Finding Alice (22 page)

At the same time I hear Amelia, louder than ever, yelling at me and telling me that I’m a complete fool and that I’m so gullible I’ll believe anyone and asking how I got to be so stupid.

“Shut up!” I yell and then realize I have said these words out loud.

Simon looks at me, and I feel my face turning the same color as the glass Christmas balls I hung earlier.

“I, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you,” I mutter.

He nods. “Right. I thought maybe you didn’t.”

We drive in silence through town now. Even Amelia is quiet for a blessed change. Finally, as we’re crossing the bridge, Simon speaks. “Look, Alice, I realize that you’re going through some hard stuff. Believe me, I understand. I really do. You need to know that I
really
do understand. And I want to help you, if I can. I want to be your friend and help you work your way through this. And just for the record, I don’t think you’re really crazy, okay? Can you believe me?”

I’m not sure what I believe right now, but I nod and pretend that I do. After all,
Simon says
.

“All right then,” he says. “I’ll be back here a little before seven.” He is parked in front of his aunt’s house now. “By the way, just to warn you, this is usually a dress-up kind of affair, but don’t worry. I
realize you probably don’t have anything like that with you. So you can wear anything you want, okay? I don’t want you to think you’ve got to dress up to come tonight.”

I nod mutely as I open the car door and let myself out. I feel I might be someone else as I walk into the house, someone who has a chance at whatever normal might be. But then who would I be? For a moment I am terrified that I will become Amelia and start nagging and screaming at everyone I meet. But no, there’s someone else, and I try to remember what happened to Alice.

chapter
TWENTY-FOUR

A Princess Story

F
aye looks up and greets me as soon as I come into the house. “Did you have fun, dear?” she asks eagerly. She looks comfortable in her chair with Juliet and Cheshire both curled in her lap. Her news show on the radio is just ending, and she reaches over to turn it off, looking back at me expectantly. Cheshire jumps from her lap and struts over to me, waving his tail like a flag as he rubs against my leg.

“I guess so.” I pick up my cat and sit down in the padded rocker and sigh. This is all I really need—a warm house, a cat, and a rocking chair. I think could live happily ever after just like this. I lean back and try to relax.

“Simon is such a nice boy.” She smiles. “Don’t you think?”

I nod. “Yes. Nice.”

“Did you meet Dr. Golden?”

I eye her curiously, wondering if this might not have been a setup after all. “He wasn’t there,” I answer.

“Too bad. He’s such a good man. I’ve gone up to his place with Simon before. I hear that his ideas in psychiatry are quite revolutionary.”

I study her and wonder what she is getting at, but she simply adjusts her glasses and picks up her knitting.

“Simon wants me to come to the Christmas party.” I say the words as if it’s a recording on an answering machine. I wait for her reaction.

“That’s nice, dear. When is that?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?”
Her knitting falls into her lap, and she looks at me as if I’ve just announced that the president is coming to visit. “Oh dear, you must start getting ready then.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a party, dear.” As if
that
explains everything.

I shrug.

“Well, you’ll have to, you know,
fix yourself up
.” She sets her knitting aside and gently nudges Juliet from her lap as she pushes herself to her feet. “Goodness, what will you wear?”

I look down at my jeans. “This, I guess.”

“No, no, no …” She shakes her head, but her expression is thoughtful. “No, I’m sure we can do much better than that.” She rubs her chin, then looks at the clock. “First off, we’ll have an early dinner. Can’t send you off with an empty tummy. Now, do you think you could manage to make us something, Alice?”

“I, uh, I guess so.” I’m not entirely sure about this, but after my success at decorating today, my confidence has increased a notch or two.

“Good. I’ll go through my closet and see what I can find for you. Then you’ll have to bathe, and we’ll fix your hair, and …” She claps her hands together now. “Oh this is going to be such fun. I just hope I can find my little camera.”

Suddenly I feel like it’s prom night, or perhaps I’m Cinderella. But in the next instant I imagine myself wearing old lady clothes, and my illusion pops like a bubble. Why should I care? It’s just a nut-house party anyway. I take Cheshire to the kitchen with me and ask him what I should fix for dinner. He suggests sardines, but I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. I open the fridge and the cupboards to view the groceries Faye bought today, and I finally decide on tuna fish sandwiches. I know it’s not very clever, but I hope that perhaps I can handle something this simple. Besides it was Cheshire’s second choice.

I open the can, then drain the juice from the tuna into the sink. So far so good. Then I mix the tuna with some mayonnaise and a little bit of celery that I chopped myself on the cutting board (now that was clever!). Then I spread this onto slices of whole wheat bread and add some fresh lettuce leaves before I cut these into diagonals and set them on a pretty blue plate. All in all, I am quite proud of my accomplishment. I hope that Faye will like it too. I am impressed that I actually used a knife without freaking out or even cutting myself. That is no small thing. I keep thinking I should fix something else to go with this but am not sure what. Finally I decide on bananas. I know this is not very fancy, but I think it makes for a healthy meal, and, besides, the colors look nice together.

Faye smiles when she sits at the table. I don’t know if it’s because of my culinary skills or whatever she’s concocting for me in her bedroom. I have imagined her back there, mysteriously stirring up some sort of magic potion that will make me beautiful, or perhaps she is spinning straw into a golden gown. I must admit she looks rather ordinary just now as she wears her lavender cardigan and bows her head to ask a blessing.

“Dear Father, we are so happy to be with you this evening. We thank you for this fine food that Alice has so lovingly prepared. And we pray that she and Simon will have a delightful evening at the Goldens’ Christmas party. Thank you so much for your love and mercy. Amen.”

I repeat her amen, and then we eat. I think that my tuna fish sandwich–making skills are first-rate, and Faye appears to agree.

“That was very good,” she says as she peels her banana. “You are a fine cook, Alice.”

“Thanks.”

I start to clean up, but she tells me to leave it. “Come and see what I have for you first.”

So I follow her to her bedroom, preparing myself for some bright polyester, floral-print dress, perhaps topped with one of her pastel cardigans and the gaudy costume jewelry she is so fond of wearing every day. I imagine myself going to the party as a colorful clown, and the image doesn’t even disturb me very much. It seems almost fitting.

As a result I’m completely unprepared for the magnificent gown lying across her pink chenille bedspread. Images of spinning hay into beautiful cloth suddenly seem quite believable. I stare in amazement at the fairy dress. The fabric is a silvery blue, some kind of satin or taffeta, where you can see two colors at once, kind of sparkly and magical. It has a smooth bodice with soft gathers of fabric around the neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves. The waist looks tiny with a long full skirt pouring out of it like an iridescent waterfall.

I am speechless at first but then manage to ask, “Where did you get this, Faye?” Right now, she could tell me that she waved her magic wand and pixies flew in and delivered it, and I wouldn’t doubt her.

She laughs. “From the back of my closet.”

“It’s too beautiful,” I say, stepping back. “I can’t possibly wear something so exquisite and—”

“Nonsense. You
must
wear it. The lonely little dress desperately needs to go to a party tonight.” She sighs happily. “And it’s full of good memories too. Do you know that the last time I wore it was at the Twilight Room right before George went to Korea? It was in December too. Fifty years ago.” She smiles dreamily. “Oh, I just know this is meant to be, Alice.”

I think I’m living in a dream as I bathe. The cat boxes are not so smelly tonight since I freshened them all just yesterday. One of my regular chores here is cat-box patrol, and I take my assignment seriously. But as I lie in the warm, violet-scented water, I imagine myself in the lovely room that I helped to decorate today. I pretend I am a fairy princess or Cinderella or even the prom queen, although I never went to a prom in high school or any other dances for that matter. Our conservative church would not condone such immorality. I wonder if I had my life to live over again, making my own choices about these things this time, would I have turned out any differently? Would I still be just as crazy? I remember that Simon thinks I’m not crazy. Of course, Simon doesn’t know everything.

I emerge from the tub and put on the flannel robe that Faye has loaned me during my visit. She said it was a Christmas gift from her sister but that she’s never been fond of the somber plaid colors. Too manly, she says. But I like it just fine. I tiptoe back to her bedroom where I hear her humming happily, and I decide that I must be Cinderella after all, and Faye is my fairy godmother. I wonder if Simon will show up in a pumpkin coach tonight.

“Sit down right here,” she commands when she sees me. “We’ll fix your hair first.”

I obey, sitting down at her old-fashioned dressing table. It has a glass top and a skirt of faded pink roses. I look into the mirror and pretend that I am not so pale and skinny and plain. I imagine that I am beautiful.

“You have lovely hair, Alice,” she comments as she fingers the curls. “With all your natural waves, it’ll be easy to make it look pretty. Now my hair was always straight as an arrow, so difficult to pin up nicely.”

I glance at her gray hair, curled within an inch of its life. “But it looks so curly now.”

She pats her head and smiles. “Perms. I get it done by Margie at Perfect Look every other month.” Then she begins to pile my hair on top, curling strands around her fingers and slipping in a hairpin here and there. I’m not sure if she really knows what she’s doing or not, but I decide I don’t care. Just the feeling of being touched, ever so gently, is so soothing and comforting that I wish she would go on and on for hours. But soon her hands stop moving, and I can tell she is done. I realize that my eyes have been closed, and I open them to see what she has created.

“That’s nice,” I say as I peer at my strange reflection.

She nods. “Very pretty, if I do say so.” Then she frowns. “Do you think we could put a little color on your face, Alice?”

“I, uh, I don’t know. What do you mean?”

“I thought just a little lipstick and perhaps a little pink in your cheeks.” She looks slightly embarrassed. “It might be nice.”

I feel bad for not trusting her. “Sure, Faye, I guess that’s okay. I’ve never been one to use makeup.”

She chuckles. “Well, in my day a girl didn’t go anywhere without her compact and lipstick.”

I close my eyes again, trying to breathe deeply and just relax. Even if Faye makes me look completely silly, who am I to complain? Once again, I notice how the physical attention is very comforting as I feel her applying something to my lips, then dabbing and rubbing my cheeks gently. Next she puts something soft and silky over my nose, cheeks, and chin. It has a gentle fragrance that reminds me of the smell of sheets that have been line dried. I suspect it is powder, but it feels so soft and smooth, I imagine it to be fairy dust.

“Lovely.” She seems to exhale the word.

I open my eyes and am relieved to see that I don’t look clownish at all. My skin actually looks more healthy, and although my mouth is brighter than usual, it is rather nice and certainly dramatic.

“What do you think?” she looks worried.

“Lovely.” I repeat her word just to reassure her.

She smiles. “Oh good.” Then she looks at the little clock by her bed. “Goodness, it’s nearly seven already. You better hurry and get dressed now.” She points out a half-slip and then hands me an exquisite pair of satin high-heel shoes in a matching shade of silver. “I know your feet are about the same size as mine are now,” she explains quickly. “But my feet were a bit smaller when I was younger. So these might be a little snug on you, but they went with this dress.” Then she nods to another pair of shoes on the floor. They are gold-toned flats and look a bit like old-lady bedroom slippers. “I know those slippers aren’t terribly fashionable, but you could go ahead and use them if these don’t work.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

I nod and look around me in amazement. I’m not sure I will know how to put this all together. And yet I am not even certain this isn’t a dream.

“Call me if you need help, dear.”

I get the slip and dress on okay but can’t figure out how to do the side zipper and tiny loops. I’m worried that I will tear the delicate fabric or that it will be too small. Finally I call for Faye, and she reappears like magic. I wonder if she might really be my fairy godmother after all, or else she was simply standing by the door.

Soon she has me all fastened up, and I manage to squeeze my feet into the shoes. “They’re a little snug,” I admit, “but not really uncomfortable.”

“They might stretch a bit,” she offers hopefully as she adjusts the sleeves below my shoulders. “You need a touch of jewelry. Of course I don’t have anything real, but I still have the necklace and earrings I wore with this gown.” She goes back to her dressing table and returns with some pale blue rhinestones.

“My ears aren’t pierced,” I tell her.

“Oh, don’t worry. Hardly anyone had pierced ears back in those days,” she says as she clips the earrings onto my ears. I arrange the necklace around my neck, and she hooks the clasp in back.