Even her senses of taste and smell were affected. The little pleasures she might have enjoyed once upon a time were now dulled. She tried not to succumb to the fact that she felt like a puppet to the medication, but it was hard to ignore the way it dictated her every move. When she slept, when she ate. She couldn’t drive or be left alone, except for the hours she spent holed up in her bedroom, trying not to remember what her life had been like before Jane died.
Louise told her she’d read online that journaling her feelings might help, and without any reason to resist anymore, Alicen had started. A new page for every day, the same kinds of words and sentences on each.
I don’t really feel like myself today.
I’m tired even though it feels like all I do is sleep.
I feel alone.
I think about Jane all the time.
I failed her, and this is my punishment. My trouble.
I wonder if the fog will ever clear.
I wonder if this will be the rest of my life.
Alicen wasn’t sure it was helping to put her thoughts on paper, but she kept doing it, a sort of nighttime routine, because honestly she didn’t have anything else to do. The days were long, the nights longer still, and every morning was the same. Reality had injected itself with staleness and a deep numbing that made the whole world seem like it was moving in slow motion. After nearly a week of taking her new medication, Alicen found herself, like she had each night before, writing in her journal the same things she’d written a handful of times.
I wonder if the fog will ever clear.
I wonder if this will be the rest of my life.
She shut the journal, tucked it away, and lay down against her mattress. It would be another long night of empty dreams and assisted, medicated sleep that never really seemed to give her any rest. Tomorrow would come with the rising sun, and Alicen would walk like a zombie through another day of the same, and she wouldn’t hear voices, or see children, or feel broken. No, she had traded her broken, chaotic brain for deadened mush, and honestly, she wasn’t sure which one was worse.
Alicen had never seen the small bookstore in this state. Empty except for a few stray boxes that were still being packed, the dust on the last few bookshelves that hadn’t been cleaned, and fragments of trash from all the packing materials scattered here and there.
Betty was fetching the final boxes down from the upper level, and Louise was bringing in the cleaning supplies that she’d packed into the back of her car earlier that morning. The afternoon would consist of trying to make the store clean. Wiping away the moments that had gathered across its old wooden floors and between its aging bookcases. Alicen was supposed to be taping up the last few sets of books before her, but she kept getting distracted by the memories from her childhood that danced in and out of the fog inside her brain.
She shook herself free from the accumulation of dust in her mind and tried to get back to the task at hand. All she had to do was seal a couple of cardboard flaps closed with duct tape. It shouldn’t require so much focus. But the yellow morning pills mixed with the fading white sleeping tablets from the night before made every task she encountered challenging.
She’d been informed by the nurse that her transition would take some time. The body and mind needed to adjust to their new chemical balance, and while they did that, Alicen would feel abnormal. The chemical cocktail swimming in her bloodstream was much more powerful than anything she’d taken previously, so patience was necessary. It had only been six days, and the logical side of Alicen’s mind, even enveloped in haze, knew she needed to give the medicine more time than that.
The problem was that this adjustment phase moved like a yo-yo. Moments of heavy emotional darkness followed by nothingness. The swing was dramatic and exhausting. She was beginning to feel like two different people.
“You okay?” a voice asked through the fog.
Alicen glanced up to see Louise standing close by, a blue bucket of cleaning supplies on one hip, a mop and broom clenched in her opposite hand. Alicen forced a grin and nodded. Waves of nausea rolled through her stomach and threatened to rumble up her chest. She closed her eyes, reached out for the nearest bookcase to use as an anchor, waited the couple of beats it took for the sickness to pass, and then exhaled. Another unfortunate side effect of her new chemical mixture.
Louise’s eyes flickered with sympathy, and she smiled warmly. “It’s going to get better.” Her tone was comforting and full of optimism. Alicen wanted to believe her, but it was hard to see past the seemingly eternal discomfort.
Alicen nodded. “It’s better than being crazy, right?”
Now it was Louise’s turn to force a smile.
Alicen knew Louise thought that calling herself crazy was damaging. But of all the things Alicen had experienced in the last couple of months, calling herself insane felt like the least damaging thing there was. She hated the medication, hated feeling like she was split into two people who were both strangers to her, hated the random and frequent bouts of nausea, hated the constant worry lines on Louise’s and Betty’s faces, but it was all better than seeing imaginary children. Wasn’t it?
The little bell over the front door dinged, and both Louise and Alicen turned to see a beautiful brunette walk through. Her skin looked soft to the touch, even with the lines of aging. Her eyes were just as bright as Alicen remembered them, even after the passing of time, and her smile was the same infectious one that drew everyone into her warmth. Alicen’s heart leapt, and a genuine smile lifted her cheeks.
“Mom?” Louise said, surprised. “I didn’t know you were coming up today.”
Stephanie Watson walked across the room to meet her daughter, pulling off her leather gloves and scarf as she moved. “Well, I really should have come much sooner.” Even her voice filled the holes in Alicen’s cracked heart with comfort. Stephanie reached out and grabbed her grown daughter in a hug, placing a kiss on her left cheek, and then turned to Alicen. “Hello, sweetheart,” she said. She stepped forward and took Alicen’s hands in her own. Her touch was as soft and warm as Alicen remembered. It pulled at her heartstrings and stirred emotions that tried to push through her drugged state.
“Mrs. Watson,” Alicen said.
“Please call me Stephanie; we’re all adults now. I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you sooner. I didn’t want to intrude.”
“I’m glad you’re here now,” Alicen said.
Stephanie beamed her famous smile and touched Alicen’s cheek, the motion nearly fracturing the collected numbness around Alicen’s heart. “You look the same as I remember,” Stephanie said.
Alicen chuckled and shook her head. “Oh, I hope not.”
“You really do—I’ve been meaning to mention it,” Louise teased.
Stephanie rolled her eyes at her daughter. “I just mean, your eyes are the same. Your smile, too. It takes me back.” She gave Alicen’s hands a squeeze, and then gently pulled her into a hug. Alicen let the moment linger, as Stephanie held on a moment longer than she might have usually.
“Stephanie,” a fourth voice spoke.
Alicen pulled back from Mrs. Watson’s embrace and turned to see her mother climbing down the last few steps, a box in hand, a cautious look in her eyes. Betty and Stephanie had never been the greatest of friends. More like acquaintances who were pleasant to one another because their daughters had been thick as thieves. Alicen hadn’t ever asked her mother why, but she assumed it had something to do with jealousy. Stephanie came from money and then had married into more than most people saw in their entire lives. From Betty’s perspective, some people deserved that kind of luck and others didn’t. Alicen knew, for a reason she would probably never understand, that Betty would categorize Stephanie as undeserving.
“Betty. Louise mentioned you’d come into town. How are you?” Stephanie asked politely.
“Fine, and yourself?” Betty responded in kind.
“Very well, thank you.”
From the forced tone, Alicen wonde
red if Stephanie might have a hidden problem with Betty as well. Alicen had always thought that if the two weren’t getting along, then Betty was to blame, but maybe there really were two sides to every story.
“Decided to come visit us in Red Lodge?” Betty asked.
“It’s about time I got up here, and I thought today was as good a day as any,” Stephanie said.
Betty forced a smile and nodded. She set down the box she’d been carrying and moved closer to the three gathered women. “I’d say grab a box and jump in, but as you can see, we’re about done cleaning up your store.”
Betty let the emphasis on your draw out longer than necessary, and Alicen felt another wave of nausea crash inside her stomach. She wasn’t sure if it was induced by the drugs or her mother. She closed her eyes and waited as it passed.
“Alicen, are you all right?” Stephanie asked.
Alicen opened her eyes to see all three of them looking on with concern and gave a weak smile. “The medication makes my stomach a little woozy,” Alicen said.
“You probably need to eat something,” Betty said, moving to her daughter’s side. Her new and constant concern was irritating. It was probably just the meds talking, but being watched like a hawk by her mother was nearly as troublesome as seeing ghostly children.
“I’m okay, Mom,” Alicen said.
“No, she’s right,” Stephanie said, jumping into her comfortable mothering role. “Have you eaten today?”
“I’m fine; I just need some fresh air,” Alicen said. She retreated a couple of steps to give herself space from the looming hens and took a deep breath.
“Why don’t you and I go for a walk, then?” Stephanie said. “It would be great to catch up.”
Alicen glanced up at Stephanie and smiled. It would be nice, she thought, even as she felt her mother’s gaze. Stephanie must have noticed it as well and jumped in before anyone else could speak. “Unless, of course, you’re not feeling up for it. I’m sorry; I should have thought of that.”
“No,” Alicen said. “I’m really okay. A walk sounds great.” She could feel her mother’s hesitation from where she stood, and turned to try to give her a supportive glance. And she caught it. A slip in her mother’s carefully calculated facade. Just a twitch of an emotion flickered behind her eyes; behind the concern and judgment, it shivered and then vanished. Hurt. Betty was hurt over Alicen wanting to go with Stephanie.
“We’ll grab the last couple things from here and meet you two back at the house for lunch in a few,” Louise said, breaking the tension.
“Take your coat; it’s getting cold out there,” Betty said. Alicen thought the comment was strange and, had she been clearheaded, would have probably detected the desperation in Betty’s tone not to be out-mothered by Stephanie. Instead, her subconscious grabbed it and logged it away, and Alicen only nodded and did as her mother asked.
“Ready?” Stephanie asked, her smile piercing the awkwardness filling the rest of the room.
Alicen smiled, slipped on her coat, and followed Mrs. Watson out the front door, the tiny bell ringing overhead as they left.
Alicen’s mother had been right—the air carried a deep cold that made Alicen wonder if snow was coming. She hugged her coat tighter, keeping a slow and steady pace next to Mrs. Watson. They walked in silence for a few moments, putting distance between themselves and the store, Alicen trying to think of a way to start conversation while battling against the sludge that clogged up her brain. Thankfully, Stephanie intervened, and Alicen didn’t need to wade further through the muck.
“How have you been, Alicen?” Stephanie asked.
Alicen shrugged, unsure of what to say. How much did Mrs. Watson know about what had been going on over the last few months? How much detail had Louise shared? How much had she heard through the rumor mill that no doubt ran strong all the way down the mountain to Billings? Was she referring to how she was dealing with the death of Jane, or the death of her sanity? Or maybe those were one and the same.
“I suppose that question feels impossible to answer,” Stephanie said as if reading Alicen’s mind. “Though it’s probably the one you get asked the most.”
Alicen nodded, thankful Stephanie had spoken before Alicen had tried to tape together broken words to explain what a mess she had become. She didn’t really want Mrs. Watson to see her the way she was now. Since childhood, she’d looked up to the older woman walking beside her, and she’d always treasured the way Mrs. Watson saw the world with positivity and light. Alicen didn’t want to taint her with all the darkness she was carrying.
“They say you never recover from losing a child,” Stephanie said, “and I suppose maybe they’re right. But then, perhaps recovery shouldn’t be the focus; perhaps it’s better to focus on the change that comes instead.”
“I don’t want to change. I just want Jane,” Alicen said. She couldn’t have stopped the words if she’d tried. Saying the first thing that came to mind was becoming a new, unfavorable habit of hers.
“I’m sorry not to have known her,” Stephanie said, tucking her arm through Alicen’s and pulling her close to her side as they walked.
“She would have loved you,” Alicen said. She could feel the oncoming tears and swallowed them down.
“I bet she was a handful like her mother,” Mrs. Watson said.
Alicen huffed humorously and shook her head. “I wasn’t that much of a handful, was I?”
“Yes, you were.”
Alicen laughed out loud, and Stephanie followed suit.
“But it was welcomed. You made our trips to Red Lodge bright and full of adventure.”
“I miss those trips.”
“I think my favorite one was that Christmas Eve when your mother got called into work at the last minute and you came to stay with us for the day. It was sunny for a December day, and we decided to drive up here and see the lights. Do you remember the way this little street used to deck itself out in lights? Rooftop to sidewalk, gutter to gutter, every storefront dressed in twinkling lights.”
“Yeah, I remember. You made us listen to the Amy Grant Christmas CD the entire drive. I had never seen Mr. Watson roll his eyes so many times,” Alicen teased.
Stephanie pinched the inside of Alicen’s arm playfully. “He has always had terrible taste in music. He still rolls his eyes when I put it on.”
The memory drifted through Alicen’s mind—Stephanie tucked into the front seat, her legs pulled up under her, Louise strapped into the back next to Alicen, Mr. Watson trying not to mute the album as all three girls sang each song over and over. It made Louise laugh to see her dad become so annoyed. Stephanie playfully punched his shoulder every time he sang out of key on purpose. The car had been so warm and full of love, the thought of it now yanked at Alicen’s cold heart.
“It was freezing,” Stephanie remembered. “The sun had gone down, and all the Christmas lights lined the street. We were headed in for hot chocolate. I took my eye off you for one moment, and when I turned around you were gone. Scared me half to death.” She shook her head. “I found you outside, cheeks red, shivering, staring at the strung Christmas lights in the window. Your eyes full of tears. I thought something must be wrong, but you told me they were happy tears. You said you could see Grandma Joe in all the lights. That she had been right the whole time—that she really was the light of the world.”
Alicen’s heart reacted to Stephanie’s words, and her throat went dry.
“She had passed away a couple months before. That was the last trip we took with you before you moved away. And I’ll never forget the way you looked at those lights. It wasn’t just fascination on your face; it was a kind of knowing. As if you saw something the rest of us couldn’t see.”
“I was caught up in the delusions of an old woman and didn’t even know it,” Alicen said.
“Logic says you’re probably right.” Stephanie slowed and stepped around to face Alicen, grabbing both of Alicen’s hands and holding them tightly. She looked deep into the youn
ger woman’s eyes, her own ablaze.
“But take it from another old woman: logic can fail you. Your grandma was many things, maybe even delusional by the standards of this world, but maybe that belief gave her something the rest of us missed.”
Stephanie’s words sliced through the constant cloud encasing Alicen’s mind and slivered down into her chest. What she was saying was dangerous for Alicen. It stirred up questions she was trying desperately to ignore. Questions she was trying to put to death so she could get back to a life without madness. But something deep inside Stephanie’s eyes, the eyes of a woman Alicen loved and respected more than most, called to something deep inside her own heart that was struggling to survive. It called to her spirit. Her soul.
“I haven’t known you all your life; I’ve missed much of it, but the little girl I knew understood something more significant about this world than the woman standing before me. Something that runs deeper than logic. Something powerful. Your grandmother used to say that unless you become like a child again, you can’t see the things of heaven.” Stephanie shook her head and laughed quietly, almost as if to herself, before continuing. “I never really understood that until recently. I just thought it was a funny thing she said, but looking at you now, I think I may be starting to see what she meant.” She placed her gloved palm on Alicen’s cheek, her warmth shocking in the bitter cold. “Maybe you saw your truth once, and maybe it’s time to see it again.”
Alicen didn’t feel the tear slip past her bottom lip until Stephanie gently wiped it away. Instinctively, Alicen reached over and removed Mrs. Watson’s hand from her cheek, but the woman didn’t even twitch with offense. She continued to hold Alicen’s gaze, and even though a large part of Alicen wanted to pull away, she couldn’t. Stephanie had taken hold of her very core.
When Through Deep Waters Page 19