by Jw Schnarr
Of course, there was one thing she had to fight off the most terrible days, when the gloom of the hospital was too much or she was so bored she needed a pick-me-up; Aunt Em had sent along fifty dollars for ice cream. In case you get a case of the nimbly bimbly’s, she’d whispered, stuffing the folded bill into her hand. Dorothy had accepted it gladly. Her life was nothing but nimbly’s and bimbly’s, often more of each than she could count.
Not knowing how long she might be in this place, Dorothy was very careful with how and when she spent that money. She saved it for those days when she was ready to claw out her eyes at the sight of another personality test, or slash open her wrists so the nurses taking blood could just take it all at once and get it over with. Some days, it seemed both were an imminent possibility. Then she’d grab two dollars, tell the nurse she was going to the cafeteria, and make her way down to the ice cream machine just outside the lunchroom.
There was a bench with a water fountain nearby, and some silk plants meant to relieve stress. Dorothy found it the perfect place to sit and be still and push all her bad thoughts away. Sometimes she would think about her life in Oz, sometimes not.
Sometimes she sat and thought about just walking out the door. Like her Aunt Em used to say, Dorothy weren’t no caged bird. She was meant to fly. She was meant to sing. But like most songbirds that spent a long time in their cages, she wasn’t so sure she could survive out there on her own anymore. She had a feeling her wings had atrophied beyond usefulness and were now just there to hold up her clothes. Anything resembling a killer instinct had been cowed by the drugs she was taking and the security blanket hospitality of the hospital. That, and well...she’d never been a killer had she? They were accidents.
So she’d fold her ice cream wrapper carefully so as not to get ice cream on her fingers, place it in the garbage, scoop up Toto and have a drink of water to get the ice cream milk off her teeth. By the time she got back upstairs she’d be smiling again. Just in time for more tests. Or more blood work.
“You take care, kiddo,” one of the security guards said to Alice. Dorothy turned back to the nurses’ station. They were getting ready to leave. The one standing to the left of Alice looked over at Dorothy and flashed her a predatory smile.
Dorothy could feel his eyes licking her skin. She pulled back from the edge of the couch. He smirked at her. His eyes moved down from Dorothy’s face. To where her chest would be, if he could see through the back of the couch. Back up to her face. Into her eyes…
Alice saw the look and followed it down to Dorothy.
Dorothy’s face burned. For a moment there were two sets of eyes on her, burning holes through her clothes and dancing on naked flesh. Then the blond girl looked over at the security guard and snickered.
“See something you like, pig? You got the rape eyes all over her.”
“What?” the security guard said. He looked away from both of them, his face guilty. “Just shut up and go sit down.”
“Aww Piggy can’t get his eats.” Alice’s eyes flashed dangerously. “You’re so fuckin disgusting, you know that? You probably look at little boys that way too, don’t you, faggot?”
The guard clenched his hands into hammy fists. He was turning scarlet, and for a moment Dorothy thought he was going to hit the girl.
It was amazing to watch this woman handle men. She was the prisoner here, make no mistake, but she was the one in control.
“Mike,” the other guard said. “Let’s go man, we’re done here.” He stepped by Alice and patted Mike on the shoulder.
Mike shook his head. Crisis averted. In the end, the wiser course of action was just to move on and diffuse the situation. He’d met a lot of girls like this; girls used to men doing what they wanted or intimidated by their beauty; getting drunk off the power of their own cooze. Sometimes they turned mean, like the ability to make a guy have an orgasm turned them into some kind of sexual messiah.
“Take care of that pretty head of yours,” he said, pointing to the swollen spot on the side of her head. “If I wrecked anything in there, they’re liable to keep you on this floor for the rest of your life.”
“Prick,” she said.
The guards turned after they got onto the elevator, both smiling. Mike waved at her as the doors closed. There was silence as Alice watched after the elevator a moment then turned and stalked over to the couch beside the one Dorothy was sitting on. She flopped down, crossing her arms over her chest. She stared at the floor.
Dorothy watched her, a coy smile played on her lips. Sitting closer to the woman now, Dorothy could see Alice was a few years older than she herself was. Harder, as though she was made of wood and covered in flesh. Dorothy could sense the hardness in her. There was lot of stress on her face. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Dark makeup under her eyes made her sympathetic.
But she was more than angry and stressed and exhausted, and Dorothy could see it plain as day. She was all those things and beautiful. Dorothy wondered what her lips tasted like.
“Well?” Alice said. “What the fuck are you looking at?” She’d turned to Dorothy and was staring hard at the girl.
“Umm, nothing,” Dorothy said. “I mean hi. I’m Dorothy.”
“I give a fuck,” said Alice. “Quit staring at me or I’ll bust your fuckin’ face open.”
Dorothy looked down at her knees and played with the hem of her shirt. “I just wanted to say thanks,” she mumbled, her face in her chest.
“What?’
“I uhm,” Dorothy said. She cleared her throat. Ventured a look at Alice. “I wanted to say thank you, like, for what you did with that guy and stuff.”
“Shit,” Alice said. “That goes back to before I walked in here. He fuckin’ knocked me out downstairs, almost busted my head open.”
“Really?” Dorothy said. “They actually hit you? I thought they weren’t allowed to do that.”
Alice smirked. “Yeah, well, the did. This was down in emergency somewhere, and there wasn’t anyone around to say different. Fucker speared me in the side when I turned around to clock him. I went down hard, smashed my head on the floor.”
“Holy crap,” Dorothy said. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’ll live.” Alice smiled; it was the most glorious thing Dorothy had ever seen. It was like sunrise on her face. “Shoulda seen what I did to his buddy.”
“You hit him?” Dorothy said. She scooped Toto under one arm and held him tight. The move made Alice look at her funny.
“Busted him in the face,” Alice said, mimicking the cross she’d used to down the security guard. “Broke his nose wide open.”
“No way,” Dorothy said. “Was he bleeding?”
“Heh. Yeah, like a pig. That’s all they are.” Alice fixed her sleeve. Straightened her shirt. When she spoke again her voice was soft, as though she’d suddenly thought of something important. “Just a bunch of pigs.”
“That’s so awesome,” Dorothy said. “I’ve never been in a fight before. And I don’t think I ever met a girl who was in a fight with three guys.”
“Yeah well,” Alice said. “Shit happens when you live rough. Girl’s gotta know how to defend herself.”
“I guess.” Dorothy looked down at her dog, as though milling the words over. When the silence started to weigh on her, she looked up again. “So, uhm, how long you staying?”
“Not very. I gotta get out of here.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Alice nodded.
“So what’s up with that dog?” she said, changing the subject. “Aren’t you a little old for stuffed animals?”
“This is Toto!” Dorothy said, giggling. “He’s just—well, I guess he’s an easy friend. I’ve had him since I was a baby, you know? He’s a Scottish terrier, and we had one when I lived with my folks before they died, and I guess Aunt Em thought it would make me feel better if I had a little stuffed puppy to pal around with.” She shrugged, as though there were nothing else left to say on the subject. She bounced
Toto on her knee, made him tilt his head with a flick of her wrist.
“Toto, say hello to the nice girl,” she said.
“Alice. Nice to meet you Toto.” She reached out to pet the stuffed pooch and Dorothy growled playfully. Alice withdrew her hand. “You going to bite me?”
“Maybe,” Dorothy said. She smiled at Alice. “Never know what’s down the road, right?”
Chapter 8
Alice fingered a crack in the black leather of the couch she was sitting on. Across from her, Dr Weller folded his fingers and looked over his glasses at her. It was sunny outside, but the light that filtered into the room was green and sickly. Just like everything else in the hospital, it had a terminal feel that made Alice’s skin crawl.
“So is this where I tell you how my dad fingered me when I was a baby and now I’m all fucked up from it?” Alice said. She laughed, uncomfortable by her own joke. She was uneasy though, and she sometimes said stupid shit when she was upset or nervous. She felt off keel here; she’d barely settled into her room when a nurse had dropped bye and told her about the meeting with the doctor. Now it was early afternoon, she’d been on the ward for two days, and she was ready to call it a day. But first she’d have to deal with Dr Phil and his psycho babble bullshit.
“Well,” Dr Weller said. “We can talk about that if you like. I thought we could spend a couple minutes getting to know each other before I started coming up with excuses for your behavior.”
Alice clapped her hands on her knees, took a big deep breath and flashed a smile at the doctor. “Great!” she said. “So where do you want to begin?”
“How about we start with an easy one?” Dr Weller said. “How are you feeling today, Alice?”
“Fine,” Alice said.
“Just fine?”
“Perfect!” Alice said. “Never better.”
“Any withdrawal pains or discomfort from your treatment?”
“Oh that,” Alice said. “What the hell did you guys do to me? I feel like shit.”
“They didn’t tell you?” Dr Weller said. “They administered Naloxone because you were in the middle of an opiate overdose. It’s like a vacuum cleaner for opiate molecules in your body. It’s supposed to ease withdrawal pains as long as you keep taking it.”
“I know what Naloxone is,” Alice said. “And it doesn’t ease the pain. I feel like I’m gonna barf. I have the sweats, too. Hot, right? Sexy.” She laughed, but it sounded angry.
“Could be worse,” I guess,” Dr Weller said.
Alice grunted. There was silence for a minute as Alice distanced herself from the conversation. She sounded whiny and she knew it. Dr Weller probably knew it, too. She wondered if he thought her natural state was as one of those prissy, weak-willed bitches who needed someone to take care of them. If it was, he was sorely mistaken. She was her own woman. Not somebody’s puppy.
“You’re all settled in?” Dr Weller said, finally breaking the gulf of silence between them.
“Settled?” Alice said. She smiled again, sat forward on the couch. She spread her hands out in front of her. The gesture said Let me lay it all out for you. “In all honesty doc, this really isn’t the place for me. I need to get out of here.”
“Well,” Dr Weller said. “That’s a pretty normal sentiment. Nobody really likes it here. The walls, the paint. It’s depressing. Even the drapes. I don’t like being here sometimes.”
“Like now?” Alice said.
“Not like now,” Dr Weller said. “I love having someone to talk to. But a lot of my job is paperwork and going over charts and stuff, and sometimes I’d just rather be off somewhere else.”
“Yeah,” Alice said. “That must really suck for you.” She settled back in the couch a bit. Let her hands drift to her sides.
“How about you?” Dr Weller said. “Do you like having people to talk to?”
“I guess,” Alice said. “Dunno, I never really think about it too much. I’m happy to be on my own. I can live rough with the best of em, I don’t care.”
“It’s good to be self sufficient,” He said. “Really shows a person where they stand.”
“You think half the suits in this town could live off the streets for more than three days?” Alice said. The idea seemed funny to her, like some sick universal joke. Truth was, she knew what half the suits in this town would be like after three days on the streets. They’d be sniveling, filthy, wounded little birds. That wasn’t a knock on them maybe; it was just what the streets did to you if you weren’t tough enough to stand on your own feet and face them.
“Oh I know they couldn’t,” Dr Weller said. “How long have you been on the streets?”
“Ahh, I dunno,” Alice said. “Like four years I guess. You stop counting after a while. It doesn’t matter so much.”
“Sounds like hard times,” Dr Weller said. “You ever talk to family? Your parents? A sister or brother maybe?”
Alice shook her head. “Naww, nothing,” she said. Her face turned sour, like she smelled something foul in the air. “My dad’s dead. He was a drunk driver. My mom and me...we don’t really want nuthin’ to do with each other, I think. I left when I was fourteen. I never looked back.” Well, she had looked back…once. Just long enough to give the finger. Her mom was so shocked that spit came out of her mouth. Don’t you never come back here, blond bitch. Don’t you never come back.
“Something happen?” Dr Weller asked.
“Like getting fingered?” Alice said. She laughed again. “Yeah man, it fucked me up bad. Daddy couldn’t keep his hands off his little girl, and now she’s a junkie hooker living on the streets. Christ.”
“It was an honest question,” Dr Weller said. “I was just wondering what would make a fourteen year old girl run away from home. Must have been pretty bad there.”
“I need a cigarette,” Alice said. “You got smokes on you, doc?”
“I don’t, I’m sorry,” he said. “Hospital doesn’t let us smoke in here anyway. Makes sense I suppose. They’ll kill you, it’s hypocritical of them to let us smoke on the property.”
“I need one bad,” Alice said, ignoring the public service announcement. “Fuck.”
“Listen Alice,” Dr Weller said. “If this line of discussion is distressing you, or you’re getting upset, we can talk about something else. You can talk about whatever you want.”
“I’m not upset,” Alice said. “I just need a smoke. I haven’t had any in days. These fuckers won’t let me off the floor to go out and bum one.”
It was more than just the smokes though. She’d killed someone. It was possible they hadn’t found the car yet, but how long after that before they found her DNA all over the guy? Wasn’t that what they did on all those crime shows about Las Vegas and Miami? Find the DNA, arrest the bad girl. She was like a forensic Christmas present in here, just waiting for someone to put the pieces in the right order and come collect her. They’d already taken her blood, and they had her real name. Alice didn’t think it took much more than that.
Worse, when she closed her eyes she was back in Wonderland. It made sleep a joke. She was beginning to wonder which was worse. Dealing with the nightmare of her waking life, or dealing with the nightmare that pulled her back in every time she closed her eyes. Maybe she was crazy, after all. Maybe not. Maybe this whole thing was the penny that would put her over.
She clenched her hands into fists. She scratched at her legs. She chewed her inside lip, looked about the room, and finally turned her gaze at the doctor.
“So how long are you guys going to keep me here?”
“Oh, I dunno.” Dr Weller looked thoughtful. “We need to get a handle on your current frame of mind, make sure you’re not too stressed out or anything. This is going to sound silly, but please bear with me. Do you ever feel like your shrinking or growing Alice? Like Rapidly?”
“What?” Alice said. What does he mean? Does he mean the little glass bottle? The mushrooms and the birthday cake? The hand written placard with the words EAT ME scr
atched on with red crayon? She’d gotten stuck in the rabbit house, she’d grown so fast. It wasn’t just scary that she was suddenly ten times her height, she’d been fucking terrified because the walls were pressing in on her from every side, and the ceiling was pushing down on her, and the way she was hunched over like that, unable to breath…
“Just a silly question,” Dr Weller said. “Sometimes people can feel like they’re suddenly growing inside their skin, or shrinking away from it. Has that ever happened to you?
“No,” Alice balked, and her face flushed. “That’s crazy.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. It felt like burnt ash was sticking to her tongue, and she clamped her hands over the bottom half of her face.