancer had made flight with her arms rolling in waves. That girl had been
inhabited by a dark twin too. And in the end she’d gotten away with it, had
flown away. Mel wanted that more than anything.

 “Are you sure this is okay—us just leaving?” said Mel.

“We’re fine. Lilly can handle things herself for a few hours.” Lilly
was Cara’s mother. “God, girl, she doesn’t own you,” said Cara.

“Yeah, someone should tell
her
that.”

Cara beeped the locks and looked across the Audi’s roof at Mel.
“My place?” Cara’s pretty head floated there across from Mel, a vision of
loveliness being enhanced by Georgy’s cocktail. “You have better booze,” said
Mel. Cara was ‘la combinación perfecta’, a Cuban mulata.

When they got settled inside, Cara looked over and put her hand on
Mel’s heart.

“Tú mi corazón,” she said.

They
were always alone when Cara said that to her. It meant,
You have my heart.
Mel
always answered ‘me too’. Mel touched Cara’s cheek, and somehow Cara knew.

“You’re
pretty, Mel, pretty as I am, and then some. So what if you’re a little whiter.
Don’t listen to those bitches at work.”

Mel
laughed, and it released the strange feelings she was having.

“I
can’t help it,” she said. “Lilly’s the one who sets them against me.”

Cara
didn’t respond. She started the engine.

“It’s all part of the process,” A Morcheeba song wafted through
the air. When Cara returned from the washroom Mel smelled
‘C’ by Clive
Christian
. When Mel commented how much she loved the
scent, Cara went back and got her the bottle.

“Here doll, early Christmas,” said Cara. Mel put some on, looked
at Cara and touched her heart. Cara looked back and smiled then Mel felt
foolish.

They lounged and talked. Mel loved that she’d look in Cara’s eyes,
and Cara wouldn’t look away. Mel prowled around, taking pictures on her iPhone
as Cara posed. Not counterfeit clothes-horse style, more refined. When Cara
stopped moving, so did the world it seemed. They drank single malt and chatted.

“So you’ve hit a rough patch lately?” said Cara.

Mel opened up about her loveless heart, how much she wanted to be
like Cara. She knew she was going too far and didn’t care. She let it slip about
one of her episodes.

“You go away?” said Cara. “Like, how away?”

"It's like stepping right into a movie. I go other places and
come back out again,” said Mel. “I usually remember everything though. Georgy calls
it impaired reality.”

"How can you handle that? Does it happen at work?"

"No... Not yet anyway.”

"Georgy isn't helping?"

“He gave me anti-psychotics, but I’m off them now. Don’t say
anything to Lilly,” said Mel. “We hooked up, at his office.”

“What a little slut! He’s supposed to be your psychiatrist.”

“It happened while I was there. I went away, when we were making
out on the fire escape.”

“Little Miss Melanie.” Cara was more concerned about her and
Georgy than anything.

“I have this sexual thing from when I was young,” said Mel. “It’s
kind of hard to explain. It’s part of my therapy now.”

“Go ahead love. You know you can trust me.”

“There’s been someone inside me since I was twelve and she was
asleep, I guess.”

Mel continued. The problem was, nobody could see Mel and Melanie
both, never mind the new girl. When Mel finished explaining, Cara leaned back
and looked at the ceiling like she was stargazing. Mel watched her; Cara would
think Mel really was psycho. Too late now though.

“My grandfather spoke of such a thing,” said Cara, breaking Mel
out of her paranoia.

“Please, not voodoo! You know it freaks me out.”

“It’s pronounced ‘Vodou’ and it is not freaky Mel. It is a religion.
My grandfather was a mambo, what you’d call a priest.”

“Okay.”

Cara paused again. Mel sat up. She tucked her hands in between her
crossed legs and waited.

“Some stories aren't just stories,” said Cara. “They're Vodou.
They channel mind and soul from another place.”

“What story?” cried Mel.

“The way grandfather talked about such a thing, he called her Nigreda.
She is inside you. She has a long history. Nigreda is not a religious figure,
she’s from the still place—the unknown.”

 “So where is she?” Mel looked worried.

“Inside you. So get your shit in order. Now, Mel!”

Cara let out a big sigh, and sat back flipping through the latest
issue of
French Vogue
like everything had been settled. She didn’t like
having to ‘be there’ for the dancers. Or for anyone. She’d still made Mel feel
good, because at least Cara didn’t think Mel was plain crazy. Plus, when Cara
settled it like that, Mel felt some resolution was made, a closure. That gave
Mel some confidence.

Back home, Mel wore her long black hair. Looking in the full
length mirror, she felt more and more that indeed, she did look like Cara, only
with white skin. Mel wanted her as a sister, and that was that. Mel’s face was
a little more round, and Cara had brown eyes. Mel tried to imagine herself with
brown skin. Ugh! She looked like a vampire. She ought to be going to a tanning
salon. Cara had longer legs, she was thinner.

If Lilly hadn’t always called Mel her ‘Little Pet’ and told all
the girls Mel was special... Mel had heard the whispers about her being a dyke,
or having too many muscles. It was all so complicated, trying to relate, to
have friends when it felt like Lilly was forcing things. Now, it seemed Cara
was another real friendship Mel wasn’t going to have. She hated her—Lilly was
trying to keep Cara and everyone away.

Mel googled Nigreda. There wasn’t a single thing on the internet
about her. That had to mean she was a real old spirit. Authentic Vodou spirit. She
sat and looked at her eyes in the mirror. She called quietly, “Nigreda”. The
dark sexual girl from the combine appeared. The one who lived inside the pain. They
were twins, her and Nigreda, brown twins. Mel saw the blood and stars and fish
swimming in her eyes. They were the ones who craved pain, to have it upon them,
and to inflict it upon others. Even to go all the way into it, forever.

“See, look Melanie,” said Mel. “She’s not anything to be afraid
of. Nigreda is here to help us.” Melanie nodded and felt her pony on the back
of her neck. Sitting on the edge of the tub, looking in the mirror, all three
began to breathe a little easier.

Mel freshened up and headed back to the club.

After work that night, Cara and Mel sat having drinks. A waitress
delivered martinis. “Jugi sent these over.”

 “Thanks, Jen.”

“What do you think, Cara?”

“Where is he?”

They looked around the Club. It was a busy Friday night.

“Oh well, a martini is a martini,” said Cara.

“That’s very un-Freudian of you.”

“Cheers.”

The men in the club didn’t usually get to Mel, but as she sat with
Cara, their gestures began to creep into the corners of her eyes. Here a
darting tongue, there a shiny sweat on the face… hands hitting chests, vying
for dominance in a giant pod of simians.

Jugi, one of the bouncers, slinked up behind their table and
stroked the back of Mel’s arm. “Hi girls. How’s the action?”

Mel noticed a bit of coke on his nose and moustache.

“What’s the occasion, Jugi? Did you finally get laid?”

Cara and Mel plinked glasses.

“Very funny, Mel. I need you to look after Oksana for me until
she’s picked up.”

“Where is she?”

“Who is she?” said Cara.

“She’s in the dressing room,” said Jugi. He glanced around to see
that no one was listening. “She’s underage, I can’t have her out here. Look,
something came up.” Jugi rubbed his nose and sniffed hard which made Cara and
Mel look at one another with more than a little suspicion. He was a classic
unbuttoned shirt, hairy-chested Roma. “Just keep an eye out for Phillip. He’s
delivering her.”

As they walked back to the dressing room, Mel asked Cara, “What
did he mean—delivering?” Cara just shook her head. They found Oksana trembling,
nestled in a corner of the dressing room.

“Olga Kurylenko’s kid sister,” said Cara.

It was true. Oksana was a pretty fifteen year old girl from the
Ukraine. They took her to their office, which was nothing more than an unused
broom closet they’d cleaned up and decorated.

Oksana explained that her family had fallen on hard times during
the recession and how she’d gotten to London.

“I met employment agent who offers me job in restaurant here. In
London. He lied. He...” Oksana turned away.

Cara stroked her hair. “Love your husband doll—maybe he’ll even
love you back.”

Mel picked up a framed photo from the desk, still thinking of
Oksana. She began focussing in on the photo she was holding. “New picture?”

“Old picture, new frame,” said Cara.

It wasn’t a very good quality camera. There they all were: Cara,
Lilly, Phillip, Hattie... “Who’s this?” said Mel, pointing to a fourth woman
standing beside Cara.

“How about a soda Oksana?” Cara took the picture from Mel and set
it down.

Oksana stared at the floor, gone into an imaginary dark future.  

“Stay here Oksana. We’ll be right back.”

 “We can’t do this,” said Mel as they walked out to the front bar.

“Sometimes you don’t have a choice,” said Cara.

Phillip cut them off as they returned with the soda. When Mel
brought her out, Phillip grabbed Oksana’s arm.

“Wait.”  Mel had to pry her arm out of his grip. Up close, Oksana
smelled like a field of summer grass. Her cheeks were rosy. Mel tried to rub Phillip’s
finger marks off of Oksana’s arm and whispered in her ear, “You have my heart.”

When Mel stood, Phillip pulled Oksana behind him and glared at Mel
with his Siberian crystal North-fucking-Pole eyes. He clutched the hair at the
back of her head.

“You have
my
heart, Mel.”

Phillip kissed her hard on the mouth, breathing vodka fumes
through his nose. He grabbed under her skirt and dug his nails in as he pushed
past her panties. Sliding his fingers inside her, his tobacco fingers stung. There
was nothing she could do—Phillip was Lilly’s little brother. It was the first
time Mel had even been up that close to him.

In the bathroom, Mel wiped Phillip off her lips. She pictured
herself as Oksana. Around fourteen. That would have been five years ago when
Mel had just been brought to London by her mother and Peter. What if that had
been her...

Right around closing time, Mel saw Jugi being taken by a few of
the other security guys out the back door of the club. He was walking between them,
being escorted. It was the last time Mel laid eyes on him.