Dolly & Edward

Annotation

Bradford Farm is home to Dolly and Edward. Dolly is intelligent, but she prefers to read and do nothing. Edward is a hard worker who enjoys helping old Tom in all aspects of his life.

But everything changes one day...

Dolly & Edward

When Edward entered Tom’s room, Dolly was asleep. Well, what else do you want her to do? Dolly met the sunrise in her dreams on occasion (not that she brazenly awoke while others were hard at work), got up only closer to lunchtime, skipped breakfast, ate a hearty meal, cleaned herself up: washed for a long time, preened in front of the mirror. And why? For whom?

“For myself! You could use some, too!” that’s how Dolly answered when Edward asked her about it one day. And then she was asleep again, without even showing herself to anyone. “Get out of here; you’ll get the carpet dirty! Wash up! Edward, have you been lying in the mud?”

“And why?” involuntarily, he asked again, ignoring her remarks, and then left. Dolly fell asleep in an armchair next to an open book, which Tom read sometime after dinner before starting the day’s chores with everyone until late in the evening. Edward helped him, throwing Dolly out of his head for a while. Not for long. Because, as if on purpose, Dolly ran into him in the most unexpected places, where she simply took a nap and fell asleep!

She could fall asleep at the kitchen table, on a rocking chair in plaid hugs, in bed, on an ottoman, and sometimes just lay on the carpet in the most absurd poses.

She also went to bed early, most often at a time when the sun had not yet turned into a huge pink-red ball somewhere among the weeping willows near the river, whose branches looked like threads separating the kitchen from the corridor. Edward sometimes fancied that the branches of trees also tinkled when the wind played with them, although plastic things on a synthetic thread and the thin flesh of trees with green leaves have nothing in common. This noise… Or are they crickets, which he has never seen but has heard from time to time, or something else?

“What did you do?” Edward was interested when he once again found his neighbor in the same place (the places were changing; you already understood that), where he found her after a late breakfast. But Dolly’s habits remained constant, like the fact that the roosters would crow in the morning, Tom’s neighbor would go to town in a rattling car, and the Shepherd’s family boy would lead the sheep to pasture—Edward watched all this every day.

“I’ve been reading,” she replied, stretching and smiling. Dolly never asked what Edward was doing today.

He somehow did not pay attention to it, but this time he was indignant inwardly. How is it? And why is she like this? How can I put it more decently? Such a pest!

“And how is it? What does it say?” Edward asked again, although in fact he was not at all interested in it (or he tried to convince himself of it). But that’s how he is: courteous, polite, and caring. He’s a friend. Yes, and for Dolly, though he was most likely not regarded as such.

“What can I say...” By this, she meant: “Oh, Edward, what a fool you are! You won’t understand a thing, even if I explain it to you. If I chew and put everything from this book in your mouth—from cover to cover, from the first line to the very, very last!”

So the whirlwind of days turned, but he asked with the tenacity of a donkey, and she answered him with the tenacity of a cow. Thanks for that!

“And why do I keep climbing up to her? And why does she answer me anyway? What if I stop talking to her? She won’t even notice.”

But he didn’t change anything. Dolly, too. Edward asked. She answered. Then he still did not understand; the point is not in their mutual stubbornness.

And won’t you answer if someone asks you? At the very least, sarcastically and with disdain, to humiliate and ridicule. You will answer. Because that’s our nature—we all need to communicate. Even Dolly. Even Edward. Two opposites from two different worlds. Oh, loneliness is the most terrible thing on earth.

In addition, he knew Dolly’s daily routine perfectly well (don’t think that he memorized it on purpose; you can’t lose it here), as well as what he would be answered (and here he definitely memorized it). And Dolly, although she never did anything and did not participate in their lives in any way, knew about his busy day from morning to evening. Sometimes, while Ed wasn’t looking, she would sit on the windowsill and watch Tom and him leave on business. Sometimes she even followed them, so she didn’t ask him—she knew, after all. She knew!

“Tell me what you read in this book!”

“How dare you?!” her eyes widened, and she shook off the dream like the first snow—these loose and cold flakes (Dolly did not like winter). She clicked, pouted, and it seemed to Ed that she—so petite—even increased in size. “About a stupid and pompous fool who pokes his nose into other people’s affairs! That’s what it’s about!” She slammed the book shut.

Edward started in surprise and backed away.

Dolly couldn’t be considered inventive in her deception because she couldn’t read. However, so is Edward. Sometimes it seemed to him that Tom couldn’t read either-it was just so good to sit with a book. These little things—books—are made to sit and, even better, to rest. Dolly knew a lot about that! Well, how would you read a book while turning the steering wheel of a tractor? Or while weeding, fishing, shopping in a small town shop, walking and running, swimming in the pond, or washing in the bathroom? That’s it.

It seemed to Edward that Dolly adored reading so much (or rather, pretended to read), because this activity itself implied idleness—the very essence of her nature—and also the desire to stand out—the second hypostasis.

“Because you can’t,” Edward said.

“What an impudent fellow! Do you think everyone is as stupid as you, Ed?”

“Then tell me, what is there?” he nodded toward the book.

“As if you would understand such complicated things, you idiot!” she insisted.

“And if you try, I’ll suddenly understand!” Ed persisted. Dolly made him especially angry today with her behavior—she was sleeping all day again, idling, and besides, she also took it into her head to snap! And he’s... tired! He’s done so many things and been to so many places! And where was Tom? He will judge them! Of course, Dolly won’t say anything dashing, but this troublemaker will definitely swallow her tongue; she won’t argue and call him names in front of her elders. But Tom still didn’t come. And what would he do in a bedroom on the second floor in broad daylight? At that exact moment, Dolly took complete control of the entire house, transforming it into a continuous kingdom of laziness!

Tom won’t come to the rescue.

“Not today. I’m hungry. I’m going to ask Tom to cook me something delicious.” Dolly gave him a scornful look and left the room.

Edward took out her (blatantly stolen from Tom’s) book. He can’t make out anything—hundreds of small squiggles, like a midge on a hot day. He tried to turn the pages carefully (as Dolly always did, with grace) so as not to damage anything (or else expect trouble and a new round of abuse, not from Tom!), because this particular book is dilapidated, dusty, in a fabric binding with floral patterns, and there are no pictures inside! Furthermore, he would have understood the pictures! He recognized the flowers on the cover. Yes.

He sighed, thinking that it wouldn’t hurt for him to learn to read, either. Or pretend. He settled down on the floor, looking into the abyss of uncertainty that opened in front of him. The hot day had worn him out.

There is something beautiful about it. At least, reading is a useless activity. Edward closed his eyes.

He had a dream that he had learned to read. And now he was teaching everyone to read and write. Even Dolly began to respect him. She asked questions. She inquired about his business, what was written here and there, there and over there, and demanded that she be told in all the details, despite the fact that she could not read and had to pretend the entire time. And he told her everything, from the first line to the last, without concealment and with pleasure. Even Tom was amazed at his skills!

“Edward,” the old man exclaimed, “it seems it’s time to send you to school! Together with the Shepherd’s boy, who is the youngest, you will go to the town! And then, as soon as you’ve learned all your letters, you’ll take on helping me with the paperwork. Things are going to get better on our farm!”

Dolly’s scream roused him from his reverie. She was not angry at all, but she did occasionally yell like that during scandals when something was done against her orders.

“Tom! Tom! Tom!” she screamed—heart-rending, heart-rending. Dolly was crying. She was crying, screaming, and calling Tom.

Edward dropped everything—his dreams and an open book—and rushed downstairs to the kitchen.

***

Dolly heard his footsteps. The curtain rustled.

“Dolly, what happened?!”

“Tom…”

Edward’s eyes widened, his heart was beating wildly against his ribs as he was rushing down, and now it was preparing to jump out at all.

Tom was lying on the kitchen floor. Edward could smell the drugs and the disease—sweetly cloying, herbaceous, suffocating, mixing with the smell of excrement, greasy skin, and sweat—after their labors today. He knew that unpleasant scent as well as what it promised. So it reeked from the drinkers in the town: ailing, quarrelsome, slowly fading, bathed in the unbearable stench of beer and smoke... But Tom... Tom didn’t smell like that.

“He decided to lie down! Well, not on the kitchen floor! And he doesn’t respond to my requests at all.” Dolly winced. Just now she was screaming in horror, but in front of Edward, she gathered herself. “Tom, I’m hungry! Tom! Get up.”

“Dolly...” Edward just stood there, unable to move, waiting for her to come closer. The old man was lying face down on the floor. He lay there and didn’t move. There was a glass vial and a scattering of some kind of powder lying nearby. The medicine that he never had time to take, or took, is where this strange smell comes from?

“Do something! You’re his favorite! Edward! Why are you standing like this?” she started touching Tom, but where would such a little poor thing turn over an adult man’s body? “Help me!”

“Dolly,” Edward repeated.

“Well, help me, you fool! Tom is cold!” Dolly burst into tears. He had never seen her cry before.

“Do you remember what happened with the Shepherds when the snow came off?”

“Why should I remember what happened with the Shepherds?”

“Then Nadine died.”

“There are so many of them there! Who will sort them out?” Dolly touched Tom and sobbed... She sobbed and sobbed in a vain attempt to bring the old man to his senses. “Don’t say that! Don’t you dare! Help me better!”

“Then they called a doctor.” Edward continued; he still coped with fear, and rushed to help Dolly. What can she do alone? How could she, so small and so pathetic, turn Tom’s body? He was so huge, so heavy, so hard and cold, so pale and helpless.

Together, they succeeded. Tom was not breathing; his eyes were fixed on the ceiling—empty and motionless. Bloody foam bubbled on his lips. Nadine looked exactly the same. How would Dolly know that? She didn’t see it. She didn’t ask about how Nadine left the world of the living. But Tom was with the Shepherds at the time, along with Edward. Everyone was discussing it, but what did Dolly care about rumors and gossip? Nothing. She overslept everything. And Edward didn’t tell her anything. Dolly didn’t ask, even if she heard the chatterboxes. She heard—how else? But she didn’t ask, and Edward didn’t answer.

Tom has not responded to their call yet.

“So, let’s call the doctor!” Dolly couldn’t calm down. She may need valerian root to recover her feelings more precisely.

“Do you know how to use it?”

“Of course! I’m not some fool! And it’s called a phone.” Dolly has always been Dolly. Edward is just Edward. “You took off the listener; turn the handle! When you hear a young lady in the listener, you must say to her in the talking thing: Young lady, please connect me with a doctor! Urgently!”

“Okay.” Edward sighed, looked into Dolly’s eyes; he was afraid to look at Tom, and his empty eyes looked like Nadine’s eyes. They were so empty, like a bottle on the floor. A glass bottle of odorous medicine. And if she’s right? If the doctor can save him, why are we procrastinating?

“What are you waiting for?” Dolly ran into the hallway, where the phone machine was located.

Edward picked up the phone. Dolly twisted the lever.

“Hello. Good afternoon, who can I connect you to?” the young lady responded. Dolly and Edward even jumped in surprise—they did it!

“Hello! We need a doctor! To the farm! Our Tom got sick! He lies there and doesn’t move!” Edward shouted.

“Hello?” the lady didn’t seem to understand anything at all. But, from the start, he said every word CLE-AR-LY, just like Tom did it when he used the phone.

“We need a doctor! It’s urgent!” Edward was angry.

“Sir? Sir?”

“Let me!” Dolly can be exasperated even faster. “Young lady, a man is dying! We need a doctor! A DOCTOR! You’re an impassable dumbass! To Bradford Farm!” But Edward completely forgot to mention that this is Bradford Farm. Stupid boy... Oh, Dolly is sometimes right about everything!

He finally snapped and yelled at the young woman on the phone. They were both screaming: “We need a doctor to come to Bradford Farm. Urgent!”

“Sir?” The girl turned out to be a complete fool. “Sir, take the dog away! Sir, is that the cat meowing?! Sir, what happened to you?”

“Fool!” Dolly ran to see if Tom was awake. “And why did she say Sir and sir? Fie! As if a lady couldn’t make a phone call!”

The young lady on the other end of the phone turned out to be completely uneducated. And how do they hire such people? Edward hung up the phone, and, tail between his legs, headed after Dolly.

Tom was in the same position in which they had left him, trying in vain to call the doctor.

“We need to run to the Shepherds.” Edward decided. “Wait here!” He told Dolly. For the first time in his life, he commanded, and she obeyed.

“Don’t leave me alone!” Dolly whispered in a frightened voice. “I’ll go with you. Besides, you don’t know how to talk to people at all, Ed.”

“Who would talk?”

But time was passing. Ed didn’t understand the numbers. He counted to a maximum of three, and then it was a lot, but he noticed that the long stick on the measure of day and night had moved almost two marks ahead—that’s how much time they had lost. Is it a lot? Or not enough? What you can’t touch, lick, or try to understand. Time. Time was slipping away. And it didn’t benefit anyone. Especially for poor Tom, who was always saying that there was so little time to do everything!

Edward and Dolly, stopping the bickering, rushed outside. Ed pushed the door open, and both rushed to the Shepherds, ignoring Galina’s clucking and Danny’s grumbling, who was glad to see them, and going to waste his goose jokes about fights with other bullies living further away. They didn’t know anything yet. They didn’t ask anything—Edward and Dolly didn’t answer them.

Mrs. Shepherd turned out to be as dumb as her sheep. She couldn’t figure out what the neighbor’s fawn Labrador dog and velvet black cat wanted from her.

But thanks to the efforts of Dolly and Edward, this stupid woman, as our mother hen, Galina, finally realized something when she was almost dragged to the house opposite.

“Oh! Jesus Christ!” Mrs. Shepherd exclaimed when she saw poor Tom.

She felt his forehead, checked the breath from his mouth with her hand, put her ear to his chest, slapped his cheeks, and then repeated everything again. Nothing happened. Nothing has changed. Nadine was not saved by the doctor, nor by Mr. Shepherd, nor by his wife, nor by Tom, nor even by the incompetent Edward. And… and then it’s too late. It’s too late. The long stick on the white circle in the wooden elongated box moved even further; Ed couldn’t count up to that much, and he was afraid to ask Dolly. Is it a lot or a little? There is never much time—Tom’s words came to mind. Yes, Ed seems to have understood the purpose of this thing; it shows how little time is left. How little each of them has! And now, after Tom, someone else will have less time: Dolly, Galina, Danny, the Shepherds, Edward?

The woman shook her head, glancing at the worried Dolly and the frightened Edward, and closed the man’s eyes—dry eyelids closed, as if Tom had just fallen asleep. Drops were trembling on her eyelashes. Mrs. Shepherd tried to wipe the dried saliva from Tom’s lips with a lace rag that she took from somewhere out of her clothes. From there, people get sugar, iron round plates, coins, and dry grass wrapped in paper. They love to set it on fire and eat it, but sugar is much better, as are sweets and cookies! Ah, stupid humans! Dolly’s right about everything. Tom also removed items from his clothing. Edward had forgotten the name of the special compartment in the clothes where all of this stuff is kept. Such questions are inappropriate at this time. Absolutely not.

“Oh, my dears! Wait, I’ll be back soon! How intelligent you are! Ah! Oh! Our poor Tom!”

Dolly and Edward walked her to the door in silence, went out, and sat on the porch. They didn’t ask the woman anything. She didn’t answer. After all, she thought, even though she was impassably stupid, that they understood everything without her. So it is. Here’s Dolly. Here’s Edward. There are the fool chick, Galina, and her companions. Danny the brawler has strutted in front of them.

Edward remembered the name of the holes in the clothes: ‘pockets’. Tom will never be able to get treats, coins, a bottle of medicine, or fragrant dry herbs wrapped in paper from there again.

They watched Mrs. Shepherd flash her heels, shouting:

“Trouble! Trouble! Jesus Christ, help me! I pray for you! Bernard! Bernard Shepherd! The trouble with Tom!”

Bernard was the name of Mr. Shepherd, Mrs. Shepherd’s husband, as it is not difficult to guess even their sheep. His wife did not beg; she just called for her husband to look at Tom, too. What could he do? He can just look, shake his head, fill his eyes with moisture, and leave.

Tom never called out to Christ, did not call on any Jesus, and did not ask either for help. He asked Edward for help. He asked Bernard Shepherd for help. And he didn’t ask those two (Jesus and Christ—if there are two of them).

No one saved Nadine. She died.

Should Edward and Dolly have asked Jesus for help? Shouting his name into the phone to the young lady?

But Edward, imitating Tom, never did it. Dolly, even more so, would not do such a thing. It’s Dolly!

Perhaps this is why their Tom is no longer alive.

He didn’t ask it out loud.

He didn’t ask—that’s why Dolly couldn’t answer him, even if she wanted to do it for the only time in her life.

Perhaps the story should be continued.

Cover design and illustrations by S. Grey, 2022