The Dressmaker's Dummy

Abstract

THE CHRISTMAS WAS TWELVE my father took me to New York City. Even then, it seemed strange to take a trip for its own sake. In my family a trip had to count for something. You had to come back with a dress that could only be bought in New York City or a divorce that could only be obtained in Las Vegas. My aunt Anna asked my father if he was strong enough to travel yet. I'll be fine, he said. It's a good thing to leave Richmond every five years. It expands the brain cells. Anna drove so slowly to the station that my father fretted about missing the train. I bet you'll get a speeding ticket coming to pick us up, he said. didn't like New York much. We ate lunch at the Plaza Hotel, in a big wood-paneled room where women walk in between the tables modeling dresses. My father laughed at them. He leaned his head back and saw the loose skin on his neck. Seeing his oldness made me lose my appetite. waited for him to finish the bottle of white wine and understood why Aunt Anna had been so unwilling for him to leave Richmond. Haven't you had enough? asked. Almost, but not quite enough. After lunch we walked in the park. was cold and ran in circles around my father. He stopped and couldn't remember which path led out of the park. Under a bush, saw a man's shoe. kicked at it and realized that it was attached to the rest of his body. My father pushed the branches aside and looked in at the man. stood behind him and he pushed me away. Is he dead, asked. My father leaned down and touched the man's hand. imagined its damp ness.