Finding Alice

by Melody Carlson

  “Wow, that’s really pretty.” Simon is standing beside me now. “I had no idea you were so gifted at this.”

  I shake my head. “Me neither.”

  “How about doing something like that on those tables?” he suggests, pointing to the game tables and coffee tables throughout the room. “That’d really brighten up the place.”

  So I go around and put a few greens, candles, ribbons, and ornaments here and there, and finally the room looks festive. I can’t help but smile as I look around with a strange sense of pride. I am amazed that I’m doing this. Here I expected to be locked up and drugged by now. I sigh and turn around to see how the tree is coming.

  “That looks nice,” I say as I walk over and pick up a box of ornaments. “Do you want me to hand you some of these for the top?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” And so I stand at the foot of the ladder and hand him ornaments, and I wonder how it is that I’ve never done anything like this before. And I’m surprised that I think this is fun.

  “About the residents,” I begin as I hand him a brass rocking horse. “Are they locked up against their will?”

  “No. Patients are only admitted willingly. You can’t just drop someone off here without his consent.”

  “But what about the gates, the fence?”

  “Residents can come and go as they like, although they have to comply with Dr. Golden’s rules.” He reaches for the red elf I am holding up for him. “The security is only to keep people out.”

  “To keep people out?”

  “Yeah, it probably sounds weird, but sometimes there are family members or friends of the patients who aren’t too helpful in the recovery process. That and the occasional curious gapers from the press, you know.”

  “The press?” I echo, aware of our previous game.

  “Well, what Dr. Golden is doing is fairly unusual. Some of his psychiatric peers are suspicious about his methods.”

  “What are his methods?” I ask as I hand him a flocked reindeer.

  “It’s not that he doesn’t believe in using medication, because there are some cases where it’s required. But even then he uses meds along with a lot of therapy and counseling. Mostly he’s trying to teach patients to retrain their ways of thinking. In essence to heal themselves, with help. Dr. Golden believes in healing the whole person, not just the brain. His treatment is mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual.”

  I don’t know what to think about all this since it doesn’t sound anything like Forest Hills. For a moment I think perhaps I am being tricked again and glance over my shoulder, partially expecting the guys in the white lab coats to bust in here any minute and drag me away.

  Simon climbs down from the ladder and looks around. “Wow. I think we’re done here. You did a really good job, Alice.”

  I smile for the second time and wonder if by tomorrow my face will be sore from this unusual activity. “Thanks. It was kind of fun.”

  Just then we begin to hear strains of Christmas music, and Julie appears with a plate of cookies. “I guess I should’ve put that music on while you kids were decorating, to get you into the proper Christmas spirit, you know. But better late than never.” Then she stops and looks around. “Hey, you guys are really good. That mantel looks spectacular. Did you do that, Simon?”

  He shakes his head and points to me. “That was Alice’s work.”

  She holds the cookie dish out toward me. “Then you get first pick here.”

  I hesitate, glancing over at Simon, then back at her. I wonder if there might be something in the cookies, like poison or a sedative.

  “It’s okay,” she says. “They’re made with real butter, but you look like you could afford a few extra calories.”

  So I take a candy cane–shaped cookie, then wait as Simon takes one just like mine. Playing Simon says again, I follow his lead and take a bite only after he has taken one first. I suspect he knows what I am doing.

  “So, Alice, are you coming back to our little party tonight?” asks Julie as she takes a bite of a Santa cookie.

  “Yeah,” says Simon eagerly. “Why don’t you come back with me?”

  I don’t know what to say now. The room looks so pretty that the idea of a party sounds surprisingly appealing. Yet I’m still not convinced that this isn’t just an elaborate trick, a setup to reel me in. However, it does occur to me that this is a whole lot of trouble for someone to go to just to set me up. But you never know. In a twisted way, it seems like the sort of trap that someone like Pastor John might arrange, especially since he’s so opposed to Christmas decorations and parties and such. I can just imagine him rubbing his hands together and thinking, “Aha, we’ve got her now.” Pretty tricky really. “I, uh, I don’t know,” I finally manage to stammer.

  “Oh come on,” urges Simon. “I think you’ll enjoy it. We’re all a little nutty around here, but we’re a lot of fun. Right, Julie?”

  She nods. “You got that right.” She leans over and peers at me. “But you better be warned. We don’t let the ‘normal’ people come, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yes,” says Simon. “They are much too boring.”

  “And ordinary,” she adds.

  I look from one to the other and wonder if they are pulling something over on me, but despite my misgivings, they seem sincere.

  “Say you’ll come,” says Simon.

  “I’ll come,” I repeat the words, wondering why on earth I did. Then I remember the game. I guess I’m just playing it too well.

  “Great!” Julie grins. “Well, I better get back to the kitchen. Guess I’ll see you two around seven then.”

  It’s already getting dusky as we drive along the curvy road that leads back down the hill. I want to tell Simon that I’ve changed my mind, that I’ve made a huge mistake, but he is talking about his work now. He’s telling me how great Dr. Golden is and how he’ll probably win the Nobel prize someday. I just sit there like a dummy and listen, wishing that everything he’s saying might actually be true.

  At the same time I hear Amelia, louder than ever, yelling at me and telling me that I’m a complete fool and that I’m so gullible I’ll believe anyone and asking how I got to be so stupid.

  “Shut up!” I yell and then realize I have said these words out loud.

  Simon looks at me, and I feel my face turning the same color as the glass Christmas balls I hung earlier.

  “I, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you,” I mutter.

  He nods. “Right. I thought maybe you didn’t.”

  We drive in silence through town now. Even Amelia is quiet for a blessed change. Finally, as we’re crossing the bridge, Simon speaks. “Look, Alice, I realize that you’re going through some hard stuff. Believe me, I understand. I really do. You need to know that I really do understand. And I want to help you, if I can. I want to be your friend and help you work your way through this. And just for the record, I don’t think you’re really crazy, okay? Can you believe me?”

  I’m not sure what I believe right now, but I nod and pretend that I do. After all, Simon says.

  “All right then,” he says. “I’ll be back here a little before seven.” He is parked in front of his aunt’s house now. “By the way, just to warn you, this is usually a dress-up kind of affair, but don’t worry. I realize you probably don’t have anything like that with you. So you can wear anything you want, okay? I don’t want you to think you’ve got to dress up to come tonight.”

  I nod mutely as I open the car door and let myself out. I feel I might be someone else as I walk into the house, someone who has a chance at whatever normal might be. But then who would I be? For a moment I am terrified that I will become Amelia and start nagging and screaming at everyone I meet. But no, there’s someone else, and I try to remember what happened to Alice.

  chapter TWENTY-FOUR

  A Princess Story

  Faye looks up and greets me as soon as I come into the house. “Did you have fun, dear?” she asks eagerly. She looks comfortable in her chair
with Juliet and Cheshire both curled in her lap. Her news show on the radio is just ending, and she reaches over to turn it off, looking back at me expectantly. Cheshire jumps from her lap and struts over to me, waving his tail like a flag as he rubs against my leg.

  “I guess so.” I pick up my cat and sit down in the padded rocker and sigh. This is all I really need—a warm house, a cat, and a rocking chair. I think could live happily ever after just like this. I lean back and try to relax.

  “Simon is such a nice boy.” She smiles. “Don’t you think?”

  I nod. “Yes. Nice.”

  “Did you meet Dr. Golden?”

  I eye her curiously, wondering if this might not have been a setup after all. “He wasn’t there,” I answer.

  “Too bad. He’s such a good man. I’ve gone up to his place with Simon before. I hear that his ideas in psychiatry are quite revolutionary.”

  I study her and wonder what she is getting at, but she simply adjusts her glasses and picks up her knitting.

  “Simon wants me to come to the Christmas party.” I say the words as if it’s a recording on an answering machine. I wait for her reaction.

  “That’s nice, dear. When is that?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Her knitting falls into her lap, and she looks at me as if I’ve just announced that the president is coming to visit. “Oh dear, you must start getting ready then.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s a party, dear.” As if that explains everything.

  I shrug.

  “Well, you’ll have to, you know, fix yourself up.” She sets her knitting aside and gently nudges Juliet from her lap as she pushes herself to her feet. “Goodness, what will you wear?”

  I look down at my jeans. “This, I guess.”

  “No, no, no …” She shakes her head, but her expression is thoughtful. “No, I’m sure we can do much better than that.” She rubs her chin, then looks at the clock. “First off, we’ll have an early dinner. Can’t send you off with an empty tummy. Now, do you think you could manage to make us something, Alice?”

  “I, uh, I guess so.” I’m not entirely sure about this, but after my success at decorating today, my confidence has increased a notch or two.

  “Good. I’ll go through my closet and see what I can find for you. Then you’ll have to bathe, and we’ll fix your hair, and …” She claps her hands together now. “Oh this is going to be such fun. I just hope I can find my little camera.”

  Suddenly I feel like it’s prom night, or perhaps I’m Cinderella. But in the next instant I imagine myself wearing old lady clothes, and my illusion pops like a bubble. Why should I care? It’s just a nut-house party anyway. I take Cheshire to the kitchen with me and ask him what I should fix for dinner. He suggests sardines, but I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. I open the fridge and the cupboards to view the groceries Faye bought today, and I finally decide on tuna fish sandwiches. I know it’s not very clever, but I hope that perhaps I can handle something this simple. Besides it was Cheshire’s second choice.

  I open the can, then drain the juice from the tuna into the sink. So far so good. Then I mix the tuna with some mayonnaise and a little bit of celery that I chopped myself on the cutting board (now that was clever!). Then I spread this onto slices of whole wheat bread and add some fresh lettuce leaves before I cut these into diagonals and set them on a pretty blue plate. All in all, I am quite proud of my accomplishment. I hope that Faye will like it too. I am impressed that I actually used a knife without freaking out or even cutting myself. That is no small thing. I keep thinking I should fix something else to go with this but am not sure what. Finally I decide on bananas. I know this is not very fancy, but I think it makes for a healthy meal, and, besides, the colors look nice together.

  Faye smiles when she sits at the table. I don’t know if it’s because of my culinary skills or whatever she’s concocting for me in her bedroom. I have imagined her back there, mysteriously stirring up some sort of magic potion that will make me beautiful, or perhaps she is spinning straw into a golden gown. I must admit she looks rather ordinary just now as she wears her lavender cardigan and bows her head to ask a blessing.

  “Dear Father, we are so happy to be with you this evening. We thank you for this fine food that Alice has so lovingly prepared. And we pray that she and Simon will have a delightful evening at the Goldens’ Christmas party. Thank you so much for your love and mercy. Amen.”

  I repeat her amen, and then we eat. I think that my tuna fish sandwich–making skills are first-rate, and Faye appears to agree.

  “That was very good,” she says as she peels her banana. “You are a fine cook, Alice.”

  “Thanks.”

  I start to clean up, but she tells me to leave it. “Come and see what I have for you first.”

  So I follow her to her bedroom, preparing myself for some bright polyester, floral-print dress, perhaps topped with one of her pastel cardigans and the gaudy costume jewelry she is so fond of wearing every day. I imagine myself going to the party as a colorful clown, and the image doesn’t even disturb me very much. It seems almost fitting.

  As a result I’m completely unprepared for the magnificent gown lying across her pink chenille bedspread. Images of spinning hay into beautiful cloth suddenly seem quite believable. I stare in amazement at the fairy dress. The fabric is a silvery blue, some kind of satin or taffeta, where you can see two colors at once, kind of sparkly and magical. It has a smooth bodice with soft gathers of fabric around the neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves. The waist looks tiny with a long full skirt pouring out of it like an iridescent waterfall.

  I am speechless at first but then manage to ask, “Where did you get this, Faye?” Right now, she could tell me that she waved her magic wand and pixies flew in and delivered it, and I wouldn’t doubt her.

  She laughs. “From the back of my closet.”

  “It’s too beautiful,” I say, stepping back. “I can’t possibly wear something so exquisite and—”

  “Nonsense. You must wear it. The lonely little dress desperately needs to go to a party tonight.” She sighs happily. “And it’s full of good memories too. Do you know that the last time I wore it was at the Twilight Room right before George went to Korea? It was in December too. Fifty years ago.” She smiles dreamily. “Oh, I just know this is meant to be, Alice.”

  I think I’m living in a dream as I bathe. The cat boxes are not so smelly tonight since I freshened them all just yesterday. One of my regular chores here is cat-box patrol, and I take my assignment seriously. But as I lie in the warm, violet-scented water, I imagine myself in the lovely room that I helped to decorate today. I pretend I am a fairy princess or Cinderella or even the prom queen, although I never went to a prom in high school or any other dances for that matter. Our conservative church would not condone such immorality. I wonder if I had my life to live over again, making my own choices about these things this time, would I have turned out any differently? Would I still be just as crazy? I remember that Simon thinks I’m not crazy. Of course, Simon doesn’t know everything.

  I emerge from the tub and put on the flannel robe that Faye has loaned me during my visit. She said it was a Christmas gift from her sister but that she’s never been fond of the somber plaid colors. Too manly, she says. But I like it just fine. I tiptoe back to her bedroom where I hear her humming happily, and I decide that I must be Cinderella after all, and Faye is my fairy godmother. I wonder if Simon will show up in a pumpkin coach tonight.

  “Sit down right here,” she commands when she sees me. “We’ll fix your hair first.”

  I obey, sitting down at her old-fashioned dressing table. It has a glass top and a skirt of faded pink roses. I look into the mirror and pretend that I am not so pale and skinny and plain. I imagine that I am beautiful.

  “You have lovely hair, Alice,” she comments as she fingers the curls. “With all your natural waves, it’ll be easy to make it look pretty. Now my hair was al
ways straight as an arrow, so difficult to pin up nicely.”

  I glance at her gray hair, curled within an inch of its life. “But it looks so curly now.”

  She pats her head and smiles. “Perms. I get it done by Margie at Perfect Look every other month.” Then she begins to pile my hair on top, curling strands around her fingers and slipping in a hairpin here and there. I’m not sure if she really knows what she’s doing or not, but I decide I don’t care. Just the feeling of being touched, ever so gently, is so soothing and comforting that I wish she would go on and on for hours. But soon her hands stop moving, and I can tell she is done. I realize that my eyes have been closed, and I open them to see what she has created.

  “That’s nice,” I say as I peer at my strange reflection.

  She nods. “Very pretty, if I do say so.” Then she frowns. “Do you think we could put a little color on your face, Alice?”

  “I, uh, I don’t know. What do you mean?”

  “I thought just a little lipstick and perhaps a little pink in your cheeks.” She looks slightly embarrassed. “It might be nice.”

  I feel bad for not trusting her. “Sure, Faye, I guess that’s okay. I’ve never been one to use makeup.”

  She chuckles. “Well, in my day a girl didn’t go anywhere without her compact and lipstick.”

  I close my eyes again, trying to breathe deeply and just relax. Even if Faye makes me look completely silly, who am I to complain? Once again, I notice how the physical attention is very comforting as I feel her applying something to my lips, then dabbing and rubbing my cheeks gently. Next she puts something soft and silky over my nose, cheeks, and chin. It has a gentle fragrance that reminds me of the smell of sheets that have been line dried. I suspect it is powder, but it feels so soft and smooth, I imagine it to be fairy dust.