The Doll Garden

Fourteen

"I'm sure there's a bright side to this somewhere." Andy's voice added warmth to the icy cold silence drifting around us.

"Oh, yeah?" Mirabelle quipped from the other side of the attic.

"Always. Look, the backup generator's working now," he exclaimed, pointing up at the dim light bulb hanging above us that seemed as if it was going to blow out at any minute. "Oh, and it's not raining anymore! That's got to count for something, right?"

Mirabelle's head was shaking, a smirk easing onto her face, as she stepped over boxes in Andy's direction. Two damp towels were folded in her hands, and she pressed a wet kiss to his cheek. "It's alright. Give it up, babe."

Andy feigned a sigh. "Whelp, what can I say? I tried."

I snorted. "Andy, you are a saint."

"Aren't I?" He snickered. "Anyway, what do you guys want me to do with these wet boxes? I don't think anything inside of them is damaged. They're just a little wet at the bottom."

"Um, hold on. I'll ask my dad," Mirabelle answered.

Andy yawned and stretched his arms above his head. "Okay. I need a bathroom break, anyway. Maybe a nap too."

"Don't you think you slept enough today?" Mirabelle rolled her eyes as she descended the attic stairs. I could hear the old wood squeak every time her foot flattened on the next step.

Andy grinned, following after her. "The human body needs its rest, babe." She scoffed but said nothing in return. The bickering started again when they reached the last stair. When their voices faded, I didn't hear them again. And I was left all alone.

Sleep did sound pleasing.

I'd been up since eight in the morning, and now it was going on two in the afternoon. The storm had quieted down sometime after twelve noon. I was glad the entire attic hadn't flooded. Some water had soaked into certain areas of the floorboards, but I'd expect nothing less from wood. We had laid some old towels down on the floor along with a few buckets to stop the wood from absorbing the water. It worked to some extent until the leaking stopped.

"I'm going to murder that kid. I swear. Feigning a migraine so he doesn't have to help. Can't believe Daddy still falls for that crap." Mirabelle entered the attic again, grinding her teeth.

"That was quick. Back so soon?" I quirked an eyebrow.

"Manuel is being difficult again," she huffed with annoyance.

"Ah. The classic, Daddy, I'm helpless front, huh?"

She seethed. "That brat."

"Don't worry. Karma's going to bite him in the ass like it always does. Like that day he got mad and told me where you were hiding up here." I laughed and shook my head. "He tripped and fell down the attic stairs right after that, then had to get four stitches because he busted his lip."

"Right. He was pissed about those braces. And he had to wear them for the next few years too because he fucked up his teeth." Mirabelle laughed, sobering up moments after. "Wait, you remember that?"

My smile began to drop as it dawned on me. "Oh, um, I guess I do," I said, my voice quieting down. I didn't even know I remembered that. It just came out of nowhere. Talking to Mirabelle helped jog my memory.

She smiled and tilted her head. "You were thirteen years old. We were playing hide and seek together. Manny was being a sore loser and quit the game. Not before ruining it for us."

"Oh." I could feel a smile carving into my face. I didn't quite remember it all like that. But that sounded like something Manuel would have done. When he was younger, he wasn't accustomed to things not going his way, much less playing fair.