Amelia warns me not to look at anyone, so I keep my eyes down, avoiding onlookers’ glances as I wait for the train to arrive. Then I climb on quickly, taking a seat next to the door just in case I have to get off fast. I haven’t had time to formulate any sort of plan yet, but at least I have a destination. I know that I lasted a few weeks down by the river park before. I can probably do it again, but I must remember to be very careful.
My face is wet as I step off of the MAX in the city center. I didn’t even know I’d been crying. Was it for Cheshire? Or Faye? Or maybe for myself. I think about going up to the hospital to see Simon. I’m not even sure why. I guess there’s a tiny part of me that hopes I can trust him, and yet I don’t know why I hold on to this. Maybe it’s because he is so helpless with his casts and traction devices. Perhaps that makes him safer, makes me believe that he can’t really hurt me. Then again, I’m not so sure. There are all sorts of pain.
I make my way through the shopping district, imagining that I am blending into the crowd of fast-walking shoppers. It’s too bad I don’t have a bag to carry. It seems that everyone has bags today. Then I realize they are probably still returning their unwanted Christmas gifts. I remember when I worked at Nordstrom last Christmas season—was that only a year ago?—that the first business day after Christmas was such a killer. By the end of my shift, the cash register was more than seventeen thousand dollars in the hole. At the time I thought it was rather ironic and pitiful. Today I wish I were one of those people who actually had a gift to return. I remember that Aaron said he’d gotten me something. I guess it’s still at my mom’s house. If it’s really true. Aaron may be in on this.
“Trust no one,” says Amelia.
I walk over to a tram stop and sit down like I know what I am doing. I guess I have decided to visit Simon after all.
“What are you doing?” demands Amelia.
“I need to see Simon.” I try to keep my voice calm. “Just one last time.”
“No!” she screams. I look around to see if she frightened anyone, but no one seems to care if she throws a fit. “No, you are not going up there, Alice!”
“I have to,” I tell her in a firm voice.
“You are a complete fool!” she yells, along with another string of profanity.
“Leave me alone,” I tell her. I notice the man with the newspaper moving away from me now, glancing nervously from the corner of his eye.
Amelia stamps off, and I wait for the right train to come, and with shaking hands I climb on. If only Amelia could understand that this is a one-time event. It’s not like I’m stupid. I know it’s only a matter of time before they sound the alarms and announce to everyone that Alice is on the run again. And maybe it is foolish, but I need to see Simon, and it’s as if the risk is driving me now.
It’s almost ten o’clock when I walk through the big double doors of the hospital. Without speaking or looking at anyone, I ride the elevator up to the fourth floor and head straight to Simon’s room. But when I get there, I hear people talking, and for a moment I am certain that Dr. Golden is already here, on the alert and looking for me. I wonder how he found out about me so soon. And how did he know I’d come here? I stand out of sight behind the door and listen intently. But soon I realize that it’s only Simon’s doctor talking to him about his progress. I decide to hang out in the rest room for a while until he leaves.
“Alice!” exclaims Stacy as I enter the rest room. “What are you doing back here?”
I frown and search my scattered mind for an appropriate answer. “I have an appointment,” I say quickly.
She nods, but I can tell by her eyes that she doesn’t completely believe me.
“And I wanted to say hi to Simon,” I add.
This seems to satisfy her as she rubs her hands beneath the blow dryer. “That’s nice,” she says. “I heard he’s finally getting out of traction today. I’ll bet he can’t wait.”
“Yeah.” I go into a stall and close the door, hoping she will go.
Then I hear Amelia’s voice. I can tell she is very, very angry. “Why did you come here, you stupid little fool? Don’t you know this is the first place they will look for you? What is wrong with you, Alice? Why don’t you listen to me? You are such a fool!”
Leave me alone, I am thinking. Just go away! I press my hands to my mouth, afraid that Stacy might still be there listening, that she might alert security. I listen and hear the door open and close. I wait a few minutes and hear only the sound of a dripping toilet. Finally I emerge. No one is there. Now I’m not sure whether to listen to Amelia and get out of here or to stop by and speak to Simon. I slip out into the hallway, and avoiding a particularly unfriendly nurse, I turn left and head directly toward Simon’s room. I pause by the door, and when I am certain he is alone, I stick in my head and am immediately spotted.
“Alice!” he calls out in what sounds like a happy voice. “Come in.”
I walk in and glance around. I am afraid they will be here shortly. That I will have to make a run for it, bolt out the door, and use an emergency exit to get away. But so far I see no one.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Okay.”
His smile seems to fade as he peers at me more closely. “Are you really okay?”
I shrug and move a step closer to his bed.
“You don’t look okay.”
“Thanks a lot.” I glance over my shoulder now. Feeling jumpy. Very jumpy.
“Get out of here, you fool!” Amelia is standing in the corner of the room just yelling at me. “Run while you’ve got the chance.”
I want to press my hands over my ears, but I control myself.
“Look, Alice,” Simon says. “I know this is hard for you. But you’ve got to listen to me, okay?”
I don’t know what to do. Something in me really wants to listen to him. But at the same time Amelia sounds like she’s going to go berserk if I don’t make a move—and fast.
“I know what you’re experiencing feels real, Alice. And I understand that you find it difficult to trust anyone. To believe that anyone—” He stops abruptly. “You’re hearing the voices right now, aren’t you, Alice?”
I look over my shoulder again, ready to run.
“Listen to me, Alice. I am real. They are not. Do you know that?”
I use all my energy to focus my attention on him, and at the moment I can believe him. I slowly nod. “I think so. Right now anyway.”
“Okay. I know what you’re up against—”
“How can you know, Simon?” I shake my head, suddenly afraid that he’s stringing me along too. “How on earth can you possibly know?”
“Alice.” His voice is calm. “I want you to listen to me, okay? Really tune into my voice. I know what you’re going through because my mother had schizophrenia too. Do you understand me?”
I stare at him now, unsure that he’s being truthful with me. “Honestly?” I ask him, trying to see into his eyes, to detect the signs if he’s not telling the truth.
“Honestly.” He shakes his head now, and his eyes get sad. “I don’t like telling people about this, but I want to tell you. Are you listening?”
I slowly move my chin up, then down. I think that I am listening.
“Okay.” He takes a breath. “According to my grandma, my mom started displaying symptoms not long after I was born. I even used to think that having me was what made her go crazy. At first the doctors thought it was postpartum depression, but instead of getting better, she got worse and worse. Finally I was taken away from her, and she was hospitalized. In a pretty bad place too.”
“Like Forest Hills?”
He nods. “Yes, very similar. Anyway, when I was little, I would go visit her with my grandma, but she never seemed like a real person to me. And she never acted like a mother. She didn’t really seem to know who I was.”
This sounds like my grandma.
He leans his head back now and sighs loudly, as if this next part is hard to tell. But I
am listening. I even take another step forward, not wanting to miss a word.
“When I started junior high school, I refused to go see her anymore. I told my grandma I was too busy, but it was really because, as an ignorant teenager, I was embarrassed to have a mom in the nut house. Besides, I figured if she didn’t know whether I was there or not, how would she notice if I didn’t come? And, honestly, she was so doped up that she probably didn’t. But then when I was just starting high school, she killed herself. Slit her wrists right there in the hospital. Used a pocketknife that she’d somehow gotten from an orderly. And just like that she was gone.”
I take another step toward his bed and put my hand on his cast. “I’m sorry,” I say. Tears pool in his eyes, and I have no reason to doubt his story.
“At the time I blamed myself. I told myself that if I’d only gone to see her, she wouldn’t have done it. That’s when I started reading books about mental illnesses, trying to figure this whole thing out. Then I learned about heredity and got freaked that I was going to end up just like her.”
“But you’re not,” I tell him, sadly thinking that I am.
His brows lift slightly. “Not yet anyway.”
I frown. “Do you really think that …”
“There’s no guarantee.” Now he looks at me closely. “But I’ll tell you what, Alice, if I started getting symptoms, I wouldn’t freak.”
I shake my head. Easy for him to say.
“Honestly. I’ve watched Dr. Golden work with people. He uses good therapy and counseling and a minimum of medication, and people are living normal lives.”
“Normal?”
He rolls his eyes. “As I’ve said, normal is highly overrated.”
“Yeah.” But I’m still not convinced.
“Alice, did you know that most people with schizophrenia have an above-average IQ? Many are borderline geniuses, artists, writers, musicians, scientists. I can give you a whole list of famous people as diversely gifted as Vincent van Gogh, John Nash, Virginia Woolf, and Friedrich Nietzsche, who all probably suffered from some form of schizophrenia.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I am tired now. Exhausted from my morning travels, I ease myself into the chair next to his bed and lean forward, shoulders slumped as I stare hopelessly at the floor. It feels hot and stuffy in here, but then I realize I am dressed quite warmly.
“Because I want you to get the help you deserve, Alice. And you are being handed an amazing opportunity with Dr. Golden.”
I look at him from the corner of my eye. “Did someone already call you and tell you I ran away?”
He just laughs. “No, Alice. But it doesn’t take a genius to guess where you’re headed.”
“Where?”
“I’m guessing the streets. If you let the voices bully you, you’ll most likely be hiding around the corners, sleeping in Dumpsters or under the bridges, jumping at every noise.”
I stand up again and study him closely. How does he know about this?
“It’s just the way it goes when people give in to their symptoms and refuse to get good help. You become everyone’s victim, and you run and run and run, but you never get away.”
“What then, Simon? Are you telling me to go to the Goldens? To allow them to lock me—”
He reaches out with his good hand and grabs my arm as if to get my attention. It works. “They do not lock anyone up, Alice. Why would I lie to you?” He releases my arm and leans back again.
“I don’t know.” I reach down and touch my stomach, wondering if God’s baby is really in there after all. Or is this just another delusion? It all seemed so real and believable this morning. How can that be?
“I really care about you, Alice. I have no reason to lie to you. I just want to see you get help and get better. I want to see you finish college and enjoy a functional life where you’re not running from the shadows all the time.”
“I want that too.”
“Well, it’s up to you then.”
“Are you telling me to go up there, Simon?”
“I can only tell you that I think it would be the best thing for you. But you’re the one who must make the final decision. No one is going to force you into this. And if Dr. Golden isn’t convinced you’re there of your own free will, he won’t even let you in.”
I sit back down again. My own free will. It seems like nothing in my life is about my own free will anymore. It’s not my will for Amelia to scream at me or to be confused all the time. And it’s not my will to be homeless and hungry.
“What if I don’t have a free will anymore?” I ask.
“You do, Alice. It’s in there. I’ve seen it. But all that other stuff is confusing you. Think about what you really want in your life, then ask yourself how you’re going to get there.”
I think about things like peace and safety and rest. I think about being warm and loved and fulfilled. For the moment I know I won’t find these things on the streets, running from shadows as Simon put it. I suspect he is probably right.
“Julie was going to pick me up at Faye’s at noon,” I tell him. “I don’t know if I can get back there in time.” I stand up and move toward the door. “I’ve got to go, Simon. I don’t want to miss her.”
He grins and waves, and I take off. I am tempted to use the emergency exit but don’t want to look too crazy. Instead I go the longer way, walking as fast as I am able down the hall, ignoring the glances tossed my way. Once outside, I move quickly toward the train stop, ignoring the jolt of pain with each jarring step. I wish I had taken a pain pill this morning. Somehow I reach the stop at the same time as the tram. I climb inside, sitting close to the door, clutching my midsection with my hands, preparing myself to jump out and catch the downtown connection that will take me back across the river again.
Time is usually inconsequential to me, but now I am worried about each minute as the tram rumbles across the bridge. I fret that I am too late, that Julie has already come and gone without me, that I’ve missed my chance. I want to ask the woman with the little boy if she knows what time it is but am afraid she already thinks I’m dangerous. I noticed how she looked at me and then quickly turned away as if she thought I might harm her or her child. I turn and stare out the window. Why is this train moving so slowly?
There, directly across from me, is the big bridge, the one that used to call my name. I stare at it, wishing I could overpower its evil draw, somehow prove to it that I am stronger. But I fear I am not. I fear that left to its own devices, the bridge would easily win over me. I turn and look away. If only I’m not too late.
I begin to pray, whether it’s aloud or in my heart I’m not quite sure. I don’t think I even care anymore. Dear God, please help me to get there on time. Please don’t let me arrive too late. Amen.
chapter THIRTY-THREE
The Garden of Live Flowers
Amelia is verbally assaulting me as I step off the tram at the last stop. Trying to ignore her, I pause to glance at the clock in the waiting area. It is nearly noon. I know it will take at least twenty minutes to make it back to Faye’s, and that’s only if I walk fast. I’m not even sure that I can.
“Go ahead, you stupid little fool,” she yells as she stamps along beside me. “It’s not going to do any good. You’ll never make it on time, and even if you do, it won’t matter. They don’t want to help you—”
“Leave me alone! Leave me alone!” I yell to block out her harping as I hurry along. I am breathless when I finally reach Faye’s street. My ribs burn like twigs in a fire, and my heart is about to burst through my throbbing chest. I ache all over and would trade my rubber boots for a pain pill right now. But I keep on trudging. I cut through the alley again and finally find her backyard and make my way across the still wet grass. I slip in the back door and prepare myself for Faye’s questions. Where was I? What was I doing? Not that she’s ever been that intrusive before. But I am ready.
“Hello, dear,” she calls from the kitchen as I remove my coat in the laundry roo
m. “I just told Julie that you should be here any minute.”
I step into the kitchen and see Julie sitting at the little table, drinking a cup of tea and petting Oliver.
“Hi, Alice.” She smiles. “I was hoping I hadn’t missed you.”
“I just, uh, went for a walk,” I tell her as I unbutton the first layer beneath my coat, one of Faye’s old cardigans, a hot pink color that always makes my face look paler than normal.
“Would you like some tea?” asks Faye.
“Sure.” I sit down and attempt to catch my breath.
“Faye thought that you might like to come out and see our place,” says Julie as she helps herself to a slice of banana bread left over from yesterday.
I nod. “Yes, I’d like to do that.” I peer at her. “Just to look around, right?”
“Just to look around,” mocks Amelia. “Right!”
“Definitely, it’s just to see the place. We don’t even have a space available until the end of the week. But you can certainly check it all out.”
Faye sets a cup of tea before me, then cuts a generous slice of banana bread and even spreads it with butter before she sets it on a napkin in front of me. “You need to eat something so you can take one of your pain pills, dear.”
“Oh sure,” says Amelia as she leans against the refrigerator with narrowed eyes. “Go ahead and take a pill, Alice. See where that gets you, you stupid moron!”
I avert my eyes and hungrily devour the bread before I willingly take a pill. Amelia could be right, but somehow I just don’t believe her. Or maybe I don’t care. My body aches so badly that all I can think about is getting a little relief.
“Don’t eat too much,” warns Julie with a smile. “I thought you and I could have some lunch along the way and just chat a little.”
“A little lunch?” Amelia shakes her head. “Don’t fall for it, Alice. That’s how she’ll start the poison in your system.”
I study Julie for a moment, thinking Amelia could be right; this could be a trick. Then I force myself to replay Simon’s words. I make myself remember what it is I really want. And what I don’t. I think Julie and Faye are talking again, but I’m not catching their words.
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