sometimes there are little messes and doll collections

Garland Lily had black shoulder length hair, capped teeth and a mustache that needed bleaching. She was tired and overwhelmed by managing her life, a pyramid scheme, and a broken lamp. At the moment she had too many clients in the dining room. She let me in the big red door. I was wearing a lace chemise from the night before and sporting pasta sauce on my chin, the remnants of a handful of stolen spaghetti from a vendor that swore she couldn’t sell me a plate because it wouldn’t be hot, and that hot plates had to be ordered twenty four hours in advance. A few fraternity brothers walked by wondering where I was from and if I was a freshman. “Are you new?” I asked a cute tall one with brown hair and wide green eyes. “Yes, well, I just transferred here.” Tulane and its steam heated university center was just a few blocks away but I had to get cleaned up. I was late for my first meeting with Graham after having been gone for over a month. Garland led me up a narrow stair and in a few sunny moments I was surrounded by an attic full of china dolls. I thought it strange I had always pegged her as a kewpie enthusiast, and here were all these rosy cheeked cherubs indicating otherwise. “Do you need soap?” she asked, thoughtfully. “Cause all I got’s a little rose water and this tea tree oil moist towelette.” I took the little packet from her and started to unbutton the soiled silk.