“What?” Simon turns and looks at me as if I said something.
“Huh?”
“Did you just say, ‘What’s wrong with this world?’ ”
I shrug again and pretend to study a display for baby diapers that are printed with little green elves that are supposed to turn red when the diaper needs to be changed. Too bad Mary didn’t have some of these with her in Bethlehem.
Simon laughs. “Hey, it’s okay. I think I know how you feel.”
I turn and study him closely. I want to say, “How on earth can you possibly know how I feel? You are normal! Whereas I, the crazy girl, am stuck on the other side of the looking glass!” I hope I did not say this. I really don’t think I did because he is still smiling at me and acting as if we two share some private little joke. Oh, if only he knew!
Finally Faye’s cart is nearly full, and she announces she is done. I sigh in relief and follow the two of them through the maze, presumably toward the cashiers. As we’re passing the life-size nativity again, for some reason this makes me stop, and I can’t take my eyes off that baby. I feel so sorry for him. I think I know how he feels because that’s how I feel too. I have been tossed into a strange and foreign world, like an orphan, a place where I will never fit in.
Then I look over at his mother, Mary, and I see the look of love in her eyes and think that perhaps it will be okay for him after all. Perhaps Mary will protect him and take care of him. Suddenly I remember how his story ends, and I shudder and step back. Pastor John loves to tell the story of how the cruel soldiers killed Jesus on the cross. How he was brutally beaten and how the nails were pounded through his flesh. I realize that poor little baby’s life is as hopeless and futile as my own.
“Go back,” I want to tell the baby. “Go back to heaven where you will be safe. Tell your father that earth is a bad place. Tell him that you don’t want to live here, that bad men are going to kill you if you stay.” I’m crying now. I can see that all is hopeless, and I wonder why people spend so much time and energy and money to celebrate a holiday that is all about death. What is wrong with this world?
“Alice?”
I turn and see Simon standing next to me. I wonder how long he’s been there and whether I’ve uttered these things aloud or simply shouted them within the confines of my troubled mind.
“Are you okay?” He reaches for my arm. “Faye is worried. She thought you were lost.”
I look him in the eye and say, “I am lost.”
“Hey, join the human race.” Then he kind of smiles and begins to guide me toward the front of the store, and I wonder what he means by that.
The human race is not so very human, I am thinking. Or maybe I mean humane. But what difference does it make anyway? Hopefully, I didn’t say this though. At least, I don’t think I said this. I press my lips together and wonder how difficult it would be to contract lockjaw as I allow Simon to lead me over to where Faye is now standing with a cart full of bagged groceries near the exits. She looks relieved to see us, and tired.
“Alice, dear, I thought we’d lost you.”
I apologize for dawdling but am really thinking, You have no idea how lost I am. Maybe I say this aloud, maybe not.
Simon pauses by the door as he drops some money in the red Salvation Army pot, and the old bell ringer smiles happily and thanks him. I think I have seen that bell ringer at the mission before, only he wasn’t nearly as sober as he appears to be today. I wonder what Simon would think if he knew that I used to hang out with people like that or that I plan to again. It’s weird actually, because I almost miss the streets right now. It’s almost as if life makes more sense out there than it does in super shopping centers like this.
Simon and I carry all the groceries into the house. Both of us seem to sense that Faye is worn out from her shopping excursion. I urge her to sit down in her comfy chair, assuring her that I can put the groceries away, although I am not sure if I will get them in their proper places. What if I put the eggs in the oven?
Simon offers to help, and I do not reject his assistance. He seems to be neither pushy nor proud as he puts things away, and he certainly doesn’t appear to be the least bit controlling as he makes every effort to stay out of my way. I suppose I am almost beginning to trust him, although I must admit this scares me quite a bit. For already I can hear Amelia’s familiar warning to “Trust no one!” Fortunately she seems to be lying low at the moment.
Finally we are done, and I think he will leave.
“I noticed some leftover chicken soup in there,” he says as he closes the fridge. “Should we heat some up for Faye?”
I suspect it must be well past lunchtime now, and I know that Faye is pretty worn out, so as much as I am ready to have Simon leave, I agree. He seems to be comfortable turning on the stove and setting the pan on it to heat. I try my best to set the table, and I think I get it right, and Simon doesn’t tell me otherwise. I even remember to get out some saltine crackers. It seems like soup and crackers go together. How nice for them to be part of a couple.
Finally all is ready, and I go to tell Faye. She looks a little better now and seems delighted that the two of us thought to fix lunch. “There’s a jar of peaches in the pantry,” she tells me. “I think that would go nicely with the soup, don’t you?”
I quickly locate the peaches and manage to open the jar without help. Then we all sit down, and Faye asks Simon if he would like to pray. He agrees, and to my surprise he prays in a way that is surprisingly familiar. I realize that his way of praying is a lot like his aunt’s. I wonder if it runs in their family.
Just as we are finishing our lunch, Simon speaks up. “Hey, what are you doing this afternoon, Alice?”
I shrug and look away.
“I thought maybe you’d like to help me decorate for the Christmas party.”
I glance nervously at him, wondering what on earth ever gave him this absurd idea, but before I can even make a plausible excuse, Faye jumps in. “What a lovely idea, Simon. I’m sure that Alice would be happy to help you. Wouldn’t you, Alice?”
“I, uh, I don’t know much about decorating for parties …” This is absolutely true since our church didn’t believe in decorating for or celebrating any holiday.
“That’s okay. I just need someone who’s willing to work hard,” says Simon as if it’s settled. “You ready?”
“But, I, uh, I should stay and clean up—”
“Nonsense.” Faye waves her hand. “You two did such a nice job with lunch. I can easily clean this up myself. You go with Simon, Alice. You two kids will have fun.”
“But I—”
Faye stands now. “We won’t take no for an answer, will we, Simon?” She looks firmly at me, then smiles. “It’s settled.”
That is how I find myself sitting in, not the hairy backseat with the sleek blond cat, but the front seat, next to Simon. I have no idea where he is taking me or what he plans to do to me, but I am extremely worried. He’s driving up a hill because I can hear his engine whirring, and I know we are just slightly out of town because I can still see the city lights in the gray fog below us. But I also know there could be no place up here that needs to be decorated for Christmas. Why did I ever fall for this? I guess I’m just hopelessly stupid when it comes to these things. I’m dismayed that Faye would betray me like this, but then I should’ve seen it coming. Three days for company and fish—time to either fry them up or throw them out. It’s clear she is throwing me out. I wish I’d left on all my layers of clothes.
So it seems I have made a very big mistake and been duped again. How is it that I am so easily tricked? I am certain I will never see Faye or my dear Cheshire Cat again. Of course, Amelia is sitting in the backseat now and shrieking at me. I am surprised Simon can’t hear her, but he seems oblivious as he drives merrily along this twisting road that is engulfed by towering and sinister looking evergreen trees. Amelia is cussing at me, using such vulgar profanity that I am actually blushing.
Each time Simon slows
down for a curve, she tells me to open the door and leap from the car. When I don’t, because I am too scared and because a part of me doesn’t want to, she rewards me by calling me more names. For the most part, I must agree with her. I am a stupid, ignorant moron and then some. Oh, how do I get myself into these messes?
chapter TWENTY-THREE
Simon Says
As Simon drives up the hill, I try to calm myself by pretending that we are just playing a game, convincing myself that none of this is real. I hope this will help shush Amelia’s irksome heckling. My game is like Simon says, and this is how it goes. Whatever Simon does or says, I decide that I will simply imitate him. Then perhaps I will appear normal, and it will go well for me. If not, well, maybe I can make a fast break and get away before he notices.
“They say it might snow,” Simon says as he slows down for another curve.
I nod. “Looks like it could snow.”
“It’d be fun to have a white Christmas. I don’t think we’ve had one in years.”
I shake my head. “A white Christmas? Not in years.”
He glances at me with what appears to be suspicion, and I wonder if I should think about jumping now.
“Are you nervous?” he asks.
“Nervous?” I echo.
“About being with me?”
I look at him and wonder how I could possibly explain all the various thoughts and feelings and voices that are continually pummeling my mind. Then I remember my game. “Are you nervous about being with me?” I stare at him now, wondering if I might actually be able to turn the tables and make him uncomfortable for a change.
He chuckles. “No, you don’t make me nervous.”
I sit up straighter. “Well, you don’t make me nervous either.” I notice he’s slowed to a stop now, and I turn to see that we’re passing some sort of a wrought-iron gate. On closer look, it appears to be some kind of security fence! My heart pounds within my chest like the Saab’s engine straining up the last hill we just crossed. Not again!
“What’s going on?” I reach for the door handle, but it’s too late. He’s already inside, and the gates are closing behind us. Why, it’s like they were expecting him! I fumble to undo my seat belt and move closer to the door, grabbing the handle, ready to bolt.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as he continues to drive toward a tall brick building that looks much too large to be a private home. He’s only going about fifteen miles per hour; I’m sure I could easily survive the fall.
“Where are you taking me?” I think I might actually be shrieking now, but I no longer care about games or pretense. He stops the car in the middle of the driveway and turns to look at me.
“This is the Golden Home,” he explains in a calm voice. “It’s where I work. I intern here with Dr. Golden, and I was supposed to come up here to help his wife decorate for the—”
“But why are you bringing me here?” I demand as tears fill my eyes.
“To help me.” He looks slightly hurt. “Did you think I was bringing you up here for some other reason?”
I glare at him. “I know you’re trying to get me away from your aunt. My mother probably called you and told you I’m crazy. Or maybe it was Mrs. Knoll telling you that I’m possessed, or Pastor John or—”
Simon reaches over and puts his hand on my arm. “Look, Alice. I suspected that you might be dealing with some, uh, problems. But that is not why I brought you up here. Honest. I work here. And I need to help get the place decorated before the party tonight.” He looks me in the eyes now, and I notice that he has long, dark eyelashes behind his thick lenses. “I just thought you might enjoy getting out of Faye’s little feline house and doing something different for a change.”
I take in a deep breath and tell myself that perhaps I’m overreacting, that perhaps Simon can be trusted, but even so I don’t believe a word of it.
“You fool!” shrieks Amelia, and I cringe and slump down in the seat.
“Are you okay?”
I just shrug, wondering who is really worse, Simon or Amelia? Maybe I should just take my chances. “I guess so.”
He puts his car back into Drive and proceeds toward the building. “I promise you, Alice, I’ll take you straight home as soon as we’re done. With your help it should take only a couple of hours. Julie is going to help too. She’s Dr. Golden’s wife, and she’s really nice. I think you’ll like her.”
I just roll my eyes and shake my head. I want to say “whatever” but know that will sound childish and immature. Yet a part of me doesn’t even care anymore. I figure if I’m so stupid that I don’t know who can and cannot be trusted—whether it’s Faye or Simon, who both seem to have betrayed me, or even Amelia, who’s always yelling at me—well, then maybe I deserve to be locked up.
He parks the car and waits for me to get out. Finally I do, telling myself just to keep playing the stupid game. Simon says, Simon says … if I do as he says, maybe it will go better for me.
We enter some sort of foyer or lobby with marble floors the color of fresh butter and a large circular rug with a geometric pattern in the center. Several comfortable looking chairs are arranged in a corner, next to some large potted plants, and there are windows all around.
“You’re here,” calls a woman’s voice. We are met by a tall brunette who appears to be in her forties, but she’s not wearing a uniform. “And you brought help. Great.”
“This is Alice, Julie.”
She smiles and shakes my hand, and I manage to say something that sounds vaguely like a greeting, although I can’t be sure. But the whole time I am looking over her shoulder, expecting a burly orderly to appear—someone who will help to subdue me, perhaps aided by a nurse who will pull out a hypodermic needle and give me a shot in the rump. Then together they will get me safely locked in my padded cell. But no such persons appear.
Instead we are led into a spacious and well-lit room with wooden floors that glow with a warm golden finish. Large, expensive-looking Oriental carpets are placed here and there, and, as in the lobby, a number of potted plants stand guard along the bay of tall windows. At one end of the room is a large rock fireplace with a carved wooden mantel. Next to the fireplace is a huge evergreen tree that goes nearly to the top of the open-beamed ceiling, which I guess to be at least fifteen feet. Next to the tree is a ladder, and it appears that someone has already been putting on a string of lights.
Several chairs and sofas have been nicely arranged into small groupings, sort of like you’d see in a ritzy hotel. Four wooden tables with upholstered chairs wait nearby, as if they’re inviting you to sit down and play a game of cards. A couple of these tables have large plastic crates on top.
“I had Jack bring the decorations down earlier this morning,” explains Julie. “I don’t know why he planned the trip to the zoo today. He knows that we usually decorate the party with everyone here, and—”
“It’s my fault,” says Simon. “A friend of mine who works at the zoo offered us these free passes, and I took him up on it. I totally forgot about the date of the party.”
She smiles. “Well, that’s okay. Everyone was so excited about the trip. Did you hear that Andora just had her baby?”
“The elephant?” I ask, amazed that I can remember this bit of trivia, but I think I recall hearing something about it on Faye’s radio news the other day.
“Yes.” Julie nods as she opens a box. “It’s a boy. I can’t remember his name, but they say he’s healthy and doing fine.”
Before long, it is just as Simon has promised, and I am helping him decorate for what appears to be an honest-to-goodness Christmas party. I feel a bit guilty for my overreaction, but I’m still not convinced this isn’t just an elaborate setup for my benefit.
“I’m so glad you brought help along,” says Julie as she pulls out a long strand of gold tinsel. “I’m already short-handed in the kitchen today, and there’s still so much to be done.”
“Don’t worry. We can handle it out here,” Simon says. The
n he winks at me as I open a box of shiny red glass balls. “I have a feeling that Alice is pretty good at this decorating business.”
“Great. As you can see, I’ve got the lights pretty much on.”
“Cool. We’ll take it from here.”
She smiles. “Then I’ll get back to the kitchen.”
Like a little kid on Christmas morning, I open box after box of pretty ornaments and decorations. I actually squeal with delight a couple of times, and I love arranging the glass balls so that they are spaced adequately apart. I find a box that’s filled with big red candles and ribbons and artificial greenery and ask Simon if he thinks I should do something on the mantel. I recall an arrangement that I saw in a magazine once.
“Go for it!” he says with a grin. “I’m not really very good at this myself. I’m mostly up here out of guilt because of the zoo trip.”
“Who are the people—I mean the ones who went to the zoo?”
“The residents.”
“Residents?” I’m playing the game again.
“Yeah. This is a treatment center for the psychologically challenged.”
“Psychologically challenged?” I frown as I set a red candle in the center of the mantel, then step back to see how it looks.
“Dr. Golden doesn’t use words like disease or illness or disorder. You know what I mean?”
I don’t answer him. Instead I pretend that I’m focusing my full attention on setting more candles along the mantel. Still, I wonder what he means. I remember how Dr. Thornton made such a point of telling me I had a sickness. He said I had to accept my illness as a disability in order to get better.
“Dr. Golden feels that we all must play a role in getting ourselves healthy, and he runs this place with the goal of teaching people how to handle their challenges in positive ways. In other words, he gives his patients the tools they need to live independent and successful lives.”
Back at the box for greenery now, I hear what Simon is saying, and while I don’t understand everything, what I do understand sounds too good to be true. Naturally, this worries me. I try not to let on as I drape the artificial greens around the candles on the mantel. Then I lace the pretty silk ribbon in and out and get completely caught up in my creation. I suspect that Simon is speaking to me again, but I am unable to focus on him or hear his words. I don’t want to. Before long he seems to be caught up in hanging his long strands of tinsel around the tree. This is a relief. I go back to the boxes and find a few odd ornaments that I now stick here and there beside the candles. One small porcelain angel really captures my attention, and I place this close to the center, then step back to look.
Finding Alice Page 16