“Sweetie, do you ever get tired of living in the equipment room?”
Emmanuelle sighs. “Yeah.”
“Where would you rather live?”
“With Mommy!”
“Oh, that’s very sweet. You are my sweetest girl. I want you to come live with me too. Where would we live?”
Emmanuelle sits up and points to the library. She points to the sky.
Frida tells her about nurseries and big-girl beds, night-lights and sleep sacks and security blankets. She’s sorry she can’t give Emmanuelle those things, that she only had blankets and toys during bedtime practice. Fleeting comforts. It’s a shame she has to sleep standing up.
Emmanuelle grows excited at the prospect of her own room.
“We can pretend,” Frida says.
They linger in the sun holding hands. Frida wants to stay here all day. If she ever tells Harriet about this place, she’ll say that she had to store her devotion somewhere. Emmanuelle, a vessel for her hope and longing, the way people used to invest tablets and sacred trees with their faith and love.
* * *
In response to the day’s emotional upheaval, the trio of middle-aged white women abandon Linda’s cause and resume eating. Ms. Gibson descends on Linda with cans of protein shakes. She threatens Linda with a standing spot in talk circle. Extra counseling. An automatic zero for Unit 3. Expulsion. Ms. Gibson won’t leave until Linda takes a first sip.
“Gabriel would want you to eat,” Beth says. “I’m here if you ever want to talk.” She passes Linda an apple, which Linda devours.
Linda looks sheepish, pitiful. Frida feels embarrassed for her. They’ve never seen Linda blush before.
Frida is the only one of her classmates who hasn’t made contact yet. Calls were brief and unsatisfying. Goodbyes provoked meltdowns. The dolls kept interrupting. Mothers of infants had it easy. Baby dolls stayed in their carriers and they cried, but they couldn’t move or say “Mommy” or grab the phone. Mothers of older dolls had to prevent death, accident, escape, and fraternization, all while connecting with their real children.
Rumor has it that some teen romances began in the doll factory. Frida saw a teenage girl doll rolling around at the base of a tree with one of the teenage boys. They had their hands down the front of each other’s uniforms. They didn’t seem to know how to kiss, were instead licking each other’s faces. The boy bit the girl’s shoulder. The girl stuck her finger in the boy’s ear. The boy flipped the girl over and began stroking her blue knob through her uniform.
Their mothers were nowhere to be seen. Frida worried that the boy would undress the girl and unscrew her knob and try to enter her cavity. The opening is wide enough for a penis. She didn’t know if the boy could become erect, if the activity was consensual. Emmanuelle thought the girl was hurt, that the boy was hurting her. The girl was moaning. Frida made Emmanuelle close her eyes as they passed.
After lunch, Frida is tempted to call Will but resists. She’d want to tell him the truth. She dials her parents’ number, starts crying before they pick up. Her father asks to use FaceTime. Frida agrees, though she wishes they didn’t have to see her. Her father’s hair has thinned dramatically and gone completely white. Her mother looks frail. Her father cries for several minutes, though her mother, at first, remains stoic. But her expression soon changes. Frida knows her mother wants to comment on how different she looks. She was hoping that they’d never see her in uniform, worried about the memories it would trigger. On rare occasions, her father told her stories from his childhood—men in dunce caps who were paraded through his village, children pouring urine on their grandparents’ heads, old people kneeling on glass during struggle sessions.
They talk over each other frantically. Her father has been writing her letters every day. Her mother has been buying clothes for Harriet to wear when she’s three. Every day, they watch Harriet videos and look at her pictures. They have her photo on the dining table to keep them company during meals.
Frida holds the phone close, so they can only see her face. She asks about her mother’s birthday, her cousin’s wedding, their doctors’ appointments.
“You’re too skinny,” her mother says. “What are they feeding you? Are they starving you? Has anyone hurt you?”
“Should we call Renee?” her father asks. “She should do something.”
“Don’t do that. Please!”
They ask if she’s been able to talk to Harriet. Gust has sent them a few updates. They wish they could send Harriet a birthday gift. A card.