Behind the Doll's Eye

Mina Bucur’s life wasn’t always this way. It used to be better, more vivid, and full of life. In her little village back home in Romania, death wasn’t around each and every corner. Death wasn’t a common topic of discussion at a dinner table full of lavish food and expensive wine. Life—life and all its wonders—was what Mina was used to talking about vibrantly back home with her family: her two lovely parents whose love was so sick and made Mina almost gag with glee; her two younger sisters who were so closely acquainted with trouble that it was an old friend for them and found them wherever they hid (unless their mother found them first, that is); and of course, her lovely grandparents, who lived through so much heartache and trials beyond comprehension, but still put fresh, lovely smiles on their experienced and lived faces. Mina loved her family, loved them so much that she would do anything for them—anything to save them from harm. Well. . . the day that Mina would take up that promise came sooner rather than never, much to her and her family’s misfortune.

On some unfortunate night that is now many years passed, trouble came to the Burcur’s doorstep. Two thieves broke their weak front door and crashed into their quaint dwelling, demanding all their money. Mina’s family wasn’t poor by any means. Food filled her stomach every day three times a day, and she could go out into the village and buy things without worrying about the price, but they weren’t wealthy either. They lived a comfortable lifestyle and that was enough for all of them. But, they saved more than they spent, and the thieves demanded this of them at both gunpoint and sword point. Everyone in the small house woke up immediately to the first bang they issued against the door. They were all terrified by the time the door came crashing down. Her father was a tough and admirable man, but he knew when to pick fights and when not to. His family was being threatened, so he gave in to the thieves’ requirements and gave them all they had. The thieves left quickly after that and it was a devastating blow to the family. They all spent years and years saving up that money so they could afford the life they all knew they deserved. But life is cruel that way. It’s evil that way; the Bucurs sadly had to learn that the hard way.

Life had a funny way of showing its hands. The duality of it all—the good and the bad each played at the same time. One didn’t happen without the other watching close by. Two days later, Mina met a man in the village. He stood out to her because he was the only well-dressed man in her sight. A suit the color of Italian expresso mixed with a little bit of milk, his hair was a shining black beacon against the sun rays, and his skin was tan, the color that skin became with doing hard work outside for hours and hours on end. Apparently, Mina captured his attention as well. For in exactly 26 long steps, the strange man found and situations himself in front of Mina and introduced himself and asked her name. Everything was fixed at that moment. This man was her family’s savior.

Within a span of a fortnight, Mina’s small, quaint life was packed up in exactly three suitcases, and she was on a train headed toward Liverpool, where there she would board the RMS Aquitania, an ocean liner whose passengers were single young ladies traveling to the United States for two reasons and two reasons alone: to marry a man or to meet a man to marry. Mina’s situation qualified for the first, and she was terrified, for the only thing she knew about her future beloved was his name: Richard Ripley.

Mina eventually learned that her husband’s name wasn’t something to say around polite company—company that knew no better than to shiver at such an utterance. Her husband’s name was a weapon, and it wasn’t meant to be used lightly, it wasn’t meant to be tossed around like it was nothing. Because it was everything, and now it was hers. Mina Ripley, the wife of the infamous mob boss of New York City.

They described the times as “roaring” and Mina thought it fit perfectly. The 1920s was already like a dream. The war to end all wars was over and everyone could take a collective deep breath and things went back to normal. Everyone just knew warfare was over for good. Nothing like the Great War would ever occur again in the history of humankind. Enough blood was shed all over the empty fields and trenches that made up Europe’s rural landscape. Enough was enough, and nothing more was needed. The Germans were paying, and Mina, along with the whole world, just went about their days with freedom beaming from their hearts and hoped. Hoped it was over for good.

In the case of New York City, everything became better than ever. Richer and just. . . more. The glamour that befell the city was enchanting, impressive, and well, it roared with extravagance. The lush wealth echoed down all the streets, avenues, and parks. Where everyone walked, newness was felt. The end of the war welcomed in a new era. One in which jazz become legendary, booze was illegally severed in hidden speakeasies, and mobs ruled the streets. While most fun activities were illegal, it didn’t stop the wealthy to host a decade-long party with few breaks of pure quiet in-between. Mina saw the openings of what she knew would be famed for years to come: the Apollo Theatre on 42nd Street, the Roseland Ballroom in the Theater District, and the Cotton Club on 142nd Street in Harlem. Mina fell in love with New York City because it was the contrast to her small Romanian village she was used to. Don’t get her wrong, she loved the simple and historical feel of her village, but New York City held something special. Secrets were the city’s small and seemingly insignificant details, and Mina thought herself the only one who bothered to discover them. In a place as big as New York, secrets came in abundance and people paid a lot of kept them covered.

And the clothes, oh the clothes—how Mina loved the fashion trends that were designed after the war. The war taught everyone that life was short and seemingly endless peace they experienced every day could easily be taken away. The young women of the time took this to heart, and the fashion designs of the time meet their demands. The accessories and what was known as “flapper-style” were lavish and brought an air of delightful scandal. Mina loved wearing outfits that turned people’s eyes. She loved with people took a quick second glance at her. Back in Romania, Mina didn’t have this. Her clothes weren’t richly made and none of the male villagers really noticed her. How could they when her clothes had no life, no story to tell. They sucked the youthfulness from her face and aged her fifteen years. It wasn’t until a certain gentleman was visiting on business that he noticed what Mina truly was and what she could be. His name was Richard Ripley, who she would learn was the Mob King of New York City. He was a man of danger and arrogance. He didn’t care what others thought of him, and if someone was useful to him, he made it known. And Mina, little twenty-year-old Mina, she was useful to him. Very useful. In his word, “Doll, you’re beautiful. I’m gonna marry you.” And Mina, excited someone finally noticed her and yet terrified that it actually happened, she nervously took him home. Upon the offer Mr. Ripley made to her father, whose eyes almost practically popped out of his head, he agreed immediately. Her mother wore a mask of pride, but underneath, and hollowness thrived. She didn’t want to little her baby (one who quickly grew into a gorgeous young woman) go. She couldn’t do it, but the money, while not necessary. . . the money was nice. The money helped tremendously. Her younger sisters were none the wiser and didn’t really mind the change of situation. They were just happy that they could now get more and more toys to conquer their waves of boredom that hit them from time to time with the endless days that came and went with no excitement. ‘

It wasn’t until later, after a week and a half into the marriage that Richard Ripley deemed Mina ready to know the truth.

“I’m a dangerous man, doll.” He said this as he walked across the parlor with a confident gait. His hands, which were large and callused from midnight rendezvous with enemies, picked up the crystal glasses with a softness that Mina recognized when he touched her body in any way. Whether it be her hips, hands, or face, he treated her as a beautiful jewel that needed protecting from wanting thieves. He poured the bourbon slowly, not wanting to waste a drop. Mina stared at him, confused and scared about what else he was about to say. He couldn’t possibly leave it there and expect her to be okay with it.

“Whatever do you mean, Richard?” Mina pressed a hand against her stomach, which was covered in the latest Chanel design. The fabric felt expensive and even smelt expensive as well. Like before they packaged it, they sprayed an unknown yet delightful Frech perfume on the clothes. Mina didn’t mind as the smell now wafted into her nose and helped calm her down some.

“I’m a dangerous man, doll.”

“You said that, but what does it mean. What do you mean?”

Richard Ripley stared at his wife in awe. No one ever dared to question him or demand answers of him, But his wife, his lovely wife, wasn’t like everyone else. She didn’t believe that she needed to be scared of her husband. If she wants answers, she’ll get them.

Richard took one breath—an inhale and an exhale, each taking ten seconds to complete—and turned to his wife, who had begun to shake. He could see the slight gooseflesh prickling along her arms. He needed to get over this quickly. Then he would explain everything to her.

“I’m the Mob King of New York City, doll. And since you’re married to me, that makes you a precious thing to be protected. No harm will come to you when I’m around. As I said, I’m a dangerous man. No one will dare mess with me, doll.”

Mina opened her mouth to speak but Richard quickly put a stop to it. “Just. . . think on it, doll. Don’t say anything until you're ready.” And that was that.

Mina listened and for weeks she thought about it. It went through her head at every opportunity. When she was meeting her friend—a lovely Miss Daisy Adams—at their favorite restaurant; at the theatre where Richard sometimes took her as a treat; and at the quiet moments of the night when she couldn’t sleep and read the night away until it bloomed into a bright morning. Mina thought, and thought, and thought. And she accepted it. She decided that she could live with it. And she did, until the night of her twenty-four birthday when the truth was revealed and Death was a special guest to a bloody eventful occasion.

Mina learned exactly a week from her birthday that Richard wasn’t loyal. He was sharing a bed with her friend, Daisy. At first, Mina was filled her confusion. Her mind was racing back and forth over whether she should cry and wallow in her own sorrowful piety, or take circumstances into her own hands and take back what’s hers. Or. . . a dark thought entered her head.

Get revenge.

Mina decided on the third and last option. It seemed fitting, regarding her situation and how her marriage was in the past couple of weeks. Richard developed the odd habit of returning home in either the late hours of the night or the early hours of the morning where the sun was just peaking over the horizon, blessing the city with its glory. Mina first ignored it. Then she noticed the smell of a strange perfume and knew the truth. She pieced together the puzzle that was there and came to the most logical confusion. Richard no longer cared for her. He was bored of her. So he found a bedroom playmate somewhere else.

Now Mina was bored, and so she started to plan.

It was the night of her twenty-fourth birthday and Richard Ripley went rather fanciful with showing the most esteemed of New York City how he loved his beautiful wife dearly. Only three people in the room knew it was a lie: Mina, Richard, and Daisy. Everyone else believed the lie, as it was decorated rather nicely and was quite expensive.

The night went on and the moon passed slowly overhead like a slow clock ticking and ticking away the hours with the stars as a guide. The guests drank and drank away their problems with alcohol provided from a local speakeasy that owned Richard a favor for guiding the police force away from his location. His dear friend was put in jail, but better his friend than him. He now had the Mob King of New York City as an acquaintance.

Mina plastered a fake smile on her face as she made a toast and thanked everyone for attending. Her nails clicked against her champagne glass as stress took over her body and caused her to waver a little bit. If anyone came to acquire, she blamed it on her shoes, which were heeled a little bit more than she was used to, and her consumption of alcohol, even though she only had two glasses of champagne.

Hours passed, and it became time to serve the cake. Richard hired who he deemed the best baker in all of New York City to bake his doll the most delicious and well-decorated cake for her beloved birthday. The cake was five tiers tall and was covered in gold frosting with careful white details covered the surface of the dessert. It was like the interior of the Palace of Versailles came to life on a cake; it was absolutely gorgeous. Mina, if she still loved her husband, would have kissed him fully on the lips, polite society damned of public displays of affection. But Mina, here and now, loathed her husband and hated her friend for creating a false environment for her. Mina thought she was loved, but in reality, she was only tolerated. So, with that thought in mind, Mina didn’t regret for one second what happened next.

“Blow out the candles, doll,” said Richard who stood with Daisy on Mina’s right. He offered a smirk as Mina did as she was told.

“Now, what did you wish for, doll.?

Now it was Mina’s turn to smile. She said, “This.” And shot both her husband and her friend in the head, straight through their brains. Blood splattered everywhere and people screamed that they escaped the Ripley manor. Blood got onto the cake, but that didn’t stop Mina from savoring a slice and enjoying the sweet smell of her husband and friend’s death. It was now her favorite perfume to wear.

As Mina indulged what become a cake celebrating vengeance instead of her birthday, her husband’s fellow mobsters remained in the room, looking at one another in utter confusion. What were they to do, their equaled puzzled faces silently said. Their boss and his mistress were just shot in front of them. There was a whole crowd of witnesses and they all ran away. Would they say anything? Mina just knew they wouldn’t dare. With two determined shots of her gun, she started something new. A new empire of sorts. The rise and fall of Richard Ripley—his reign was now over.

Mina sat upright in her chair and asked with full confidence and no fear, “You all have two options: Join me and accept me as your new queen, or die by my hand.” The men turned to each other as if trying to determine what their fellow brethren were deciding to do. Then— one by one—they all slowly kneeled and bowed their heads. A decision was made.

Mina Ripley—no, Mina Burcur—was the new Mob Queen of New York City.