The summer sun burned high overhead - the Eye of Sauron trapped between the edges of the world.
Craig groaned, wiped sweat from his brow and flung it away before shading his eyes to stare at the baleful orb. Sweat lined his back from where the backpack touched his body. He walked slowly, knowing his dad would be waking soon for his shift at the mill.
"Fucking Lenny," Craig groused, kicking a rock in his path. He wiped his fingers through the short hair on the side of his head with a sigh.
He'd known Lenny his entire life. Had grown up with him and bonded with him due to their shitty parents. Left to their own devices most of their life with other kids teasing them for how poor they dressed or how they couldn't afford lunch most days, they'd fought back. And kept fighting back. Until they found themselves settling into a life of bullying.
Until Craig found a job a few months ago. Being around other adults and teenagers his age, right on the cusp of adulthood, let him see what lay beyond the madness of school. Nobody cared. They didn't care about any of the school drama - just how to keep their boss from yelling at them for going too slow. Now he dreamed of putting away a little money every day until he had enough saved to get his own little apartment to get away from his father. Maybe even getting an apprenticeship somewhere for more money.
And away from Lenny, maybe.
"Stupid Lenny," Craig said with a sigh. He'd punched Jonathon Brenner for laughing like a braying donkey and Craig had made the mistake of being around him when it happened. The vice principal had sent both of them home for the day despite Craig not being involved. He'd even mumbled out a quiet 'sorry' to Jonathon as he left.
A yard sign drew his attention.
"Estate sale, huh?" Craig said, scratching his jaw and the few dark hairs he'd been able to grow. He'd expected to grow a beard when he'd turned eighteen but so far his body was letting him down.
He glanced down the side street to see people wandering around a yard strewn with objects and more walking in and out of the house. The three story home loomed over the surrounding homes. It was painted dark blue, nearly black, with cracked white paint outlining the windows. He looked down the street to his house far in the distance but then touched his back pocket to feel his wallet.
Craig turned down the street, gripping the straps of his backpack with his arms bent. Plodding along. Sweat poured down his chest and over his bulging stomach, a constant reminder for him to lose weight.
Items lay on tables spread throughout the lawn. He looked at them while walking around but they were mostly plates and utensils and other household goods he wasn't interested in. Once he'd completed a circuit around the yard, he made his way inside.
"Ah, that's good stuff," he said when the air conditioning rolled over him.
The house was
packed
with things for sale, including the furniture itself. He walked to an ancient grandfather clock, hypnotized by the soft whisk-tick-whisk-tick-whisk-tick-whisk sound it made. It was strangely soothing and the polished, dark wood only added to the effect. As if he were transported into the past, when the world was slower. Calmer.
He roused himself and continued, walking through the house as if walking through history, rifling through 8 track tapes and records as well as boxes of old photos.
Stairs creaked when he made his way into the basement. It was empty and, for a moment he worried he wasn't supposed to be down there. Nothing had tags but things were still laid out. He walked around until he stood before a tall box.
Craig opened the box and then stepped back while letting it close quickly with a snap. Licking his lips, he looked around the cool room and then opened the box again.
A blow-up doll stared back at him. He laughed, suddenly and sharply. Everything else seemed so dignified but here this was, hidden away. It sagged in its container and he could see others behind it but the first one held his attention.
Once more he licked his lips. And pondered. He wasn't handsome and his reputation at school didn't do him any favors, leaving him still a virgin. He'd seen pocket vaginas and other fancy things but never dared spend the money on them. Everything was priced low here. Surely he could afford this and wouldn't have to worry about ordering something online for his dad to find accidentally.
"Someone else used this, though, man. Gross," he said but his voice was an uncertain whisper. She was pretty, even with the sagging rubber face. He reached a finger out, curling it into a hook in order to touch her face. It almost felt like real skin and that only made it more exciting. A string of fake pearls shifted around "her" neck.
He could hide it under his bed, he knew. His dad never checked his room. He barely even talked to him. And with him working through the night, there was plenty of time where he could be alone.
"It's a dumb idea," he said but he touched the thing's cheek again. Caressing it. A strange, faint ache filled him, beneath his chest. He swallowed and touched his sternum, tapping it gently.
Before he could change his mind, he closed the box and lifted it, carrying it beneath his right arm as he walked up the stairs to head outside to the man sitting behind a table. He was dressed in a suit with a fake smile plastered on his face and a large cashbox beside him.
"Hey, whatcha got there?" the man asked.
Craig looked around, suddenly ashamed of what he was doing but he'd gone too far to turn back so he lay the box down on the table.
"I don't see any tag on it," the man said, frowning as he checked the sides. "Where'd you find it?"
"The basement," Craig told him as his cheeks brightened in the oppressive heat.
"Ohhh, that's why," the man said. "Yeah, I haven't gone through that yet. I didn't think anyone would go down there. Well, that's fine. Let me, oh."
He stared into the opened box while Craig fidgeted. The man reached in with his pen to shift things around slightly.
"Well," the man laughed. "I guess there's some things I
really
don't want to know about my grandfather. Ten bucks and it's yours. I don't know what it's worth and I don't
wanna
know what it's worth or what it is exactly."
Craig fumbled for his wallet before pulling out a twenty dollar bill. He closed the box's lid while the man grabbed change and held it out.
"Thanks," the young man said. "I'm here all day and probably tomorrow if you want to come back."
"Yeah, sure," Craig lied, taking the money to store it while lifting the box. The tips of his ears felt like someone had pinched them hard enough to hurt. He wanted out as quickly as possible so he could sit in his quiet room without all these people staring at him and judging him.
The walk home was arduous and the cumbersome box only made it worse. His fingers hurt from gripping the lid hard and his knuckles were pure white. He kept seeing, in his imagination, the box flying open and the doll flopping out for everyone to see.
"Oh, thank Christ," Craig gasped when he saw the empty spot where his dad always parked. He grabbed his keys from his pocket with the box balanced on his foot against the outside wall while he unlocked the door and rushed inside.
It was cool and quiet and dark and only then did he start to relax. Yet his heart beat faster as he remembered what he held. He kicked off his shoes before walking past the living room and into the bedroom where he lay the box down on the floor by his bed. Despite being home alone, he closed and locked his bedroom door, or tried to lock it before remembering, not for the first time, that his dad had broken the lock years ago in a fit of rage.
He rummaged through his closet to find the old pump that came with the Dollar Store soccer ball his dad bought him for his ninth birthday, laying it beside the box once he pulled it out.
Now Craig opened the box. He reached beneath the doll to pull it out and lay it on his bed, stretching it out as if she were sleeping on the bed.
"Why would a blow-up doll have clothes?" he asked himself while staring at her. "Or shoes?"
Her deflated feet were covered by rubbery red heels while her body and legs were hidden by a navy blue dress with white polka dots that reached down past her knees. He sat beside the doll and touched the pearls, lifting them to see how each were attached to her neck. Unlike the rest of the outfit, the necklace felt solid to the touch.
With a look towards his closed door, he lifted the hem of her dress and grunted when it barely pulled away from her body. He pulled at it and turned her over on the bed to tug at the clothing but it was sealed to her.
"Aw, fuck," Craig sighed.
It wasn't a blow-up doll at all. And now, with it turned on its "stomach" he saw the back was completely open, all the way to the head with a shiny zipper edging the opening. The legs and arms were hollow. Craig reached in, pressing his fingers into the head.
All empty. As if to be worn. But the eyes were solid, not clear; there was no way to see out.
"Well, that's a fucking waste of money," he groaned with disgust, balling it up and shoving it into the box. He kicked the box under his bed with a mental note to throw it away in the dumpster outside Quick-E-Chicken at the end of the block
