I rant and rave like this for hours it seems, until I am so exhausted I fall asleep. But when I wake up, I feel strangely better. And I begin to speak to God again. But now I don’t feel so angry. I just speak to him in a matter-of-fact voice, as I might do with a friend. If I had a friend. It’s weird, but I actually think he may be listening. Still, how can I trust my own observations?
So this begins to worry me, and I become obsessed with the fear that I am going right back to where I started this past fall. I suspect that Amelia will be back any minute now, and already I am certain I can hear those voices whispering about me, blaming me, accusing me, and even threatening. But maybe it’s really the nurses.
“Why, God?” I demand. “Why did you let me have that reprieve only to bring me back to … to this?” I close my eyes and sigh deeply. “Why do you want to torture me so? What have I ever done to deserve this life?”
I sleep a lot during the next few days. I sense that Faye has been here, but I must’ve been asleep. The doctor—Dr. Spangler is her name—told me that it’s natural to sleep like this. “It’s the brain’s way of repairing itself.”
I think this is interesting, that the brain knows how to repair itself. I wonder if my brain might completely repair itself if I could only sleep for long enough—perhaps a few years. Then perhaps I wouldn’t have to return to my old twisted ways of thinking. But I doubt my brain has such superior abilities. At least it hasn’t shown these talents in the past. And I am fairly certain that, like my grandmother’s, it was defective to start with.
One day I open my eyes to see Faye again. “How are you doing, dear?” she asks.
“Okay, I guess.”
“Cheshire sends his regards. He wanted to come visit you, but they have a very strict no-pets policy here.”
“Tell him hi for me.” I glance out the window to see sheets of rain pelting against the glass.
“Guess we won’t have a white Christmas after all,” I say.
She smiles and squeezes my hand. “Christmas has come and gone, dear.”
“Oh.” I think about Simon again. Have they already had his funeral? Is the rest of his family terribly angry at me? Am I in trouble with the police? I want to know the answers to these questions but am afraid to ask.
“Simon is doing much better.”
I turn to look at her. “What?”
She nods. “He’s doing much better. The doctor says he’s healing up quite nicely from his surgery.”
“He’s not dead?”
“Oh no, dear. Did you think he was dead?”
Tears begin to pour from my eyes now. I’m sure they’re from relief, but I choke and sob and sputter all the same. “Really?” I gasp. “He’s really alive? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
She bends down and looks at me. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Alice. You were both seriously injured in the accident, but Simon is very much alive. I’m sorry if you didn’t know that. Poor thing.”
I sigh and lean back into my pillow, surprised that I feel like thanking God. I must’ve said this aloud because now Faye is joining me.
“Yes,” she says. “Thanks be to God. In his great mercy he has spared you both. The doctor in ICU said you both should’ve been killed in the accident. Apparently the car was flattened, and they had to use the Jaws of Life just to get you both out.” She shakes her head. “Just dreadful.”
“Was your dress ruined?”
She waves her hand. “Pish-tosh. Who cares about a silly old dress?”
“It was so beautiful.”
“And your fur coat?”
“The doctor said that heavy coat probably spared you some other injuries.”
I consider this.
“Did you have a nice evening, dear?”
I try to remember, but it’s kind of a blur, and I’m not sure where we went. Was it to the Starlight Club? “I think so,” I finally say, just to reassure her.
“Dr. Golden and his wife have been by to see you several times. You must’ve made quite an impression on them that evening.”
Then it comes back to me, the Christmas party. “I’m sure I did.” I groan as I remember some of my crazy accusations that night.
She pats my hand. “Don’t fret so much, Alice.”
I wish I could follow her advice, but it seems impossible.
“Do you know what day it is?” she asks.
“No.”
“It’s New Year’s Day.”
“Really?”
“And I don’t mean to intrude, but I’ve been concerned, Alice. You’re such a lovely young woman, I feel certain there must be a family somewhere who is just sick with worry about you. Would you like me to contact someone?”
I consider this. I do feel bad to think that Christmas has come and gone, and Aaron and my mom still have no idea where I am. Not that we’ve ever celebrated Christmas, but I’m sure that Aaron is home from college, and my mother is probably wondering about me.
Suddenly I don’t really care if they come and cart me back to Forest Hills. It’s not as if I’m having a great time here anyway. I’m fairly sure that when I’m released, I’ll be sent to a nut house anyway. And not Dr. Golden’s, thanks to his yearlong waiting list. At the moment I have no resistance in me, so I give in and tell Faye my mother’s name and phone number, then close my eyes and long to return to that blissful place where all was peace and quiet. Perhaps another blow to the head would help.
chapter TWENTY-SEVEN
Jack and Jill
I am definitely relieved that Simon is alive. Now, though, I feel even more scared and guilty than before. All along I have felt a gnawing certainty that I am the reason we had the wreck that night. I’m not even sure what I did to cause it, but I have no doubt that I’m the responsible party. I thought perhaps I would be able to hide this fact from everyone, but knowing that Simon is alive changes things. As glad as I am and as much as I like him, I am afraid to see him now. I wonder if he has told the police yet. I wonder if I should try to get away from here. They have taken my IV tube out. They said it was only to give me fluids and nutrients, but I noticed the nurse occasionally injected it with a hypodermic needle. At first I was relieved that she was shooting the needle into the tube instead of my skin, but then I realized that it was probably some kind of drug, and that frightened me even more.
Now they bring me my meals on a tray, and because I don’t want the IV stuck into me again, I try to eat most of the food. I might as well since I’m also taking the pills they bring. The nurse usually stands over me and watches as I swallow them. She’s even worse than my mom. I’m not absolutely positive that she knows I am crazy yet. I wonder how long it takes for these things to leak out.
I try not to think about what will happen when Faye calls my mom. When I gave her the number, I was only thinking about Mom and Aaron and how I really would like to see them again. But I temporarily forgot to consider the whole church package that will probably come with this poorly considered decision. I cringe to think of Pastor John or Mrs. Knoll standing by my bed just now. I will feel so trapped. Just like a caged animal that spectators are allowed to tease and provoke with sticks. And what if they bring Mary Cates as well as some of the other church ladies? Oh, why did I tell Faye about my family?
I have only been out of bed a few times so far and only with a nurse to help me. My head gets too dizzy, and they’re afraid I’ll fall and injure myself further. A physical therapist comes in every day, exercising my arms and legs, careful not to injure my broken collarbone and cracked ribs, which he assures me are healing nicely even if they do hurt a lot. I try not to complain about the pain since I don’t want to risk the doctor increasing my pain medication. The idea of getting all dopey and pathetic again makes me want to scream.
So I decide to try it on my own today. I slowly sit up in bed, the way the therapist has shown me, and slide my legs over the side. I am still amazed and fascinated at the black, yellow, and purple bruises all over my body. I look
like a human rainbow. Not only that, but the stitched-up swollen scars on my legs remind me of Frankenstein. I’m really quite a sight. Dr. Spangler said it’s miraculous that my legs weren’t broken. She said I must be made of some pretty tough stuff. Maybe my body, I was thinking. Unfortunately my brain is not nearly as invincible.
I rest my bare feet on the floor, wincing at the pain this brings. Every part of my body feels as if it’s been twisted and smashed. And I suppose that it has. I’m amazed to think that it’s been almost two weeks since the wreck and I still feel this awful. You’d think I’d be much better by now. I suppose I should be thankful for my concussion. As a result I will probably never know how much pain I was in. I wonder how Simon feels now.
Slowly I put a little weight on my feet, gasping as I do. My head swims, and I am afraid I will vomit. I did that the first time I tried to stand up. I take slow, shallow breaths and tell myself I can do this. I must get away from here while I can. And for the first time in a long time I think I can hear Amelia again. But this time she’s not yelling or cussing at me. Her voice is calm, and she is agreeing with me.
“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.
Finding Alice Page 20