Alice & Dorothy

by Jw Schnarr

  The steam from the heat was fogging the glass, and Mirror-Alice smiled. Her teeth were shards of broken china. Alice recognized them from the tea party. Every tooth was a smiling image of Dorothy waving and holding that stupid fucking dog. Some of them had tornados in the background. Some of them had blue cars.

  Alice waved and the steam from the sink suddenly filled the room. Then she staggered over to the toilet and puked bile, cheeseburger and foaming beer. The force of the act packed her nose with vomit, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. She panicked, snorted partially digested hamburger back out of her sinuses and into her throat, setting off her gag reflex again. She vomited a bright stream of rainbow coloured froth into the toilet. The beer and grease smell seemed to be dripping from her pores like hot sweat. Bubbles popped in her ears, and sparkles were dancing on the edge of her vision. She gasped a long, jagged breath, bringing tears to her eyes, coughed more hamburger meat out of her nose, and tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. There was slime all over her hands. She’d had her hands in the toilet.

  Now she reached out and grabbed the throttle on the back of the toilet. There was a woosh of cold air as the toilet washed away her filth, and Alice was on her knees, hands curled around the toilet seat like a life preserver, her face inches from the streaming ice water. She could smell toilet cleaner, but there was also a lingering, forbidden taint of human waste. She gagged again but caught hold of herself. She ran her tongue along her teeth, collected a puke slime coating and spit it into the toilet. Her face was rippling in the water and she felt a splash of ice on her cheek. Her reflection in the water was alien. As the water calmed Alice saw that it wasn’t her at all, it was the Hater. He looked like his face was turned inside out. He smiled up at her and maggots dripped from his teeth. His left eye was a bleeding mess. His eye was deflated, giving him a fiendish, squinting look.

  I can have you any time I want, he said quietly, inside her ear. Just remember that girlie. I’m not in here with you. You’re in here with me.

  “You don’t own me,” Alice whispered. “I’m nobody’s whore.”

  You are. You are everyone’s whore. You belong to the world now.

  “No. I’m free.”

  Really? the Hater said. His voice was crushed glass on her eardrums. Riddle me this, girlie. Where’s your gun? We’ll see how free you are when the cops match it to the hole in that guy’s head.

  “He was...he raped me,” Alice said, and started to cry.

  Shh, pretty plaything, the Hater said. Alice felt him rubbing her head. We both know you deserved it, didn’t you?

  Slowly, Alice nodded. “Yes. Yes I did.”

  It’s alright, the Hater said. I am always with you. Sleep now. Sleep.

  And Alice did.

  Chapter 21

  After Dorothy watched Alice retreat to the safe haven of the bathroom, she could only think of one thing: You’ve done it again. All it took was four words and Dorothy’s good mood, like a house of cards stacked on the back of a sleeping dog, came crashing down around her.

  She hated the thought of Alice being mad at her. The girl was like a magnet; Dorothy could feel it whenever she was near. She was being dragged along with Alice because her heart and her body felt that pull, like a jar of ball bearings, rolling along toward Alice and unable to stop. Tumbleweeds, maybe, but that didn’t do her feelings justice. Neither did ball bearings. Ball bearings were too cold. What she felt around Alice was white hot and screaming, and it wouldn’t be denied.

  She got up and walked over to the door. Waves of Alice’s presence tickled Dorothy’s senses. Her blond haired beauty was inches away, her perfect body pressed tight against the door in case Dorothy tried to open it. Probably looking at herself in the mirror and thinking What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

  Dorothy pressed her hand against the door. “You sure you don’t need any aspirin or anything?” She said quietly.

  “I’m Fine!” Alice barked. There was a quick moment of fumbling in the bathroom and then the lock on the door clicked into place. Alice coughed, to cover it up, but the click was louder on this side of the door. Everyone knew that.

  It was loudest in Dorothy’s heart.

  Dorothy ran her fingers along the painted faux-grain of the wood. The sound of the lock was like a slap in the face. Rejected, she withdrew and walked instead over to the television. Without thinking she flipped it over to the weather channel.

  She wasn’t allowed to watch it in the Hospital because Dr Weller thought it encouraged her to think about tornados. She still thought, sometimes, when the nurses were busy or when Dr Weller was with a patient. It was good to know which way the wind was blowing. Aunt Emily used to say it pays to be on your toes. Growing up in the American Midwest had given Old Aunt Emily a keen nose for the weather. She could tell days before a storm hit that one was on the way. Like most old people, she was equipped with built in barometers and weather detectors: her hips ached, her sinuses acted up, and she would get what she termed The Terrible Arthritis in her wrists and hands.

  Dorothy had never been so blessed, and so had to rely on the science of the weatherman; Low and high pressure fronts, cyclical weather patterns, prevailing winds. And, as Aunt Emily had sometimes said: When in doubt, open the window and stick your nose in the air. The sweet, earthy smell of a tornado was mixed with the yellow stink of brimstone. Aunt Emily wouldn’t hear about conflicting pressure systems that funneled topsoil and pollen into the air. A tornado was the work of the devil, through and through.

  Auntie Em always laughed at Dorothy’s insistence that tornados started on the ground and were flung into the sky by circumstance. If that was the case, the old woman said, there’d be tornados springing up everywhere. I’d be able to grow ‘em in my garden.

  But she was wrong. Dorothy had science behind her, and all Untie Em had was a million years of homespun country logic. That was fine if you wanted to find the best fishing holes or you needed to know when to plant your crops. Predicting tornados was a science. Hell, it was even more than that. It was a high art.

  Dorothy heard Alice muttering something in the bathroom but she couldn’t make out the words. She wondered if talking to herself was something Alice did a lot, or whether the stress of the last few days somehow made it worse. The word crazy danced across her thoughts, but it was a dirty word that tasted like burnt onions. She pushed it as far back in her brain as she could, until it was grabbed by flying monkeys and disappeared from sight.

  The weather man said a warm wet front was coming. Expect rain. Dorothy decided she would go see if she could track down some Tylenol, just in case Alice changed her mind. The woman had saved her life today. She deserved to take it easy. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.

  Dorothy grabbed one of the door keys and stepped outside. The weatherman was right; it was definitely getting warmer, and the wind had picked up noticeably. It was crisp and left her skin tingly. She skipped past the other motel rooms and across the parking lot. The main office was just ahead. It was a bland looking stucco building with large windows and cancerous yellow light seeping out into the night air. She sidestepped a puddle and pulled the door open, and a chime rang in a back room somewhere. Behind two panes of glass was a skinny guy in a Charlie Brown shirt. He was watching television with his feet up. A tray of half-eaten chicken wings was sitting on the counter.

  “Hey,” he said, looking up. “You need a room?”

  “I’m actually here already,” Dorothy said. For a moment she misheard him. She could have sworn he’d said Back so soon, but of course that didn’t make sense because she’d never been there before.

  “Oh yeah?” the guy said, sitting up. “Funny, I don’t remember seeing you come in.” He cocked an eyebrow and was speaking with a fake accent, like he’d just become involved in a racy secret between the two of them.

  “My friend got the room for us,” Dorothy said. “I just came looking for some Tylenol or something for a headache.”

  “Wh
ich room?” the guy said.

  “What?”

  “I asked which room,” he said. “I didn’t see you come in, so I can’t be sure if you’re telling the truth or not.” He smiled lewdly at her and winked at some joke Dorothy couldn’t begin to guess at.

  “Oh,” Dorothy said. “Umm,” —she pulled a door key out of her pocket.”108.”

  “Denise,” the guy said, laughing. The phone started ringing. “Hold on a sec.” He picked up the line.

  Dorothy stood there a moment, unsure of what to do next. There was a coin machine in the corner full of condiments, however, so she headed toward that.

  “Yeah, Blue Moon Motel,” the guy said into the phone. Then: “I just said it was, didn’t I?”

  The machine contained shampoo, cigarettes, little bars of soap, and hand sanitizers. There were condoms and antacids. On the top row were Aspirin and Tylenol, for the discerning taste.

  “I dunno buddy,” the guy behind the counter said. “You gotta be a little more specific than that. They’re all pretty blonds.”

  Dorothy half turned. Suddenly the painkillers weren’t so important. Slowing her heart down and being able to breathe again were.

  “Last Name?” the guy said. “What? Presents? Yeah, I’ll hold on.”

  He looked up at Dorothy and shook his head. He brought up his hand like a gun to his temple and pretended to shoot himself with it. Dorothy didn’t respond. She was still trying to stop the boat engine that had suddenly fired up in her chest. Someone is looking for Alice. Oh god please, no more cops or drug dealers. I’m not sure I can take it.

  “That doesn’t sound like anyone who’s been here,” the guy said. “Hold on a sec, I’ll check the roster.”

  He pulled the phone down from his face and pushed the receiver against his chest. “You need change for that machine?” he said, smiling at Dorothy.

  “Yeah.” She shook her head. “I mean no. I got some, thanks.”

  The guy nodded. He put the phone back to his ear. “Yeah,” he said. “I got nobody here by that name...No. Oh, Pleasance?” The guy behind the counter suddenly snapped his fingers and motioned for Dorothy to come to the window. “Wait, he said. Do you mean Denise?”

  Dorothy’s heart double-flipped in her chest.

  “Oh, okay. Well listen pal, if you don’t know who that is then it’s not the right person. No, I’m not gonna put you through to her room...Because it obviously ain’t who you’re looking for. Oh, Okay. I’m a big asshole then. Yeah, fuck you too.”

  He slammed the phone down. “Christ,” he said. “This town is full of fuckin’ morons.”

  “Yeah,” Dorothy said. She was suddenly too sticky and sweaty, too afraid. The walls and the lights in the room were too yellow. The guy behind the glass looked too much like a caged tiger.

  “You get your Tylenol?” the guy said, grinning at her.

  “No,” Dorothy said. “I umm—I forgot my change.”

  “Ahh, yeah?” the guy said. “Hold on a sec.” He ducked down behind the counter. It was all Dorothy could do to keep from turning on a heel and running out of the room. When he reappeared he had a handful of small packages in his hand. They were single serving Tylenols.

  “Here,” he said, tossing them under the slot in the glass.

  “Oh,” Dorothy said. “Really?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Delivery guy is a fuckin’ moron too. I’ve got a box of these things back here. Besides, you’re my favourite customer.”

  “Thanks,” Dorothy said. She scooped the pills into her hand.

  “Hey,” the guy said. “You wanna buy some weed?”

  “Oh, no,” Dorothy said. She shook the packets of pills in her hand. “This will do the trick.”

  “Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t,” the guy said. “You change your mind you let me know, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime,” the guy said. “Say hey to Denise for me. You guys get bored you come back and see me.”

  Dorothy didn’t respond. She didn’t trust her voice. Instead she turned and walked out of the room. She could feel the guys eyes on her ass, but she didn’t care. All she wanted to do was get back to Alice. Or Denise.

  Whoever she was. More importantly, who was on the phone? The hospital? She dismissed the thought immediately. How could they possibly know where they were. Unless they had spies around watching for the girls...

  No. That wasn’t possible. The hospital wouldn’t waste their time on something like that for a couple runaways. Either Alice and Dorothy would come back to the ward or they wouldn’t. They didn’t hunt down strays. But the cops might be looking for them. Or worse. Maybe Alice’s druggie boyfriend was looking for them. Either of those might be true. They’d stolen a car, ripped a dealer off for what she figured was a lot of money worth of drugs, and Alice had done something horrible in the hours leading up to her overdose and arrival at The General. There was a solid argument for both scenarios in the basic facts of their past few days together. It could be police or drug dealers. Hell, for all Dorothy knew, it could be both.

  Dorothy let out a long breath and hurried across the lot back to their room. It’s too big for you to handle, she thought. Let Alice do it, she’s good at this stuff. Alice was strong and smart. She was the Lion and Scarecrow in one. She even had hair the colour of the Lion’s fair mane. Meeting her was more than life affirming. It’s fate. We belong together. Forever.

  She reached the door and slipped the electronic key into the slot, and when the light over it turned from red to green she threw the door open.

  Alice was sitting on the bed wrapped in a towel. Her hair hung like wet straw across her shoulder. In her lap was the brick of heroin, the corner peeled back and exposed. She looked up when the door opened but made no attempt to cover the drugs.

  “Oh hey,” she said, her eyes cloudy and dream-like. “You’re just in time.”

  Chapter 22

  “What’s...going on?” Dorothy shut the door behind her. “What are you doing?”

  “Nuthin,” Alice said. “I got sick. My stomach is really doing funny things. And my head is killing me.” She wiped her hair away from her face.

  “So...you’re going to do heroin to get rid of it?”

  “Well no,” Alice said. “Well, a little. I’m just smoking it.”

  Dorothy shook her head. “Are you kidding me?”

  “It’s not as bad when you smoke it,” Alice said. “It’s like smoking pot.”

  Dorothy sat down on the bed beside her and tossed the little packets of Tylenol in front of her. “I got you these.” She folded her arms and looked down at Alice’s thigh. The room smelled like beer and vomit, but Alice smelled clean. Her thigh was a patch of milk white perfection.

  Alice leaned over and kissed her cheek. “What a sweetie,” she said.”You want to take a pull of this?”

  Dorothy made a sour face. No thanks. I don’t wanna overdose.”

  Alice laughed. “You can’t overdose when you’re smoking it. You’d have to smoke this whole brick.”

  “Really?” Dorothy said. She scratched at an itchy spot in her hair.”I didn’t know that.”

  “Oh yeah,” Alice said. She elbowed the girl playfully. “You can’t believe those Saturday morning T.V. drug warnings for kids. They’re all bullshit. Most people who do heroin are smokers. That’s how I started.”

  “But you shoot needles now,” Dorothy said.

  “Well yeah, now I do,” Alice said. “You know how much it costs to shoot heroin? I can get bombed off my head for like five bucks. I used to burn through a hundred bucks a night easy when I was a Jolly Popper. Smokin’ is nuthin’. Smokin’ is what you do to get rid of the blues.”

  “What’s it feel like?” Dorothy said.

  “Kind of like a warm bath, but inside you,” Alice said. She smiled when she said it, like she was thinking of Christmas. “You should do some with me.”

  “I don’t think so,” Dorothy said. “That sh
it will kill you.”

  “It’s safe. Trust me.”

  And those were the words that stuck in Dorothy’s head. Trust me. This was a girl she had escaped from the hospital with. She’d watched Alice beat a man half to death saving her from being raped and probably killed. Would Alice ever do anything to hurt her?

  The answer, sadly, was yes. Dorothy wasn’t an idiot. She could see the instability in Alice’s eyes, the way she mumbled and talked to herself, or the way she’d suddenly fly into a rage and spout half sentences of random gibberish. There was something wrong with Alice. She might be totally crazy. Of course the world was totally crazy, and the world would also like to hurt Dorothy, but there wasn’t anything to be done about that. She could escape the world, given half a chance. There was no way to escape Dorothy though. The blond goddess was inside her forever..