The Doll of Esme

‘Once upon a time’ are words that were repeated each night that acted like a savoring

melody for Esme. Smooth notes of a vibrating string on of viola led her to sleep like a

mother’s lullaby. And a gentle hand would lightly push her hair aside of her forehead, was

followed by a kind goodnight kiss. Her face was pale as a doll, hair as sweet as

blackberries, and a fingers that were slightly gripped around by index finger. All I could do

was watch her and smile at her adorable sleeping face, loving her and guarding her with all

my might. With my free hand, I dimmed the light, waiting for a new tomorrow.

“Good morning!” a familiar voiced echoed through the house. Her feet stomped on the

creaky stairs with joy as she hurried to the bottom floor. “Morning Big Brother!”

“Morning Esme,” I echoed as I concentrated on painting the wooden toy train. “You

seem awfully cheerful, especially in the morning.” I yawned as I pushed a plate of eggs and

bacon across the counter. “Here’s breakfast.”

“What? Eggs and bacon again? Emmett, your going to make me fat and if I’m fat I can’t

wear my dress!” Esme sat down and pouted, trying to catch my attention.

“Go ahead and eat it Esme, without food, you’ll have no energy for dance.” I stated with

no eye contact, just stroking the paintbrush contentiously on the toy train. “And anyways, if

you get fat, I don’t have to worry about other boys looking at you.” I chuckled with a shoulder

gesture. I love messing with Esme.

“I HMPAE MUE!” Esme yelled as she gobbled down the eggs. Her vicious hand

controlling the fork, pounced onto the yolk with much force that the plate rumbled.

“Esme, don’t abuse the for egg that I put love and care for to cook breakfast with you.” I

said indifferently, still making no eye contact. Oh, how she hates that!

“THE EGG ISN’T EVEN FULLY COOKED!” yelled Esme as she still continues to eat the

partially raw egg. “And the bacon is burnt...” she ended her debate with a mumble.

I placed my paintbrush down and laid the toy train by the nearby window to dry. Pushing

my glasses up for a better view, I stared at Esme’s face with a mischievous smile.

She looked at me back with cold eyes and a piece of bacon hanging from her mouth. We

continued our staring contest until she ticked.

“What?” Esme said with a harsh tone, only glaring at me back.

“Oh nothing.” I smiled back for a moment and then spun on my chair, picking up my

brush and the next wooden object to paint. “How’s dance coming?” I asked.

Her eyes brightened and a smile formed with no hesitation. “Its coming great! I got the

role of the sugar plum fairy!”

“Pfft.” I laughed. “Were you chosen as that because of your height?”

“NO!” Esme’s face was bright red. “I WANTED to be the sugar plum fairy!”

“Really?” I said sarcastically, “Then who is the princess of the play?” I lifted up the toy,

seeing the light gleam at its wet paint.

“Its Dante…” Esme whispered.

I paused with hesitation. “Dante?…Dante Crimson correct?”

“Yep, that Dante. Even though she’s nineteen and might be even too old for a children’s

play, her dancing skills are just amazing.” Esme bluffed. “She helps other kids in the studio

as well.”

I sighed. “So she’s still dancing huh?”

“Yep.” Esme began drinking her juice and then asked me the most astonishing

question that is asked too early in the morning.

“Why don’t you marry Dante, Emmett?”

I dropped my paintbrush as my face felt flushed with my chest tightening. I spun in my

chair to where I can’t give my little sister eye contact as I clenched onto the wood bear still

wet with red paint.

“You know you like her Big Brother!” Esme continues her rambling. “ Your only a year

older than her right? Hurry and proposed before you turn old and crusty. You can‘t be a

virgin forever.” What am I hearing? What is my cute little fourteen-year-old sister rambling

about? My face just continues to rise in temperature and color.

“Esme, that’s very inappropriate for a young lady to talk that way to her big brother…”I

mumbled as I loosen my collar.

“And Emmett.” As Esme gulped the last portion of her juice, “That’s not very manly if you

don’t propose to the girl you like for 10 years especially when you are a grown adult of the

age twenty.”

“Who are you?” I sniffed. “Your not my baby sister!” I imposed her.

“You baby sister just hit puberty and is at her peak of adolescence.” Esme imposed me

back with cold words. “Thank mother nature for that.”

And there, I began my whining of my sister complex as Esme completely ignores me

and cleans her plate at the sink.

“Esmeeee…” I continued my childish tantrum with my face flat on the counter crying.

“Don’t leave your big brother!”

“Two more years until I turn sixteen and I’ll be out of the house.” Esme states as her

piercing eyes still avoiding mine.

“Noooo…” I screeched quietly. I felt my cold tears on my cheeks and my sniffling

lessened. Some kind of man I am. I can’t help it, I have quite a sister complex since I raised

her like my own child since she was born. I calmed myself and wiped my small tears with

my sleeve as my sobbing turns into hiccups.

“Hey.” yet another cold shout from Esme. When I slowly tuned about, a hug welcomed

me.

“I’m sorry Esme.” I hiccuped. “You know how emotional I get. I’ll try to become a brother

that your proud of.” I chuckled.

“No.”

“Huh?”

“Your already the coolest brother I’ll ever have!” Esme pecked me a kiss on the cheek.

“Oh!” as she leaned to my ear, Esme whispered haunting words to me,“ Dante likes you too

Emmett.” my sister laughed as if she’s enjoying to see me embarrassed.

The door swung open at impeccable timing with a cold breeze burst into the shop.

“Dante!” Esme ran to the woman in red and embraced her.

“Why, good morning Esme!” Dante smiled and embraced Esme back. As she looked

up, our eyes met. “Hey Emm!” Her smile only made things worse as for my high body

temperature, and blood pressure. “You can’t believe it Emmett! It’s extremely windy out

there.” Dante sat herself down by the counter.

Even though Dante’s arrival in the morning is a daily thing, my chest only gets tighter

and tighter for the last ten years. I worry about my health, but Esme jokes around how its

only my hormones are acting up.