The Dollhouse Asylum (3 page)

Avoiding the street completely, I cut across the yard. Scanning the precision of the red bricks lining the exterior of the home, I note the two dainty trees held up with pencil-thin ropes; with care, they’ll grow to be something great. Maybe that’s how Teo sees me: dainty, but having potential, like the trees. I do and do not like the thought. I love him precisely the way he is—no matter how quirky. What if he wants to change me?

Raising my empty fist to the door, I knock once, and the weight of my fist causes the door to creak wide open. It’s open. It’s open. My pulse quickens as I step through.

“Miss Laurent, you pass.”

Teo, wearing a black suit, sits on a bench in a living room that doesn’t have the interior décor I would have expected. Painted vines and dark arches on the walls give me the impression of Rome or Greece, and a crack painted in the center connotes conflict—something I’m surprised Teo would choose. From what I saw of the first home, the décor made much more sense, with its simple colors and furniture highlighting the aesthetics of the room. Like the wrought-iron staircase I see before me that sweeps over a good portion of the room and dominates everything around it. If I didn’t know better, I’d want to slide down the rail. But Teo would find that foolish. And he is right. I’m not a child. I’m a grown woman—the way he kissed me proved that. He wants to be with me; that’s why he brought me here. Not quite the reception I would have preferred, but he’s here, smiling at me.

Moving to his feet, Teo reaches his hands out for me. “Welcome to Bee’s home. You shall meet her shortly.”

I have to force myself not to reach out for him. Just because my daydreams consist of embraces and kisses doesn’t mean Teo is ready for that affection now, so I keep my arms where they are, force them to remain unmoving by my sides.

“You did well,” Teo says, smiling his moonbeam smile. It was the one he reserved for me after the math meets, when I won. Come to think of it, Marcus seemed to notice that smile once. It was several months ago, and I looked at Marcus, surprised he noticed our bond. Nobody else saw it, but for some reason Marcus did, awkwardly ducking his head and scratching the back of his shaggy, dark hair. Maybe because he knew his brother could decipher his facial expressions the way no one else could. I hope Marcus is wrong, that there are no repercussions from Beijing.

“You know now why you needed to enter
this
home,” Teo says, smiling at me.

I nod, because it’s all become so simple now. “I always take the complicated route.”

His eyes light up, the ebony more beautiful in this noonday light. “You do! But that is why you have these tasks. It was your first one—” There are going to be more? “—and I am pleased you accomplished it so fast. I know you.” Teo waggles his finger at me. “You have a way of mulling over everything many more times than once.”

I swallow, my throat parched from the heat, and spot two filled wine goblets resting on an small table next to the bench. Teo thinks of everything. He plucks the goblets up and holds one out for me.

“And what do you think of the décor?” Teo asks as I take the goblet from him and sit next to him on the bench. I take a sip. It’s only water, but water is all I need. Rest and air conditioning and water. And Teo beside me.

I glance at the large cracks in the center of each wall, not sure what to make of them. “It’s very…unique.”

Teo pauses. My response was clearly not what he had hoped. Teo likes his ego stroked, never questioned. One of my classmates once suggested he grow his hair out, and he’d spitefully shaved his head every day for a week. He even smiled a little when she failed a test, which always kind of bothered me. He didn’t have to punish her for liking longer hair.

Heart hammering, I shift on the bench, trying to find something positive to say about the odd décor of the room. But instead of scowling, Teo unleashes my favorite laugh, the loudest one—not boisterous or obnoxious—but the one I expect the gods in mythology sounded like.

“You have questions for me,” Teo says, eyes twinkling, and a thrill runs through me to see him so calm. “I would love to answer them if I can.”

I take a sip of water as my mind swims. I need him to tell me what this place is exactly and why there’s a need for a vaccine. Surely, Teo’s happier now that I’ve passed my test.

Glancing at his hand resting lightly on his lap, I yearn to take it in my own. If I could express to him all that’s going on inside my heart and my head, he could see how much I want to be with him. Please him. Because he’s the person I think about all day long, even when I sleep.

Teo reaches over and gently grabs my chin. “Perhaps the first question is, ‘What is next?’”

I hesitate. That is not the question at the forefront of my mind, but disagreeing with Teo would make him unhappy “You are right.” But my nose twitches, snags on the smell of tangerine—an air freshener, I think. I scrunch my nose to push the zingy scent out, because I’m
this
close to a sneeze.

Teo perks an eyebrow.

“The smell,” I explain, laughing. “It’s
really
sweet.”

“That would be Jonas,” Teo answers drily. “He tends to get carried away with his duties. It’s all for the better, you shall soon see.”

“Jonas?” I ask, noting the random plants strewn across the floor. From where we sit on the ottoman they look like miniature forests springing up from the hardwood floor. They might be devil’s ivy or some sort of spider plant, but my mom is the one who tends our garden. All I know is the plants look prickly and I may have made up those names.

“You met him before,” Teo says, bringing me back to my question—who this Jonas is—and the only nameless person I’ve encountered is the albino, so that must be him. I tuck away this bit of information so I can call him by his real name when I see him again.

The smell of sheetrock and fresh paint mixes with the scent of the tangerine, the purr of a hot water heater abruptly clicks off, and when I let my eyes wander over to the curved staircase I put together that the same curves echo throughout the room. All of the walls and doorways arch several feet above me. That, combined with the high ceilings and granite counters, makes me realize these homes were built to impress. All this for one person seems pretty excessive.

Teo leans back from where we sit on the ottoman, resting his head on the ivy-painted wall. “I can breathe in a room like this,” he says, voice low, nearly carefree.

And I know exactly what he means. He’s not talking about the air freshener. He means our time together is no longer contained to those heart-stopping moments I stole after class. It’s impossible for me to count the number of times I feared we’d get caught. A teacher coming around the corner would see the way he’d slip his hand around my waist when he thought no one was watching, or a student would point fingers when they saw his fingers graze the back of my neck when he walked past my desk. But I lived for those moments, how they warmed everything inside of me, and I hoped that Teo did, too, despite the danger we’d be caught.

I watch as Teo closes his eyes, seeming to enjoy our moment of peace. And I close mine, too, savoring the fact that our knees are slightly touching, the cool water is cleansing my throat, and Teo’s breathing labors like he’s in a dream.

Time has slowed down in this room. No brassy school bells ring, and there is no onslaught of curious looks from teachers, students, or the janitorial staff. Right now it’s Teo and me and one small bench. The stark opposite of when we’d just met.

Some people can’t remember first impressions, or it all comes to them as a blur. But everything regarding Teo has been recorded with precision, like how I first heard his name from one of the other students.
It’s Tay-oh, not Tee-oh. Short for Mateo, a Spanish name. He’s touchy about it, like he’s royalty or something
.

Those first few weeks at Khabela were particularly tough. I was struggling to make friends, trying to make myself invisible in class. One day, though, Teo said something that cheered me a little. “I will be teaching you all next year,” he said. “Calculus, which holds a beauty like trigonometry. You shall see.”

I was elated, but tried to conceal my feelings, so I let my hair fall forward and scrunched down in my seat. I had decided long ago that scrunching was best, because teachers were much less likely to call on the new girl if she was one they didn’t notice. But my vanishing act hadn’t worked entirely, because it was only a few minutes before Teo sat by my desk, perched atop one of the empty ones to my right.

Placing something on my desk, he said, “I made this for you.”

Startled, I looked down to find a single CD in a slim case. Nobody gives CDs anymore, so I stared at it, confused. A lesson for trigonometry? Or maybe a precursor to calculus. I glanced around to see if the others had them, but their desks were empty except for their textbooks and spiral notebooks.

When I looked over to ask Teo what exactly he meant, he was already on the other side of the room. My gut told me he didn’t want the other students knowing about his gift, so I quietly slipped the CD inside my bag, intrigued.

That night, when I played the CD on my computer, I discovered a collection of music, songs all containing my name. With a name like Cheyenne, I was startled whenever I came across a single one, but he’d found three. And when the Cheyenne songs ended, there were songs about my middle name, Clarissa, the name I’d gotten from my mom. At first, I was shocked that he would know my middle name, but it must have been on one of the rolls from school. And once I got past the surprise that he had made me a CD in the first place, along with the fact that he had bothered to seek out songs containing my name, I decided that he was the single most thoughtful person in school. I had thought myself invisible, someone no one cared to know. But he cared. So I treasured the gift, marveled over the fact that he had given it to
me
.

I have since played that music so many times I know each song word for word. I never said much about the gift, but when I began to participate more in class, I knew he understood my thanks.

Teo’s eyes are closed beside me now. I listen to his steady breathing and study the black stubble of his beard, happy that together we can enjoy this peace—even if I am seeking answers, because somehow I know with Teo there will
always
be answers to be found. He always has a plan.

After a few minutes pass, Teo breathes in deeply. I expect him to comment on the air freshener, too, when he says, “Aren’t you rather dirty? You need a bath.”

The blood rushes to my cheeks and I tilt my head down. It’s silly—if anyone else had said such a thing, I would tell
them
where to go. But no one is perfect; even my Teo has his faults. He can be coarse, insulting even, but his innate goodness is why we are tied to one another. Plus, only the best of people can understand what it means to savor Milton, Chaucer, or Frost.

Feeling the blood ease away from my cheeks, I lift my head, fix my gaze on the oversized bookcases flanking two of the walls. A couple hundred books might be packed into this room. It makes me wonder if the other rooms have more, and if the other homes in the community are the same way. It impresses me that Teo loves books as much as me.

But I’m ready for answers: why he brought me here, and what he plans to do next. If anything, he could introduce me to the other people and let me know when he plans to take me home.

Teo sighs, moving to his feet. “While your transparency becomes you, my dear, answers will come very soon. Shower, and when I return I’ll offer more answers in conjunction with your second task.”

Second task
. I look down, crushed that he found the need for another one. I wish he’d let these tasks go, see how worn-out I am. That I want to be
with
him, that I want things to be the way they were—where we could discuss literature. And kiss.

Teo cups the side of my face and my cheek twitches hungrily beneath his hand.

“Have no fear, my dear,” he says. “You shall feel much better once you are clean.” And it’s true. I want him to find me beautiful, let me again feel those soft lips. I can’t expect him to want me looking like this. Especially in a neighborhood with someone like Cleo.

I nod and move across the room toward the hall, and blindly follow the painted cracks on the walls that seem to lead me right to the bathroom. I spy the large mirrors, the marbled floors, and the ivory porcelain sink when Teo calls, “You should curl your hair. That is how I like it best.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, I’m shined up like Mom’s collection of antique glass figurines. A black, silken robe hangs on the shower door, and since I don’t want to put my dirty clothes on again, I slip it on, making me feel like I’m at a resort. Hopefully the girl who lives here won’t be annoyed that I’m wearing her robe, not to mention using her makeup and her curling iron, but I’m not entirely sure what choice I have. Maybe I can do something to make it up to her later. Maybe Teo will have some ideas on what to do. He always does—like when everyone kept freaking out about a return of the Living Rot.
Calm yourselves
, he’d said.
Emotional outbursts offer little help
.

Movement in the mirror tells me I’m not alone. Teo, still in his black suit, has joined me in the bathroom. “For you,” he says, flinging a white dress at me, which brushes past the side of my face. When it lands on the counter in front of where I sit, I manage to grasp it just in time before it slinks to the ground.

He’s giving me a dress. For keeps?

Teo sets an enormous arrangement of calla lilies on the counter, which makes me blush because it reminds me of a questionnaire I once filled out in school for prom décor.
Preferred flowers?
I had written calla lilies, my favorite. I love that Teo knows. And I love how he never skimps on anything.

“Cheyenne,” Teo says, inching toward me, the tails of his suit jacket flapping up as he walks. He brushes those warm, familiar hands on my trembling jaw and cheeks, the movement so unexpected I’m not sure how to respond at first. He’s wrapping me in his arms and pulling my weary head into his chest. I close my eyes, disbelieving the embrace. Calculus is so far away. Then, it was them and us. Now, it’s me and Teo and his familiar scent: Listerine and tobacco. The first time he wrapped his arms around me, I was surprised to find how he smelled, the lingering scent of tobacco on his clothes, until he showed me how he keeps unused cigars in his suit as a tribute to his deceased dad.
Rather sentimental of me
, he’d said, but that’s what I love about Teo. At the right times, he knows how to reminisce over the past. At the right times, like now, he knows how to drape his arms around me like a warm, smooth cloak.