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It’s strange how something so incongruous can so quickly become something so normal. Gloria now only occasionally wakes up believing that the previous month had been nothing more than a bizarre, extremely vivid, extremely pink dream concocted by a stressful work schedule. Having the literal living personification of her favorite child doll living with her and her daughter as a real flesh and blood human being now only holds the same strangeness akin to a foreign exchange student from a foreign country that Gloria must’ve simply missed in Geography lessons.
Barbie had fit into their lives, their routines, with a refreshing ease and many, many sparkles.
Barbie hadn’t been with them long now, it’d only been a few months since Ruth had turned her human and Barbie had come to live with them, but to now consider the idea of a life without Barbie would be to consider the idea of a life without expanding lungs — Gloria didn’t think she’d survive without.
Gloria grins as she pulls the carton of jumbo strawberries and can of whipped cream from out of the plastic Ralph’s bag. Since discovering what having tastebuds entailed, Barbie had been obsessed with trying every food, every flavored drink. Right now, her current obsession was strawberries. She’d tried them a couple weeks back when Sasha had offered her one off her plate, and the rest was history.
“If you think that’s good just wait ‘til you try it with whipped cream,” Sasha remarked as she popped a forkful of French toast into her mouth, chewing uncouthly.
“Whipped cream? What’s that? It sounds delightful!”
Gloria opened the fridge, pulling out the can of whipped cream, only to cringe in disgust when seeing the newly formed fuzz that had gathered around the red cap. “Next time, I promise.” She said as she tossed the can into the garbage.
“Promise?” Barbie asked.
“Promise.” Gloria assured.
Gloria couldn’t wait to see the look of surprise that would so elegantly befall Barbie’s expression when Gloria tells her she remembered to get a can from this week's grocery run. Gloria had come to find, with a quickness and fierceness that startled even her, that she was growing rather protective of Barbie’s delight and happiness. Since becoming human, Barbie has been dealing with a lot of anxiety. There were a couple times where she’d find Barbie, back against the wall, fingers clawing at her heaving chest as she turned to Gloria with this horrified look of panic — one that permanently stained the backs of Gloria’s eyelids.
She’d been able to guide Barbie through them with deep breathing exercises, tight hugs and promises of new and wonderful Disney movies to behold.
It was after the first major panic attack of Barbie’s that those protective urges reared their heads and stomped between Gloria’s ribs like soldiers marching to battle — keeping post, equipping Gloria with choice words and mean glowers that she held no hesitancy in using whenever a patron at the Grocery store dared to complain Barbie was being too slow, or when the cashier at an ice cream parlor popped her gum and asked Barbie in a sarcastic drawl if she needed to take overtime when Barbie struggled to decide between a bowl and a cone, having never had either before.
Gloria had just narrowly avoided earning a criminal record both times.
After placing both the carton of jumbo strawberries and whipped cream into the fridge, Gloria comes back to the dining table to resume the thankless job. As she pulled out a box of Lucky Charms from the bag, her elbow accidentally swung into a glass of juice, forgotten and half-empty on the tabletop. Before Gloria’s reflexes have any clue what’s going on, the glass spills directly onto the pages of a hot pink notebook.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Gloria hisses through her teeth as she pulls the bottle of spilled juice upright.
The journal belonged to Barbie, gifted to her by Sasha, the Five Below sticker still adhered to the bottom corner as it was placed in Barbie’s hands for the first time.
“For you to write down things about, you know, being human and stuff.” Sasha shrugged.
Barbie grinned, telling Sasha how great an idea it was through a delighted squeal and flung her arms around the teen in a tight embrace.
Sasha didn’t return it, but she also didn’t push Barbie off (not until they passed the ten second mark, anyways) so Gloria considered it progress.
As soon as she gets the glass situated, she pinks up the pink spiral notebook and hurries over to the kitchen sink, shaking out the notebook overtop askew cups and flipped over plates. She sets it down atop the kitchen counter, anxious fingers pulling a piece of paper towel from off the holder and using it to dab at the dampened pages with fervor.
Gloria studies the pages, scanning over the writing (that wasn’t really centered in between the lines, something that Gloria couldn’t help but adore) her heart crossing its fingers that she hadn’t messed up anything that Barbie had been working on. As her eyes follow along the notes in Barbie’s “Being Human 101” notebook, Gloria can’t help but take in what was written on the page in pink glittery gel pen.
- Make eye contact, but not too much or too intensely cause that’s “totes creepy” — citation : Sasha
Gloria chuckles slightly to herself before reading the next line,
- Grow thick skin cause people are jerky — citation : Sasha. Maybe buy more lotion.
↳ NOTE : Barbie, this is a metaphor, you don’t actually have to grow another layer of physical skin. ~ Sasha
- TO-DO : learn what a metaphor is and how it works, because apparently humans use them a lot
Gloria’s eyes scan a few rows down, and the word she sees causes her breath to hitch as if her very lungs had grown eyes and too were stunned at what they read.
Stupid.
Gloria’s eyes fall down to the next row,
Stupid.
And the next row,
Stupid,
And the next,
STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!
Shock and dread interlock hands with the trembling ones of her heavy heart, their grips tight, their palms slick with sweat. Barbie thought she was stupid? For how long has she been feeling this way, thinking of herself in such untrue terminologies? Did someone call her stupid? Did someone mock her, bully her, and Gloria just wasn’t aware of it?
Never had Gloria thought all things pink and glitter would make her so heartbroken.
“Barbie?” Gloria calls, eyes still downcast on the notebook. It isn’t long before Barbie comes bouncing into the kitchen, but the spring in her step is taken the moment she recognizes the notebook in Gloria’s hands. The corners of her lips turn down, that smile with brightness that the very sun itself would envy falling from grace for a moment, just a moment, until she attempts to reposition it.
She’s quick in doing so, but Gloria’s perception is quicker.
“Gloria, hi! What’s up?” Barbie asks, eyes looking everywhere but that (now cursed) pink spiral notebook that remained in Gloria’s white-knuckled grip.
“Barbie….” Her name leaves Gloria’s lips hanging off the tail end of a heartbroken sigh.
Barbie usually loves it when others say her name. A name makes a person, it creates purpose. Barbie’s been learning many things about the human species, and recently learned the first thing they take and that they’re given when a baby comes into the world (which is a seemingly way more horrifying process than it is in Barbieland) : their first breath, and their first name. One just as important to being human as the other. Barbie was the name little girls spoke with admiration and care, the name that inspired millions of girls all across the globe to grow up to be anything it is they want to be.
And Barbara, a gift bestowed upon her, the thing that made her human, that tied her to her first human breath taken with real human lungs, that created her as flesh and blood and bone instead of plastic and silicone — was all the more special.
But now, as Gloria addresses her, the name leaves a sour taste upon the tongue of her subconscious. It makes a person, creates a purpose, that Barbie doesn’t want to be apart of. It’s something sorrowful, something weak and pitiful, and Barbie hopes it’s the stretches of her imagination (something that wasn’t as fun in the human world as it was in Barbieland) that create that twinge of disappointment she swears is apparent, too.
Gloria’s eyes flit down to the pink text before raising again to find Barbie’s own. “What’s going on?”
“I, uh, certainly don’t know whatever it is that you are eluding to, and there is nothing going in the on!” Barbie attempts to lie. Lying was something new to Barbie, something that humans do all the time, Sasha had claimed. In Barbieland, there was simply no reason to fib. Everyone said what they meant, and everyone else respected it whether they agreed or not.
But the truth that disproved her fibs was staring her right in the eyes as Gloria turns the notebook around. Suddenly, swallowing is a lot harder of a feat than it had been thirty seconds ago as she catches glimpses of the word written in pink penmanship. Barbie’s teeth sink into the inside of her cheek, that familiar stinging sensation gathering in her eyes, its presence taunting and mocking.
“Barbie, talk to me. Please. What’s going on?” Gloria says. She gives the notebook a slight shake in her hand to emphasize her words,
Words of defense attempt to crawl their way up Barbie’s throat, but never manage to make it onto her tongue and past her teeth. They scramble overtop one another, making swallowing harder and harder to accomplish. Her chin bobs up and down like a fishing lure as she attempts to speak, but no words come out. Tears, an ever so irksome new companion, escape their barriers and stampede down freckled cheeks.
“Oh, Barbie,” Gloria frowns. She moves a couple steps closer to Barbie, arms outstretched before she pauses.
“Barbie, can I — is it okay to hug you right now?” She asks.
Barbie’s brows furrowed slightly, why would Gloria have to ask if it’s okay to hug her? To be offered a hug is like being offered a puppy or a brand new dream house, it’s simply too good to pass up!
Barbie nods, breath hitching in her chest, opening her arms. Gloria strides forward, her arms slipping under Barbie’s own with a seemingly practiced ease, and pulls her close. Barbie’s hands clutch at the back of Gloria’s shirt, fingers burrowing into the fabric as sobs begin to wrack her frame.
“Oh honey,” Gloria coos, her fingers threading through Barbie’s hair in rhythmic strokes. They stand like that for a few minutes, or was it hours? Barbie isn’t sure, as suddenly time no longer holds power nor authority when being in Gloria’s embrace.
Gloria pulls away, her hands coming to cup Barbie’s cheeks. Her thumbs are quick to catch the tears, wiping them away with delicate strokes.
“Here, come on.” Gloria says, voice barely anything more than a hoarse whisper as she takes Barbie’s hand and leads her to the old wooden toy box that sat elegant and sophisticated opposite the dining table. Gloria sits atop it, the wood creaking in grouchy greeting, and Barbie reciprocates, sitting beside her. Gloria hasn’t yet let go of her hand like Barbie had expected, and slowly, hesitantly, Barbie moves to interlock her fingers with Gloria’s own. Gloria mirrors the action with a soft smile.
“Tell me what’s going on,” she says, her voice taking on that ‘no-nonsense’ tone that she’s heard her take with Sasha, like the one she’ll sometimes take with clients at work through irksome phone calls on the days Gloria worked from home. “Why would you write that? You know you’re not stupid, don’t you?”
“But I am,” Barbie croaks.
“You’re not—“
“I am!” Barbie yells, startling both Gloria and herself. Barbie’s chin ducks towards her chest, her eyes no longer focusing on Gloria’s own but instead on their interlocked fingers. “I am ,” she repeats — this time softer, weaker. “I can’t — I’m not learning how to be human quickly enough. I don’t understand things, supposedly really basic things, it’s all so confusing and I — I can’t do things by myself.” Barbie sniffles. “I try but I - I can’t and—“
“Barbie, I need to tell you something about human beings.” Gloria says, voice as steady as stone. “None of us can do things by ourselves.”
“But—“
“Look over on the counter,” Gloria says, pointing Barbie’s gaze in the direction of the groceries atop it. “Let’s say I’m hungry, I go over there and make a peanut butter and banana sandwich. You think I’m doing that by myself?”
“Well yeah, of cour—“
“Nope.” Gloria says, popping the p. “It took farmers to grow those bananas, and I don’t know sh—sugar about farming - I can barely keep my cacti alive. It took their knowledge and production in order for me to have it on my counters right now. The peanut butter? Well I can’t even begin to imagine how that stuff is made, so there’s no way I’d be able to have it in my pantry if it wasn’t for the people who do. And bread? If I tried making it it’d look like something straight out of I Love Lucy.”
“You love who—?“
“And driving!” Gloria exclaims, “Do you think I just knew how to drive?”
“I—“
“Absolutely not. I went through three different instructors, failed my written test once and my road test like … an ungodly amount of times. My Mom drove with me and pointed out what every sign meant, what the road markings meant, over and over again and even then I struggled.”
Gloria’s head tilts to the side as she takes in Barbie’s wide, watery eyes and tear stained cheeks. “Honey, no one person can do everything on their own…or anything, really. A lot of us just happen to be really good at making it look that way.” Her fingers stroke the fringe away from Barbie’s eyes with gingerly motions. “Even Ruth Handler couldn’t have made Barbie without the collective effort of her team at Mattel. Remember that Netflix special we watched? About the toys? Nothing is ever just one person, and we don’t just learn how to do things the right way the first time, or second or third. People need people. There’s this saying, and it’s about raising kids but I think it’s true no matter what age you are — it takes a village. And Barbie….Sasha and I, we’d be honored to be your village.”
Barbie’s watery eyes widen, and the corners of her downturned lips turn upward and stretch outward, happiness planting their victory flag, visible in the emerging dimples on her cheeks. Suddenly and without warning, Barbie lunges forward, arms over Gloria’s shoulders, linking around her neck.
“I’d love you guys to be my village!” She grins.
Gloria’s suddenly overtaken by many sensations. The smell of Barbie’s strawberry shampoo, the weight of her arms around her shoulders, the overwhelming light, fluttery feeling in her stomach as though thousands of cocoons that had hung dormant from the lining of her stomach just burst with life via Barbie’s actions. The (probably pink and glittery) wings of hundreds of butterflies tickle every organ and brush against every rib in their frenzy as her face grows hot.
Gloria’s arms hang limp at her sides for a few wonderstruck moments before she raises them, returning the embrace. She centers one palm against the middle of Barbie’s back, the other cradling the back of Barbie’s head. “I’d love to be your village too, Barbie.” She whispers, the breath of her words tickling the shell of Barbie’s ear as she speaks.
Gloria’s the first to pull away. She stops halfway out of the embrace, her hands clasping Barbie’s shoulders. “Barbie, you are not stupid. I need to hear you say it, okay?” She demands, staring directly into Barbie’s eyes.
Barbie hesitates a moment, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, before she whispers, “I am not stupid.”
“No, I need you to say it louder.” Gloria tells her.
“I am not stupid.” Barbie repeats, louder, the words exiting through a newly formed grin.
“Now with oomph! C’mon, let me hear you!”
“I am not stupid!” Barbie exclaims, loud and boisterous, the words exiting through now both a grin and giggles.
“That’s my girl!” Gloria grins. And if one notices the rise of heat on the other's face, they don’t point it out.
Gloria rises to her feet, offering a hand to Barbie. With a bashful grin, Barbie takes it. Gloria begins putting away the groceries, but has Barbie shadow her, explaining her steps, answering Barbie’s questions (although sometimes she had to seek out help in the form of Alexa). By the time the last grocery was put away, all evidence of crying had vanished from Barbie’s face, and Gloria can’t help but ponder how she’d move the sun and the moon to keep the tears banished from Barbie’s eyes and freckled cheeks, to make that grin and dimples of hers permanently reign over the hierarchy of her facial features.
Gloria tries not to give the why’s to those feelings much thought.
Later on that night, the three gather on the sectional for movie night. Barbie’s surprised with a large plate of sliced strawberries and whipped cream for the three to share whilst they watch Enchanted, as per Gloria’s recommendation.
“This is the best, most amazingly wonderful thing I’ve ever tasted!”
“You said that yesterday about Babybel cheese wheels.” Sasha snorts as she reaches for a strawberry.
As the night goes on, Gloria’s words echo and replay in Barbie’s mind. Barbie knows of villages, she just never thought that she could have them in just two people.
But as Sasha storms into the living room during the credits after saying she was going to the kitchen to get an ice cream sandwich, with hands void of said ice cream sandwich and instead holding the pink spiral notebook in the same white-knuckled manner as her mother had earlier as she asks Barbie with poorly concealed rage who she needs to destroy, Barbie realizes,
She’s got an amazing village.