Finding Alice (26 page)

“You need to get out of here before it’s too late, Alice.”

Without even acknowledging her presence, I slowly stand up, keeping one hand on the bed and the other on the bedside table. I take another slow breath and attempt to steady myself, but the room is spinning around now. I try to adjust myself to the motion, but this only makes it worse. The next thing I know I am lying flat on my face on the cold vinyl floor, and every inch of my body is aching and throbbing from the fall. I am such a fool.

“What is going on here?” demands a loud voice from behind me. I can tell that it’s Stacy, my favorite nurse, the one who reminds me of Whoopi Goldberg. I painfully turn my head and look up to see her peering down at me with a concerned scowl. I am ashamed,
like a small child who’s been caught in an act of disobedience. I feel especially bad since she has been so good to me, and it almost seems that she really cares about me as a person as much as a patient.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter as she and another nurse help me to my feet and then back into my bed.

“I know you hate that bedpan, Alice,” scolds Stacy, “but you should really buzz us if you need to go potty.”

I decide to play along. “I hated to bother you,” I say as I lean back into my pillow.

“You want me to get the bedpan?” asks the other nurse.

“No,” I say quickly. “I don’t need to go now.”

“You sure?” Stacy peers down at me with piercing eyes.

“Yeah. Right now everything hurts too much to move. I’ll let you know later.”

“Okay.” She tucks the blanket around me. “I hear you’ve got a young man down the hallway who wants to come over and visit you.”

“Simon?”

She nods. “He’s a good-looking one, too. Well, other than all the bruises he’s wearing. You two sure must’ve taken a tumble. Just like Jack and Jill.”

“Huh?”

“You know, Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after. Only you’re the one who broke your crown, and Jack has a broken leg and wrist, and Lord only knows what else.”

This is the first I’ve heard of Simon’s specific injuries, and I am sorry for him. “But he’s doing okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, he and you both seem to be making a miraculous recovery.
Simon says it’s because God is looking out for you, and I’m sure he must be right about that.”

“I guess that might be true, but doesn’t it make you wonder why God let us have the wreck in the first place?”

Stacy laughs at this. “Now, don’t you go blaming God for
all
your troubles, Alice. God gave every single one of us a free will, and people make choices that can get them into trouble. Like driving on curvy, hilly streets that are covered in ice. That’s pretty dangerous, if you ask me.”

I wonder once again just how this is my fault. What is it that makes me so certain of this? But somehow I am. I try to recall if I said or did something that night. Did I act crazy and somehow distract Simon? Did I freak out and cause him to lose control of the car? I just can’t remember the details at all.

“Anyway, it looks like the doctor is letting Simon out of traction today, and, boy, is he eager to get himself into a wheelchair and go visiting.” Stacy winks at me. “You might want to fix up that hair of yours. After all, it is New Year’s Day.”

I don’t say anything. I’m just thinking, I’ve got to get myself out of here—and soon! I don’t want Simon to come see me, and besides that I don’t want my mom showing up with all her church friends in tow. I am more trapped than ever.

“Alice?”

I look back up to see Stacy standing with a brush and a hand mirror. I can tell she was talking to me, but I didn’t hear her. “Huh?” I say.

“I said, ‘Do you want to spruce up a little?’ ” She smiles coyly. “In case you get a visitor?”

I shrug but take the mirror and the brush anyway.

“There should be some lip balm in your things here,” she says as she busies herself looking through the drawer. “And some lotion, too.”

I hold up the mirror and look at my face. But it takes me a moment to focus, and then I think I’ve made a mistake. I think I am looking at a photo of someone else. A monster or a Halloween mask. Then I realize by my gray blue eyes that it is me. I haven’t seen myself since the accident, and I am shocked at what I see now. My hand begins to shake, and I am horrified. I do not recognize this person. She looks like the so-called bride of Frankenstein, only worse. Way worse. My nose is swollen and discolored. There are dark mustard-colored circles around both eyes. One cheek is purple and puffy; the other is yellow and scraped. The worst part is the ugly red scar that runs diagonally across the length of my forehead. Also, part of my hair is shaved on the left side.

Stacy hears me gasp and comes to my side. “Now, don’t worry, honey. The black eyes are almost gone now, and that scar on your forehead can be fixed with plastic surgery, or you can wear bangs.” She studies my face. “Yeah, I think you’d look cute in bangs. Want me to get the scissors and cut you some?”

I just stare at the mirror in horror. I wonder what else about my life can go wrong. I’ve lost so much already. I’ve lost my mind, my apartment, my schooling, my family, and now my face. I wonder what more I can lose. And will I ever find myself again? I set down the mirror and just stare at Stacy. I can feel the tears coming down my multicolored cheeks, but I say nothing.

Gently she begins to brush my hair, speaking to me in a soothing voice, telling me that everything’s going to be okay. I wish I could
believe her, but I know it’s not true. For me it seems there is only one way for things to go. Steadily downhill.

I remember telling Stacy she could cut my bangs, and so I sit and stare blankly at the wall as she begins. For all I care, she can shave my entire head if she wants to. Perhaps she will. Then she gently applies the lip balm to my chapped lips and smoothes some lotion on my hands and face and says, “There now,” as if she has made everything better.

I hand her back the mirror. “Here,” I say in a flat voice. “I don’t need this anymore.”

I try to remember who I am as I sit in the hospital bed. I wish I could return to that quiet white place where all was peace and rest. I wonder how I ever found my way there in the first place. Was it a result of the head injury, the coma? Or perhaps the near-death experience brought it on? And I wonder, if that was a sample of what death will be like, well, then why not hurry the whole process along a bit?

I look out the window to a wet gray world of cement buildings. I suspect that I’m in the hospital just down the road from where Simon’s car was wrecked, but I don’t know this for sure. I’ve never bothered to ask anyone.

I’m guessing that the river is down there somewhere and that the big bridge, the one that calls me by name, is still waiting for our little appointment. Such a patient old bridge. I wonder how long it would take me to walk down there in my condition. Several days? A week perhaps? A month? I guess the bridge will have to wait awhile longer.

“Don’t put it off too long,” whispers Amelia. “You’ve seen what can happen when you delay these things.”

I close my eyes and pretend she’s not there. I tell myself it’s only my imagination again. But as usual I don’t believe me.

Take me away, I cry. I’m not sure if I’m thinking or speaking, but I know I am pleading. Perhaps I am even praying. Please, take me away.

I am with you always. Even until the end of time
.

chapter
TWENTY-EIGHT

Ties that Bind

I
must’ve dozed off, but I sense her presence as soon as I am barely awake. I can actually smell her, something like floral soap and Jergens lotion, but I’m afraid to open my eyes and see her, and even more afraid that she is not alone. I lie as still as a stone and will myself back to sleep, believing I can escape all this. Perhaps she will think I’ve gone back into a coma, and she will go away, taking her evil friends with her.

Finally I open one eye and peek through my eyelashes. My mother is standing right next to my bed, peering down at me with watery eyes.

“Alice?”

It’s too late for my little possum routine. She can tell I’m awake now. Slowly I open the other eye and then peer around the room until I see my brother, Aaron. He fills the entire doorway with his bulky athletic frame but looks uneasy. I think I know how he feels. I continue looking around, but Mom and Aaron appear to be the only ones here. This is something of a relief. Although I realize there
could still be others hiding around the corner, lurking in the hallway perhaps. I wouldn’t put it past them. It’s entirely possible the whole fanatical congregation is out there right now, just waiting to pounce on me and begin their exorcist act all over again. I imagine my head spinning around in circles as Pastor John raises his hands and shouts in a tremulous voice.

I push the button to raise my bed so I can be more upright and hopefully appear more grown-up and even in control of this awkward situation. This rationale is ridiculous, but it’s all I have at the moment.

“Hi, Mom,” I say in a timid voice. I remind myself of a mouse with its tail in the trap. Then I turn to Aaron and attempt a smile. “Hey, Bro.”

He comes over next to Mom now and stands there with his large hands hanging loosely by his sides. He feels big and clumsy and useless. I can see it in his eyes that dart all around the small room, uneasy, unwilling to meet my gaze.

“Thanks for coming,” I tell them. Disarm them with the friendly routine, or so I hope. Perhaps I can convince Mom not to send me back to Forest Hills or call in the church troops if I can only act normal enough.

“Why didn’t you call us?” my mom begins. I suspect it will go downhill from here on out.

“How are you feeling?” asks Aaron. I wonder if he’s trying to help me out by changing the subject.

Ignoring Mom’s unanswerable question, I focus my attention on my brother. “I’ve felt better.”

“Yeah, you look—” He stops himself and glances uneasily at
Mom. I know what he was about to say, but somehow this ingratiates him to me. I smile at him again, sincerely this time. My mom switches her handbag to the other hand and sighs loudly.

“I know,” I continue, directing my words toward Aaron. “I try to avoid mirrors these days.”

“I missed you at Christmas,” he says. “I even got you a present.”

“Really?” Now this fascinates me since no holidays are ever celebrated at our house—it’s against the church’s rules. We never exchange presents or practice any of the other holiday traditions that the rest of the civilized world seems to enjoy.

“We even put up a tree,” he continues. His eyes seem almost childlike.

“No way.”

He nods, and the glint in his eyes reminds me of the time he sneaked a frog into his bedroom and swore me to secrecy.

I turn and peer at Mom with open suspicion. “Is that true?”

Mom nods without speaking, and yet she seems slightly frightened as her eyes dart to the door, almost as if she thinks someone might be listening in. Someone from the church, I suspect. I wonder if she’s telling the truth even now. Perhaps this is a trick to make me trust them.

“Mom’s not going to Salvation Center anymore.” Aaron announces this in a way that might almost suggest our mother has just given up a serious heroin habit. He looks that proud.

“You’re kidding!” First I look at Aaron and then back at Mom. A mixture of doubt and astonishment come over me, and I’m not sure I can believe either one of them anymore. This is all just too fantastic. I wonder what they’re really up to now. I’m certain they’re trying
to pull something over on me, an attempt to gain my trust before they whip the rug out from beneath me again.

“Is that really true, Mom? You’ve honestly quit the church?”

She looks down at the floor and presses her lips together. She looks as if she contains some dark secret. “Yes, it’s true, Alice.”

“But how?” I study her face, unconvinced. “You’ve gone there for … forever.”

“Not forever, Alice. Your father and I joined when you were a baby.”

“That’s forever to me. But really, Mom, what’s going on?”

“Something happened to me, Alice. It wasn’t long after we took you up to Forest Hills.” She shakes her head. “I really regret that day. But later in that week, Pastor John had me come to the church, for a session, you know …”

I nod, knowing full well what a Salvation Center
session
is all about. Personally, I would rather be locked up in the Queen’s Prison.

“Pastor John and the others just kept telling me that we’d invited this evil into our home by sinning. How it was wrong for you kids to be going to secular schools and how it’s all my fault that you’d become demonized. They wanted to do a cleansing on me and the house and you kids as well. It went on and on until something in me just completely snapped. I couldn’t take it anymore, Alice.” Tears stream down her face now, and my brother steps over and places a protective hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him and smiles with a quivering chin. Then she turns back to me with a look of pure determination in her watery eyes. “It was in that moment that I knew I had to get out. I felt that the church was killing me, probably killing you kids, too. Suddenly it was as if everything about that
place seemed twisted and … and evil.” She opens her handbag and pulls out a handkerchief and dabs her eyes.

“So you just walked out? Just like that? You didn’t let them do the cleansing?” I struggle to imagine my soft-spoken mother standing up to the church leadership like that.

She shakes her head no. “I told them I’d had enough and to leave me alone. Then I went home. I was so scared that I locked the doors and took the phone off the hook. I didn’t know what to do. It’s not as if I wanted to turn my back on God.
Just those people
.”

I’m not sure what to say. It’s not that I don’t believe her, but it’s just so incredible. I glance over at Aaron and can tell by his expression that he’s buying all this. I wonder what makes me such a skeptic. “So then what happened?” I ask.

“I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared and distraught that I got down on my knees, and I prayed, but I didn’t pray a church prayer. Instead I just said how I honestly felt—about the church and what had happened to you and just everything. I guess you could say I poured my heart out to God. When I finally finished, it seemed crystal clear that everything at Salvation Center is all wrong—well, for me anyway. I guess I can’t really judge for anyone else. But it’s as if a little light bulb went on in my head, and I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that I needed to leave Salvation Center for good.” She sighs now, and her speech does sound believable.