He picked up a doll on her bed.
“This is sort of ugly.”
“Say it like you’ve never seen it before, weirdo.”
He looked blankly at her. “I haven’t.”
“Cabbage Patch doll?” She took the doll and shook in his face, for effect. Still, no recognition. “This was IT back in the 80s. Everyone wanted one. Parents fought each other in stores to get one! You really do live in a hole, don’t you?”
“Grew up in a small Georgia town. My parents used to leave in the middle of the night for weeks on end, they were so in love with each other and crazy. Stayed with my grandparents. I played in their store.” He looked at her just once.
“Oh, well… nevermind. Cabbage Patch dolls are ugly anyway, and the whole idea of adults fighting over toys.. dumb.” She fidgeted her fingers, feeling stupid.
“Let’s get ice cream,” he said, changing the subject. “When I was working in my grandparents’ shop, I always wished it was an ice cream parlor and I decided when I was old enough, I’d get one.”
Mary brightened. She was thankful for the change in topic. “Let’s make your dreams come true!”