The Distance Between Us

as she lowers herself back to the floor.
    A couple of little girls who just left had touched everything. My mom insists that when people know a doll’s name, it’s easier to fall in love with it. So in front of every doll is a placard. Now those little name cards are completely messed up, switched around, lying flat. It’s really sad that I know Bethany’s name card is in front of Susie. Really. Really. Sad.
    Skye’s phone rings. “Hello? . . . No. I’m at The Little Shop of Horrors.” That’s what she calls my store.
    It’s quiet for a while before she says, “I didn’t realize you were coming by.” She stands and leans against the counter. “You did? When?” She twists a piece of hair around her finger. “Well, I am kind of spaced out during that show.” Skye’s voice matches her name, light and airy, which makes everything that comes out of her mouth sound sweet and innocent. “So are you still here?” She walks around doll cradles and blanket-draped tables to the front window and peers out. “I see you. . . . I’m next door at the doll store. Come over.” She pockets the phone.
    “Who was that?”
    “My boyfriend.”
    “The boyfriend. So does this mean I finally get to meet him?”
    She smiles. “Yes, you’re about to see why I said yes the second he asked me out last week.” She flings open the front door, and the bell practically swings off its hook. “Hey, baby.”
    He wraps his arms around her and then she moves aside. “Caymen, this is Henry. Henry, Caymen.”
    I don’t know if I’m not looking hard enough, but I definitely don’t see much of anything. He’s scrawny with long greasy hair and a pointy nose. A pair of sunglasses hangs off the collar of a band T-shirt, and a long chain attached to his belt buckle droops halfway down his leg before disappearing into his back pocket. Without meaning to I calculate how many steps it took him to get from Skye’s store to mine and how many times that chain must’ve hit him in the leg.
    “S’up?” he says. Really. He said that.
    “Um . . . nothing?”
    Skye gives me a wide smile that says, See, I knew you’d love him . The girl can find redeeming qualities in a drowned rat, but I’m still trying to make sense of the match-up. Skye is beautiful. Not the conventional beautiful. In fact people usually stop to stare first because they’re stunned by her choppy blond hair with pink tips, the diamond stud in her chin, and her crazy clothes. But then they keep staring because she’s stunning, with her piercing blue eyes and the most beautiful bone structure ever.
    Henry is now turning a circle, looking at all the dolls. “Whoa, trippy.”
    “I know, right? It’s a little overwhelming the first time.”
    I look around. It is a little overwhelming at first. Dolls cover nearly every inch of wall in an explosion of colors and expressions. All staring at us. Not only the walls, but the floor space is a maze of tables and cradles and strollers overflowing with dolls. In case of fire there is no clear exit to the door. I’d be pushing babies out of the way to escape. Fake babies, but still.
    Henry walks up to a doll wearing a kilt. “Aislyn,” he says, reading her name card. “I have this outfit. I should get this doll and we can go on tour together.”
    “Playing bagpipes?” I ask.
    He gives me a funny look. “Nope. I’m the guitar player for Crusty Toads.”
    Ah, and there it is. The reason Skye keeps him around. She has a soft spot for musicians. But she can do much better than a guy who looks like he was the inspiration for his band’s name.
    “Die, you ready?”
    “Yep.”
    Die? I’ll ask her about that later.
    “See you later, Caveman,” he says with a guffaw like he’d been saving that up since the second we were introduced.
    I wouldn’t need to ask about Die, after all. He’s one of those types: Assigner of Instant Nicknames.
    “Bye”—Crusty Toad—“Henry.”
    My mom walks in the back door as they walk out the front. She’s carrying two armloads of groceries. “Caymen, there are a few more bags; can you get them?” She heads straight for the stairs.
    “You want me to leave the store?” It sounds like a lame question, but she’s really particular about leaving the sales floor. First, because dolls are expensive and if any of them ever got stolen that would be a Big Deal. We don’t have any type of video surveillance or alarm system on the store—too expensive to maintain. Second, my mom is huge