“Are you enjoying yourself?”
I jump, then turn to see Dr. Golden. He is drinking a glass of red wine. And that just seems to cinch it for me. What kind of honest-to-goodness psychiatric clinic would actually serve alcohol to patients? I mean, really! Although I do recall overhearing Dr. Golden speaking to a young woman earlier—I believe her name was Maddie—and reminding her to have only one glass since she was on meds. Still, it could all be part of this great big act.
“I guess so,” I answer, avoiding his gaze, hoping he’ll go away. His attention makes me even more nervous.
“Meaning you’re not sure?”
I look him in the eye now, ready to try to discern whether this guy is for real or not. “No, I guess I’m not sure.”
“Why is that?”
I glance around the room, then press my lips together as I shake my head. “I find this all a little hard to believe.”
“To believe?”
Now I am slightly concerned that I might get Simon into trouble with my suspicions, but then if this guy is really a fake, Simon should find out about it. Or maybe he already knows.
“Okay,” I tell Dr. Golden in a conspirator’s voice. “I am going to play it straight with you. I’ve been in a, uh, well, a psychiatric institution before. And let me tell you, it was nothing like this.”
He nods, his expression intense, as if he’s listening closely.
“So all I want to know is, did you set up this whole Christmas party just to trick me?”
He laughs now but not in a mean way. At least I don’t think so—and this surprises me. Of course, he’s very handsome; he could be an actor too. He puts his hand on my shoulder now, as if to be conciliatory. It feels warm against my bare skin, but I move away from him just the same. I refuse to be pulled in.
“Alice, Alice, Alice,” he says, and I wonder if he’s condescending to me now. “Do you honestly think we are setting you up for something?”
I point my finger at him. I know this is incredibly rude, but I just can’t help myself. I am thinking, See, this is it—he is the King of Hearts. I was right! It’s all beginning to make sense now.
“That’s it!” I say triumphantly. “You are. You are totally setting me up.”
He nods. “And what am I setting you up for?”
I glance over my shoulder now, expecting the white lab coats to come at me any moment. But they are still out of sight. “Well, I’ll admit you’re really good. And I was sort of fooled at first, what with the decorating and Julie being so nice, and, of course, Simon is quite believable. But now it’s clear what your game is.”
“And that is?”
“Pastor John.” I state this like it’s a fact. “He has arranged all this”—I wave my hand—“just to show that it’s all my fault. That I am a sinner, and this is what I get. He’s using the decorations, the dancing, the wine … Everything is just an elaborate scheme to set me up.”
“And why would he do that?”
I think about this for a moment. Suddenly I am unsure. I question myself. Then it hits me. “To prove that he is right. Because Pastor John is always right, you know. He has to be right.”
The King of Hearts frowns now. “That’s too bad.”
“What?”
“That anyone would ever feel they always have to be right.”
“Don’t you?”
“Goodness no.” He shakes his head. “Just ask my wife.”
“Oh.” Somehow his answer rattles me a bit, and suddenly I feel stupid and wonder if I’m just imagining this whole thing. I look down at the silver shoes that are growing tighter by the second. Could they be shrinking? “Do you think anyone would mind if I take off my shoes?” I ask, instantly wishing I hadn’t.
He laughs. “Not at all. Make yourself comfortable.”
I slip off my shoes and hold them in one hand slightly behind my back. I am confused now and slightly repentant. “I’m sorry if I said anything out of line,” I say quickly. “I know I have a problem with that sort of thing. That and imagining things. I might have imagined that you were the King of Hearts.”
“The King of Hearts?” He looks amused.
I put my hand over my mouth. “Did I say that?”
He nods but doesn’t seem angry. This surprises me.
“See. That’s what I mean. I suppose it’s true. I suppose I am crazy. Do you have some orderlies that are ready to escort me to the Queen’s Prison now?”
This makes him laugh out loud, and I’m afraid we are gathering attention. I must appear childish to him, ridiculous even.
“How’s it going, princess?” Simon joins us now, and I think I have some explaining to do.
I glance over at the King of Hearts—I mean Dr. Golden—then back to Simon. “I think I’ve been insulting your boss.”
Simon frowns. “Why?”
“Don’t worry,” says Dr. Golden. “I think Alice is very amusing and creative.” He smiles. “Not to mention perfectly stunning in that gown. She can insult me as much as she likes.”
I think I am blushing now.
Simon laughs. “Well, Alice and I have been discussing how being normal is highly overrated.”
I turn to Simon and glare. “That’s easy enough for you to say. I would give anything to be normal!” I want to turn and leave now, stamp away in my bare feet, but I don’t know where to go. The bathroom perhaps?
“Really?” says Dr. Golden. “You would give anything to be normal?”
I suspect I am being teased now, but I don’t think I even care. I can tell I’m in way over my head anyway. It’s like I try to cover up who I really am, and that gets me nowhere. Then I try to be honest, and it makes no difference. What does it really matter in the end?
“Yes,” I say to Dr. Golden. “I’m sure I would give anything. I am tired of being afraid, tired of looking over my shoulder, tired of living on—” I stop myself from saying “the streets” and glance nervously at Simon. I am fairly certain I might be back on the streets after he talks to his aunt about my bizarre behavior tonight. As I recall, though, I was almost back on the streets this morning anyway. At the moment I can’t even remember what stopped me from going.
“Okay, Alice, let me guess exactly what’s going on with you.”
I shrug. Why should I care?
“You were diagnosed with schizophrenia, possibly paranoia, too. You were put into a psychiatric hospital where the staff’s main goal was to convince you that you were crazy. And then they medicated you. Probably heavily. Right?”
I nod, now more certain than ever that he is connected with Pastor John and Mrs. Knolls and Dr. Thornton and my mother. It’s only a matter of time until I will be transported back to Forest Hills and taken to the Queen’s Prison, where they will lock me up and throw away the key for good.
“Somehow you escaped that place, but you were afraid to go home, and you wound up living on the streets here in the city. Right?”
I shrug again. Why should I be surprised? He probably has my file sitting on his desk right now.
“Is that true?” asks Simon, his brow creased with concern.
“Didn’t you know?”
He shakes his head. “I knew something was wrong. I didn’t know it was that.”
But the way he says “that” worries me. I feel I’ve hurt him, betrayed him somehow. And yet at the same time I think he’s betrayed me, too. I don’t know why I ever trusted him in the first place. I am so incredibly stupid.
“So …” I hold out my wrists as if I expect them to handcuff me and cart me off. “You want to lock me up now?”
Dr. Golden laughs. “That’s not how it works here.”
I glance over at Simon. “How about you? Did you call my mother and Pastor John? Are they waiting outside with Mrs. Knoll, ready to wrestle me to the ground and tie me up and—”
Simon gently puts his hand over my mouth to shush me, and then he speaks quietly, calmly. “No, Alice. Honestly, we aren’t going to do anything like that. We’re
just having a Christmas party. Nothing more. I promise you. Just trust me.”
I frown at him, bewildered by his believability. I turn to Dr. Golden and feel even more confused. “Really?” I ask him. “You guys honestly don’t plan to lock me up?”
He chuckles. “No, but I can put you on our waiting list if you like.”
“Waiting list?”
“For residency,” Simon explains. “Dr. Golden’s clinic is becoming so well known that people from all over the country are signing up. I think there’s about a year’s wait right now.” He turns to Dr. Golden. “Right?”
“At least. Julie knows more about that than I do.” He leans toward me and peers into my eyes now. “So, Alice, can you trust us that we simply invited you here to eat, drink, and be merry?”
“For tomorrow I shall die?” I ask.
This makes Dr. Golden laugh again. Then he takes me by the hand and leads me over to the dance area. He is a very good dancer, and for a few minutes I forget every stupid word I’ve said. I notice Simon dancing with Julie and am surprised to feel a small wave of jealousy ripple through me. Then I focus myself on the steps, the music, the moves, and everything else becomes a pleasant blur. When the song ends, I thank Dr. Golden, and we switch partners for the next dance. I am more comfortable dancing with Simon. It’s like we move at the same speed.
After a couple more dances, Simon convinces me that the food is neither poisoned nor drugged, and I discover that it’s really quite tasty. I visit with Maddie, the artist, and find that she’s been to a variety of clinics, but this is the first time she’s experienced real success with her treatment.
“It’s because I am finally taking control of things myself,” she explains. “I’m on medication but not so much that I can’t think clearly. And then I work to focus my mind on what’s true and right and good.” She smiles. “You know that’s actually a Bible verse?”
I don’t think she knows what she’s talking about since I was raised on Bible verses, but I know better than to contradict her. Besides, I suspect I’ve done enough of that for one night anyway.
And so I pass the rest of a surprisingly pleasurable evening by dancing and eating and visiting. I don’t feel that I’m at a nut-house party but that I’m with instant friends. I suppose it’s possible I’m being duped again, but somehow I don’t think so.
When it’s finally time to leave, I go over to where Julie and Dr. Golden are standing by the fireplace. “Thank you for a nice evening,” I tell them both. Then I turn to Dr. Golden. “And I really am sorry if I sounded rude or terribly suspicious earlier.” I shake my head. “I guess it just comes with the territory.”
He grins and takes my hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “No problem, Alice. Believe me, we’re used to that around here.”
Julie laughs. “You have no idea.”
I almost ask about getting my name put on their waiting list but think better of this. I’m still not completely convinced. Besides, a year is a long ways off. Anything can happen by then.
I am almost relaxed as Simon drives us home. I lean back in the seat and listen to the jazz music playing softly on the radio. I close my eyes as my fingers caress the silky fur of the beaver coat, and I sigh deeply. Dancing at the Twilight Room was pure magic tonight. I wonder why we don’t do this more often. The music, the lights, the laughter. Oh, it’s so unfair there’s a war going on. I do hope my beloved can return to me unscathed. But how will we ever endure the separation?
And then something happens. At first I think I’m imagining it, but then I sense the car moving sideways across the road. Then we are going backward, fast, and now we are spinning. It’s just like my carnival ride fantasy, only this is for real!
I hear myself screaming, and I look to see Simon’s face pale and drawn as he tries to control the car on the icy pavement. But it’s too late. We leave the road and careen down the steep hillside. I see the foggy city lights spinning in a blurry circle, and I know I’m going to die tonight. I’m sorry to think that Faye’s lovely dress will be ruined. Then I remember how she said my Father was the King of kings and that I am a princess. I think I am calling out to him now. I believe I am asking him to help me, to save me! Then all is black and silent.
chapter TWENTY-SIX
Another Rabbit Hole
I am not sure how I got here, but I feel myself falling down, down, down. Another dark rabbit hole seems to have swallowed me again. As usual I have no control over anything. Not a single thing. I see them clearly as I fall. I see my brother, Aaron, except that he is still a child, sitting in the corner with his shoulders hunched forward, his face to the wall. Been naughty again, little bro? Then I see my mother wringing her hands, her blue eyes filled with tears. Are they real, Mother? Are they for me? She does not answer but simply drifts away. I see my father, dressed in white robes, like an angel or a choirboy. When I get close enough to see his face, it is dark and sad. Why are you crying, Daddy?
I see others, too, flashing by me like kaleidoscope images—the Tweedles in orange parkas and Betty Grable wearing sparkly red slippers. I see Faye in her beautiful silvery blue gown, surrounded by hundreds of cats, each one in a sweater, all the colors of the rainbow.
Then I see Simon, but his face is white and lifeless. His eyes are closed, and there’s a dark streak of blood across his forehead. I try to reach out for him, and yet I continue to fall.
Simon says, I am dead. You are dead. The game is over.
I see a giant hand, outstretched across a brilliant patch of blue, open and waiting, ready to catch me. It is the hand of the King, and if I am truly a princess, this is where my story will end. Safe in the palm of the King’s hand. And there I will rest in peace forever.
Rest in peace. Rest in peace. Rest in peace.
Is that where I am now, peacefully at rest? The voices and faces all seem to be gone now, and all I hear is the beating of my heart, or is it the clock?
I wonder if I’m still alive, and yet I cannot move. I’m in a soft white cocoon like a caterpillar. I’m not claustrophobic, not uncomfortable. All is warm and clean and simple. It’s as if all the clutter has been cleared away, and I think I shall rest here for a long, long time. I don’t have to think about anything. I don’t have to do anything or be anything. It’s as if my brain is on a much needed vacation.
I believe I shall sleep and sleep and sleep. Please, hang a sign on my forehead that reads, Do Not Disturb.
Why are they trying to wake me up, trying to disturb my rest? I just want to sleep. Why can’t they go away? I hear their voices, but they are not mean voices. They don’t threaten me or swear at me or demand that I jump from the bridge.
They say things like “Alice? Can you hear me?” Or “Alice, it’s time to wake up.” But I just tune them out. It’s amazing to be able to do this. How long have I waited for this sort of ability?
“Alice?” I recognize this particular voice; it seems like a voice I’ve known for years. But still I cannot force myself to emerge from my cocoon. Leave me alone.
Then finally I can no longer hold these intruders at bay. There’s light in my eyes, and I can see the whiteness, the brightness of it, and I know that the inevitable has finally happened. Like so many things in life, I cannot fight it any longer.
“Alice?”
I blink several times, wishing that it were not so as I see the fluorescent light above me, hear it humming. I’m in a bed with white sheets, covered in a white cotton blanket, the kind with all the tiny holes. It appears to be a hospital bed, and there is a plastic tube taped to my arm and a plastic bag full of what appears to be water hanging on a stainless steel pole above my head. I wonder what is in that water.
“Alice?”
I turn my head, painfully, to my left. There on a chair sits Faye with her knitting. Only the sweater is no longer red. It is yellow.
“Faye?” I think I have said her name, but I am not sure. My voice doesn’t seem to be working at the moment.
She stands and com
es over, taking my hand in hers. “Oh, dear child.” There are tears in her eyes. “I thought I had lost you.”
Now it’s all coming back to me. The party. The icy road. The swirling city lights blurred by the fog. I want to ask her about Simon, her beloved nephew, but I can’t bear to know that he is dead just yet. I don’t want to hear her say the dreaded words. My eyes begin filling with tears, and I swallow hard to hold them back.
She pats my hand. “You’re going to be okay, Alice. You’ve been in a coma. You had a head injury … and other things. But you are going to be just fine. I know because I have been speaking to my heavenly Father about you every single day. He has assured me that you are going to be just fine.”
I nod, but this hurts my head. I close my eyes and long to return to the quiet place again. I hurt all over, but most of all I hurt deep inside my chest to think that Simon is gone.
Doctors and medical people come and examine me. I pretend I am not here as they prod and poke and listen. I pretend that this is some other Alice, and when they ask me my name and address, I pretend I don’t remember, and they seem to accept this. “Just Alice,” I tell them as if that should settle it.
“Don’t worry,” says the woman doctor. “It will come back to you in time.”
I hope not, I think. But I don’t believe I said this aloud.
Faye has gone home to tend her cats. I lie in the bed feeling more alone than ever before. Finally I give in to my sadness and simply cry. A nurse stops in and asks if she can get me something, but I just shake my head no and continue to cry. I think I shall cry for days and weeks, maybe even years.
I am awake in the middle of the night, at least I think it is, because everything is darker, although the lights are still on and I can still hear people coming and going in the hallway. I can’t take it anymore. Just when I thought things were getting better, I am forced to return to this—this so-called life of mine.
I look up at the ceiling above me and imagine that God is really up there somewhere, and I shake my fist at him and demand that he do something about this whole thing. “It’s not fair!” I tell him. “If you are really who Faye says you are, then why is my life such a hopeless mess? Why am I here? And why is Simon dead?”
Finding Alice Page 19