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He doesn’t argue again. Not when he gathers the clothes. Not when he wipes the lotion from the door. Not even when I tell him he missed a piece of ceramic beneath the dresser.

By the time everything is back where it belongs, he’s hardly looking at me.

Jamie stands in the middle of his room with his arms folded. “Can I eat now?”

“You forgot something.”

His jaw tightens. “What?”

“You need to apologize.”

He looks at me for a long time.

I wait.

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

He closes his eyes. “I’m sorry I threw things and broke stuff.”

Better. Not sincere yet. In time it will be.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I knew you were a good boy.” I reach up and smooth his hair where it’s fallen across his cheek.

Jamie goes completely still. The choker looks beautiful on him. I run my thumb under it.

“Now you can eat.”

“Did you drug it?” he asks when I set the bowl in front of him.

“A little.”

Jamie looks up at me.

“Not that kind of drug. You’ll stay awake.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” He stares down at the eggs and potatoes. I brought toast too, but he doesn’t touch any of it.

“It won’t make you sick. I have no use for a sick doll.”

“You drugged me last night.”

“I needed to bring you home.”

“You could’ve asked.”

“You would’ve said no.”

He can’t argue with that. Jamie picks up the spoon. He takes one bite and watches me while he chews it. Then another.

Good.

I stroke his hair away from his face.

He stiffens, but he keeps eating.

My other dolls wouldn’t eat the first morning. Sometimes not the second either. No matter what I made or how long I sat with them.