by Sonja Yoerg
“I don’t know. Your father’s there.”
Alison wriggled out of Carole’s arms and onto all fours. She placed a foot on the ground to stand. Her ankle crumpled and she cried out. Carole caught her under the arms and pulled her close.
A violent bout of coughing echoed under the bridge. Lester cheered. Carole and Alison watched as Warren and Walt helped April Honeycutt to a sitting position. Lester draped the jacket his mother had abandoned over his teacher’s shoulders.
“She’s okay!” Alison’s teeth chattered and her lips were blue.
“Here, let’s get you out of that soaking jacket.”
Carole helped Alison take it off, then wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter, whose entire body shook.
“Mom, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Something’s wrong with you, isn’t it? Something worse than what the doctor thinks, right?”
Carole started to shake her head, to deny it. The crowd noise rose, as if clamoring to be acknowledged. She had had enough of hiding. She was exhausted.
“Yes, there is. I’ve been pretending it’s not serious. I’ve been afraid.”
Alison grew very still. “There’s something in the pocket of my jacket.”
“We’ll get it later.”
“No.” Alison paused to cough several times. “I want you to have it now.”
Carole dragged the jacket closer, unzipped the pocket and removed a small blue box. It was familiar. She turned it in her hand, her memories pushing against the muttering crowd in her mind, getting louder, nearer. The box had been her mother’s, she remembered now.
Alison watched her. Her eyes were red and brimming with tears. Her voice was rough from the river water. “It’s for you, Mom. I was always supposed to give it to you.”
“Why?”
Tears spilled down her daughter’s cheeks. “To bring you back to me.”
“Oh, Alison.” Carole hugged her daughter with all the warmth and strength she could find. If only courage and love could be enough.
The voices in Carole’s head roared, shouting down her simple wish. Each cry was a needle piercing her brain, one here, one there, another and another and another, dozens upon dozens of cauterizing pinpoints, sharp, searing.
“Stop!” she shouted.
“Mom!” Alison squirmed in her arms.
Carole squeezed her tighter.
A man’s voice exploded in her head, a deafening thunder. Blood will tell! Blood will tell! Like your mother! Blood will tell!
Carole began to hum and rock, hum and rock. Alison twisted in her lap. Carole hummed and rocked. The man’s screaming became unintelligible, painfully loud. Carole cringed and whimpered.
She’d heard this voice before and others just as overwhelming and terrifying. They came from inside her. She believed what they said about her selfish, disgraceful mother and her cowardly, unloving father. They were her. She was them.
She was trapped and could not save herself from the voices and the truths they told. She was guilty and wretched and ashamed. Drenched and shivering on the riverbank, Carole held on to Alison as if her daughter was the lifeline rather than the one rescued.
A different male voice bellowed inside her, steel-hard, a sword run through her skull: Bad blood. Bad mad blood. You should have drowned. You should die.
Carole clung to her daughter.
“Mom! You’re hurting me!”
Carole released her and fell backward onto the soaking grass, her hands clamped over her ears. She screamed with all her might but could not drown out the voices.
37
Alison
Warren pulled Alison away from their mother and helped her into the truck bed, telling her to stay put while he and Lester lifted Miss Honeycutt into the cab. Alison couldn’t take her eyes off her mother, thrashing on the riverbank, kicking and screaming at her father, who was trying to get ahold of her. Finally, he got his arms around her and she calmed down a little. He gripped her tight, as if she would fly apart otherwise.
Warren drove to the house and called the police. Lester dragged blankets down from upstairs and wrapped them around Alison and Miss Honeycutt. It was like a disaster movie. Their dad told Warren and Lester what to do while they waited for help, shouting instructions from the kitchen, where he stayed with their mother. Twice she tried to run out the back door, but he stopped her. Alison pulled the blanket over her head so she couldn’t see the wild, scared look on her mother’s face.
Miss Honeycutt’s head was bleeding badly, and most of the time she had her eyes closed. The police and the ambulance crew showed up and took care of her first. Alison wanted to talk to her mother, give her a hug, calm her down, but Warren had been told to keep Alison quiet in the living room and he took his job seriously. The policemen, who’d both known their family for a long time, pulled their father into the hall for a talk.
After, her dad knelt beside her chair. There was mud in his hair and worry all over his face. “Listen, sunshine. I’ve got to take your mother to Burlington, to the hospital. She won’t go otherwise.”
“Okay.”
“You’ll go in the ambulance with Miss Honeycutt. I’ll see you there.”
“Okay.”
He squeezed her hand.
“Dad?”
“What is it?”
“What Mom has? It’s not the Change of Life, is it?”
“I don’t expect it is.”
“She thinks people on television can see her.”
He nodded. “I know she does.”
“Tell the doctors, okay?”
He kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell them everything. It’ll all be fine.”
Alison’s throat clogged with tears. She wanted to believe him more than anything in the world.
• • •
The emergency room doctor examined the lump on her head, took an X-ray of her foot and left her lying on the bed surrounded by machines and a white curtain. A nurse brought her an extra blanket but Alison still felt cold deep inside.
“Hey, you.” Her father pulled the curtain to the side and sat in the chair next to her. “Doctor says nothing’s broken, so that’s good. We just need to keep an eye out in case you have a concussion.”
“How’s Mom?”
“Better. They gave her something to calm her down.”
“Can I see her?”
“Not today. I’m going to take you home.”
“Does she have to go to Underhill?”
He frowned and thought a minute. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay? The doctor doesn’t know exactly what’s wrong yet. Said he’d know more tomorrow. I’ll come back then.” He scooted closer, leaned his elbows on his knees. “Your mother’s in the right place now. I wished I’d listened to you better, wished I’d seen things more clearly on my own. I’m sorry.”
The bridge of Alison’s nose tingled and pressure built behind her eyes. “I just want her to be better, Daddy.”
“I know, sunshine. You and me both.” He picked up her hand and held it in his. Hers—small, pale and freckled—and his—broad and tanned, nails stained with grease—could have been from two different species. But they weren’t.
• • •
Alison stayed home from school the next day, reading and watching television with her foot propped up on a pillow on the coffee table. “Keep it elevated,” the doctor had said. Her ankle had blown up to the size of a cantaloupe and throbbed like it had its own heart. So did her head. She had a lump on the back the size of an orange. Basically, she was lumpy fruit. She hadn’t slept very well because of her foot and her head, and because she was worried about her mother.
Her brothers came home from school. Lester brought her a snack and told her how everyone at school went bananas over Warren for his res
cue of Miss Honeycutt. Not just for diving in and pulling her from the car, but also for smacking her on the back to get the water out of her lungs.
“I know, Lester. I was there. Dad told him to do it.” On the way home from the hospital yesterday, her father had told her he’d learned the smacking thing when he was in Korea in the navy.
Lester said, “I told all the kids how Warren spotted the aerial sticking out of the water and dove right in. Like a superhero.”
“He did. He was brave. Just like Mom.”
“Only your head was the aerial.” He burst out laughing. So did Alison.
Their father had assigned chores for her brothers to do while he was gone. Alison read for a while, then dozed in front of the television, bored out of her mind.
Warren came in from the garage and stood in the doorway. This was the third time he’d checked on her.
“Still alive, squirt?”
“You don’t have to keep checking on me.”
“Dad said every half hour. Lester’s keeping track and won’t shut up until I do.” He plonked himself on the couch next to her. Sally was snuggled up on the other side of Alison and peered across to see what he was up to. “What are you watching anyway?”
“Reruns of Love, American Style.”
“Beats cleaning up the body shop.” He pointed at the bag of Lay’s on Alison’s lap. “Hand me those, will ya?”
Later, the three of them watched television together and waited for their dad to come back from Burlington. Lester groaned when the news came on and got up to change the channel. He hated the news. The door to the office opened and the smell of pizza floated into the living room. Their father came in, shucking his coat. He looked so sad. Alison’s heart squeezed tight.
Warren got up out of their father’s recliner. “How’s Mom?”
“I won’t beat around the bush. The doctors think your mother has schizophrenia.” He dropped into the chair.
“What’s that?” Lester said.
“It’s when you can’t think straight and you imagine things. They’ve started her on the medicine for it.”
Alison said, “Is she better yet?”
Their father shook his head slowly. “That’s the thing. It takes a couple weeks to work. They’ll keep her in the hospital until they’re sure she’ll keep taking it.”
Warren frowned. “Why wouldn’t she?”
“The schizophrenia makes her suspicious of things.”
“Oh. How long has that been going on?”
“A lot longer than it should’ve.”
A huge weight pressed down on Alison’s chest. She wanted her mom to come home, to be her normal self. She didn’t want to wait weeks to find out if she’d get better. It seemed so unfair. Her mom belonged at home, with them. “What if the medicine doesn’t work? It didn’t work on Grandma.”
Her father said, “They’re different people. And from what I understand, they’re not sick the same way.” Her father looked at each of them, his blue eyes bloodshot. “I’m not promising miracles. Far be it from me. But I do promise to take care of your mother.” He stood up and motioned to the kitchen. “Come on now, boys. Let’s dive into this pizza before it gets cold. Alison, you want cheese, right?”
Alison nodded, then watched them go. Everything seemed different because of the accident. Some things were worse, like her foot, and some things, like her mother’s sickness, were in that in-between place where they could go either way. Then why did things feel better overall? Maybe because the secret was out and they didn’t have to pretend everything was hunky-dory. Pretending, it turned out, was a problem all by itself. If you didn’t know the truth, how could you know the best thing to do, or what to hope for?
That was the trouble with magic. Omens didn’t always mean what you thought they did, and magic spells, well, maybe they worked and maybe they didn’t. Magic spells were concentrated wishes—she understood that much—but maybe the wishing part was more important than the magic. Maybe you had to wish that hard to find out what you really wanted.
• • •
After dinner, she was hobbling from the bathroom when the phone rang. It was Caroline. She’d heard about the accident and wanted to make sure Alison was okay. Alison pulled the phone around the corner for privacy.
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“You probably can’t go out trick-or-treating tomorrow, huh?”
Alison glanced at her foot. “Maybe as a mummy.” Caroline giggled. “You going into town?”
“Not sure. Delaney, Maggie and J.J. are going as the Three Blind Mice.” Her voice trailed off.
“And you don’t want to be the cat?”
“I wish I’d thought of that!”
“Well, I’m stuck here.”
“You could come over, give out candy with me. Watch a movie.”
“Really? You sure you don’t want to go out?”
“I’m sure. Can your mom drive you?”
Alison stared at the ceiling. She could just say her dad or Warren would drive her—they probably would—but it didn’t feel right. Everyone would find out about her mom eventually and she wanted someone to trust. She’d practice on Caroline.
“My mom is sick.”
“Like the flu?”
“Not like that. You can’t tell anyone, Caroline. No one knows yet and it’s super important you don’t tell, okay?”
“I swear I won’t.”
“She hears things that aren’t there. It’s really scary for her.”
“Wow. That would be scary.”
“She’s in the hospital. In Burlington.”
“Gosh.”
“But they’re giving her medicine that will probably help.”
“That’s good. Is she coming home soon?”
Alison swallowed. “I hope so.”
“Me, too. I’d miss my mom if she wasn’t here. But so far she always is. I’m going to ask her about tomorrow. Hold on for a sec, okay?”
Alison twirled the cord, remembering when she’d called Aunt Janine to ask her about the Change of Life. How Aunt Janine had laughed at her. Her throat closed remembering how awful she’d felt. Caroline was a much better person to talk to.
“Alison, I’m back. My mom says it’s fine. And she’ll take you home after. Can you get a ride here?”
They worked out the details of their plan. Alison hung up the phone and went into the living room, where her father and brothers were watching television. Her foot was aching and her whole body was sore, but the heaviness in her chest had lifted some. She sat on the couch next to Lester.
“Here, let me do it.” Lester hoisted her leg onto the table and Sally jumped onto her lap.
“Allayed,” that was the word. Her fears had been allayed.
Well, some of them. She stroked Sally and thought about her mother, alone in a hospital room. Maybe she could visit her the next time her dad went. Alison was afraid of what she might be like—strange things she might say or odd looks that didn’t line up with anything real—but she wasn’t afraid of her. If Alison could, she’d lie on the bed next to her. Her mom might even put her arm around her and they could stay that way for a while.
• • •
Alison handed her book bag to her father and hopped down from the attic on one leg. It took forever and her brothers were already outside waiting. Lester scrambled into the backseat of the Nova so Alison could have the front—first time ever. Her father put her bag in her lap and squeezed her shoulder. “Take it easy today, sunshine.”
“I will, Daddy. See you later.”
Warren stashed her crutches behind the seat and got behind the wheel. He put a Bad Company tape in the player and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel while he drove. Lester started singing and Warren told him to cut it out.
They pulled up to the curb near her classroom.
Warren helped her with her book bag and crutches.
“Thanks for the ride,” Alison said.
“Only until you can walk again, squirt. Don’t get used to it.”
It had only been a couple of days, but Warren seemed different, more confident, like he didn’t need to keep pushing everyone around to make himself superior because he’d actually done something to be proud of. Alison wondered if it would last.
The tarmac was buzzing with kids, more hyped up than usual because of Halloween. They weren’t allowed to wear their costumes until the parade after lunch, but some had taken hats and wigs and masks from their bags and put them on anyway. Alison went straight to the door to beat the stampede when the bell rang. Kids came up to her, girls asking if her foot hurt and boys asking if it was cool to almost drown.
Davey shouted as he ran past, chasing a ball. “Hey, Alison! Did you see the light?”
No one asked what happened because everyone already knew. A boy in her grade opened the door for her, and she limped down the corridor, the book bag over her shoulder hitting her hip with every step. Her armpits were killing her.
Mr. Bayliss was sitting behind his desk and gave her a big smile.
“Hey, Alison. It’s really good to see you.” He came over and pointed at her bag. “Let me help you with that.”
“Thanks.”
She moved her crutches to one hand. Mr. Bayliss slipped the bag off her shoulder and let it dangle at his side.
Alison didn’t know what to say. The jumpy feeling was there in her stomach, but she also felt shy and a little embarrassed, like she’d stepped over an invisible line that wasn’t invisible anymore. Alison pretended her injured foot was suddenly interesting.
Mr. Bayliss said, “I heard your mom pulled you out of the river.”
“Yeah, I got clonked on the head by a log, and she dove in and saved me.”
“That’s amazing.”
She looked at him. “My mom is amazing.”
He smiled. “You had to get it from somewhere.”
38
Janine