Bethany Jarmul
Baby Doll
Future
After she passes, in her pristine home with sparkling floors, Lysol-scent still hanging in the air, her salt and pepper-haired son will decipher the code for the fireproof safe. It will click open. Inside he’ll find her passport, life insurance, a ceramic bunny he painted as a child. Behind the rest, a mangled plastic doll. He’ll jump at the sight of it. A germaphobe, he’ll slip on latex gloves before handling the smoke-scarred doll, turn it over in his hands and mind, unable to reconcile his picture-perfect mother with the woman who protected this trash.
Present
In the piles of blackened boards, charred clothing, and ash, a baby doll half-melted, deflated head. One blue glassy eyeball still intact. A smudged name written in Sharpie on the doll’s foot—“Bella.” The young woman holds it up with her shaky, gloved hands, hugs the doll tightly to her chest, soot mixing with tears.
If only the little girl was waiting at the hotel with her baby brother. If only the firemen had arrived five minutes sooner. If only the young woman hadn’t left the candle burning. If only.
Past
They didn’t know what to do with preemie babies then. They carried her around on a pillow, wore silk gloves when they held her—the tiny baby born to a child, a teenager of only 14. The girl-turned-mother lifted her daughter from the pillow with her bare hands, nuzzled her into her chest.
The girl didn’t have much to offer her daughter. Only two things, and she wanted them to be perfect. She gave her daughter the name beautiful and a pink-wrapped gift, purchased with the shiny coins she’d saved in her piggy bank—a pristine baby doll with sparkling eyes.
Lost or Found in the McDonald’s PlayPlace
Two white-turned-gray socks, one lime green with pink stripes
Half-nibbled chicken nugget
Dried-out markers in black, red, and brown.
Dust bunnies, approximately 7 months old
Friends
Slushie, either thrown up, dropped or dripped into a blue coagulated puddle
Size 7 pink Nike shoes, barely worn
A 15-month-old toddler, quickly discovered
Nicknames: “Chicken nugget man,” “Sock girl,” “Speedy”
Mario stickers on the blue plastic slide
Confidence to chase an older girl with twisty hair
A first kiss
Jigglypuff Pokemon card
Purple polka dotted pencil
Piggytails
Pineapple-print flip flop, busted
Fear of clowns
Soggy fries in plastic crevices
New curse words
Two daddy long leg spiders—no three
Strawberry-scented lip gloss
Hair ball with blonde, brunette, and black strands
Lightning McQueen toy, underneath a pirate hat
Six straw-wrapper spit balls
A heart defect, after playing tag
The softness of the padded ground
A dozen fluorescent lights, like angels
Urgent voices of strangers—a kind of hymn
The dial tone of 9-1-1—a musical crescendo
A new reality, just beginning
Bethany Jarmul’s work has appeared in more than 50 literary magazines—including Salamander, Emerge Journal, Cease Cows—and been nominated for Best of the Net and Best Spiritual Literature. Her nonfiction chapbook Take Me Home is forthcoming from Belle Point Press. She earned first place in Women on Writing’s Q2 2022 & Q2 2023 essay contests. Her essay “Intersections” earned the award for “Best in Show: Creative Nonfiction” for Winter 2023 from Inscape Journal. Bethany enjoys chai lattes, nature walks, and memoirs. She lives near Pittsburgh with her family. Connect with her at bethanyjarmul.com or Twitter @BethanyJarmul.
