Finding Alice

by Melody Carlson

“Okay, Simon, if it’s the best facility, then how can I possibly afford it?” I demand. Suddenly I am eager to expose these people for who I honestly believe them to be. “Look, I’m not even sure if my mom still has insurance on me. And I am basically penniless.”

  Simon laughs now. “Don’t worry, Alice, it’s not about the money. Dr. Golden’s wife, Julie, inherited millions about ten years ago. She’s invested most of it in the clinic. They use a sliding scale for residents.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “But why are they so eager to get me in there, Simon? Don’t you think that’s a little suspicious in itself? I mean, first they tell me about this yearlong waiting list, and the next thing you know they say I can come right in.”

  “It’s only because they really like you, Alice. I think it was Julie’s idea.”

  I shake my head. “Something about this just really bugs me.”

  He looks me in the eyes and says, “Okay, tell me then, what exactly do you think their motives are? Do you honestly think they’re after your money? You say you don’t have any.”

  “There are things beside money.”

  “Maybe they want to knock you out and steal your liver? You mentioned something like that at the Christmas party.” He laughs now. “And, no offense, but that’s not a terribly unique form of paranoia. We get that a lot. And the guinea-pig thing. A lot of patients are afraid they will become human guinea pigs.”

  I nod, as if he is helping to make my point. “See? How can we know these things don’t happen?”

  “By going up there and taking the tour, Alice. Just look around. See if you find anything questionable going on.”

  “Well, maybe I will!” I stand up and move toward the door. I am fed up with Simon, and I’m almost ready to take back my forgiveness for the car wreck. But then I see him lying there all strapped up, and I can’t do it.

  He is smiling though. “Well, I’m going to be really praying for you, Alice. I’m going to specifically ask God to break through all the nonsense in your head long enough for you to figure out that the Goldens are perfectly legit. I’m praying that you’ll know they only want to help people.”

  Sometimes I wonder who’s really delusional in this world. I just smile and tell Simon to take it easy.

  “Will you come back and visit me?” he asks in a little boy voice.

  I consider this. I don’t want to lie, but I don’t really want to come back either. It’s one thing when I’m stuck here as a patient, but I’m not sure I could return of my own free will. It’s beginning to feel much too confining, almost like a Forest Hills sort of place. “I’ll try,” I tell him. At least this is honest.

  He frowns. “Then I probably won’t see you again until I get out of here.”

  I shrug. “It’s hard to say, Simon. The truth is, I don’t know what will happen with me. I mean, I’d like to tell you that I’m going straight up to the Goldens’, that I’m going to sign myself in, and that everything will be hunky-dory by the time you get out of here. But I just can’t do that.”

  “I know. I appreciate your honesty. I hope you believe I’m being honest with you. Why would I lie?”

  “I don’t know. But then there’s so much I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder what difference it makes whether something is the truth or not. Reality is sort of in the eyes of the beholder, don’t you think?”

  “Only when you live in a world all by yourself.” All by myself. I think about this. I wonder if I can even find such a place. I wonder if I would be happy there. I’m standing at the door now, feeling as if I’m seeing Simon for the last time. To my surprise, this makes me sad. I think I am about to cry.

  “Alice,” he says in a quiet and serious voice, “I hope you know how much I care about you.”

  “I care about you, too.” Playing Simon says again?

  “No, I mean I really care about you.” He taps himself on the chest. “It’s like you’re inside of me, you know?”

  I just stare at him and wonder how I could possibly be inside of him. Sometimes I’m not even inside of me. I shake my head and walk slowly back to my room, wiping the tears as I go.

  I sit on my bed and try to imagine what it feels like to really love someone. I thought I loved Shay last fall. Now I can barely remember what he looked like. If I saw him on the street today, I would just keep going. That’s not love.

  I think about the feeling I experienced just now as I was leaving Simon’s room. It felt like a blade was twisting in my heart. But if that’s love, it sure doesn’t feel very good. I have enough pain in my life without willingly inviting more. Besides, how can I possibly love anyone when I don’t even love myself? I wouldn’t know where to begin.

  Begin with me.

  chapter THIRTY-ONE

  A Disagreeable Agreement

  Apparently the hospital had communicated with my mother about my impending release. I know I didn’t tell her. When she showed up here this morning, she also proceeded to tell me that she’d had a long conversation with Dr. Spangler about me. This has me seriously worried.

  “Is there anything you need to take with you?” she asks as she hands me a bag that has some of my clothes from home in it.

  I shake my head and go into the bathroom. I really hadn’t expected her to come today. I had hoped to return to Faye’s and just quietly fade into the woodwork for a few days or until I figure things out.

  “I spoke to your friend Faye on the phone last night,” she calls to me through the metal door. “I told her I was coming to get you today, to take you home. She asked if you wanted to pick up your cat, but I told her it might be better if she just kept it for the time being.”

  I step out now, still buttoning my shirt as I stare at her in disbelief. Who does she think she is to butt into my life like this? I’m a grown woman. Well, sort of. “But that is my cat, Mom. I can’t just leave him behind.”

  “But Faye seemed perfectly happy to keep him—”

  “Of course she would keep him. She’s a sweet lady, and she loves cats.”

  “But don’t you think it would be better—”

  “No, Mom, I don’t think it would be better. I’m beginning to think it might be better if you didn’t interfere so much. This is my life, and like it or not, you’re going to have to let me live it.”

  She starts to cry now, and I feel absolutely rotten. I’m a perfectly horrible person. A despicable daughter. Maybe Pastor John is right. Maybe I do have demons in me.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. It’s just that I’m so frustrated and confused right now. I think I need to have some kind of control over my life.”

  She slumps down into the chair, setting her purse on her lap. This is when I notice that she has on pants. Navy blue wool pants with creases down the front. I am amazed. I have never seen my mother wear anything but skirts, dresses, jumpers—mostly homemade by her.

  “Mom!” I exclaim. “You’re wearing pants!”

  She looks up and faintly smiles. “Yes. I don’t think God minds. Do you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  Now for some unexplainable reason, seeing Mom in pants makes me willing to take the risk of going home with her, but I ask her if we can stop by and pick up my cat first.

  “Of course, dear,” she says. “If you think that’s best.”

  I nod firmly. “I do.”

  It seems that Faye is expecting us because her teakettle is just beginning to whistle as she opens the door to let us in. Of course, I know it’s just her normal routine to have midmorning tea, but I tell myself she is doing it for us. It feels so good to be back in her cozy little house. I can tell my mother is uncomfortable with all the cats and the hair and the smell. She stands like a soldier at attention, as if she’s afraid to touch anything or get hair on her nice new pants, but Faye’s cats and house don’t bother me in the least. I take time to greet each cat by name, lavishly petting them and laughing as their hair floats in the air and causes my uptight mother to sneeze. More than ever I wish I could just stay right he
re in the cat house.

  Faye has made a loaf of banana bread and announces that it’s cool enough to cut now. My mother looks as if she’s afraid to eat it, as if she thinks the cats may have contaminated it somehow. This idea had never occurred to me before, and I’m not even sure that I would care. For some reason the cats seem much safer to me than most humans. I eat a slice of banana bread without reservation.

  “Have you told your mother about the Goldens?” asks Faye as she refills my cup with amber tea. I think it is jasmine today.

  “The Goldens?” repeats my mother. She glances at me with what feels like suspicion.

  “Dr. Golden is Simon’s boss,” I say as if that explains everything.

  “But what about them?” asks my mother.

  I wonder how much Faye actually knows. She seems oblivious and just smiles and takes another piece of banana bread.

  “Dr. Golden runs a home,” I say quickly. “Kind of a psychiatric hospital, you know. Only they say it’s different from other places. Simon works up there.”

  “It’s a beautiful place,” says Faye.

  “You’ve been there?” I ask. Is she involved somehow? “Oh yes, lots of times. I teach knitting classes up there sometimes. When there’s a resident or two who wants to learn how. Knitting is very soothing,” she says this to my mother as if she should give it a try, and I’m thinking perhaps Faye is onto something here. “But it’s a lovely place. I wish I could live up there myself sometimes.”

  “You could pretend to be crazy,” I suggest, thinking I’m being funny.

  “Oh, lots of people think that I am.” She laughs. “And I don’t mind really.”

  “I think you’re one of the sanest people I know,” I tell her. Then I wonder how much that can mean coming from someone like me.

  “Would you want to go there?” my mother asks me, very tentatively, as if she thinks she’s treading on a minefield, which is probably not too far from the truth.

  “I don’t really want to go anywhere.” I turn and glare at her.

  “Oh, I know, honey. I just mean would you want to—”

  “In fact, if I could have my way, and if Faye didn’t mind, I would prefer to stay right here.” Even as the words are out of my mouth, I know that I have hurt my mother’s feelings again. I sit there like an idiot and just watch as fresh tears spill down her cheeks. I am such a stupid and evil person!

  “There, there,” soothes Faye as she pats my mother’s hand. “Alice has been through a very difficult time. I’m sure she didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “It’s true, Mom. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I plead. “But I just don’t feel right about going home to Warren right now. Something about being stuck in that town, with the old church nearby, well, just really upsets me. I don’t know if I can take—” I realize that I am on my feet now, pacing back and forth across Faye’s tiny kitchen and wringing my hands. I must appear totally crazy to them. Not exactly the look I was going for. I sit back down and take my mom’s hands in mine. I saw this on television once, back when I had a life and a roommate who liked to watch old movies with me. It seems just the sort of pose you’d take when you want to communicate something true and hard and honest with someone you care about.

  “Mom, I really do love you, and I appreciate what you’re trying to do—both for me and for yourself. I mean it’s so cool that you’re wearing pants now.” I glance at Faye, and for some odd reason she seems to understand. “But I just don’t think it’s a good idea for me to come home with you right now.”

  “But what will you do, Alice?” She shakes her head. “You can’t just stay with Faye forever.”

  I look at Faye. “I’m not even sure I can stay with her at—”

  “Of course you can stay, dear. I love having you here. You’re a good helper and fine companion, no trouble at all.”

  “But what about school and …” I can tell my mom wants to say something about my “illness” or the “diagnosis” or even the word itself, “schizophrenia,” but she can’t make herself do it. For that matter, neither can I.

  “I just need to figure things out,” I assure her. “I don’t really know what I should do next. I mean I’d like to go back to school, finish my degree, but I don’t think I can handle that yet.”

  “Perhaps you just need to rest a bit,” suggests Faye. “Recover from your injuries and see what happens next. The good Lord has ways of leading us when we keep our eyes on him. I’m sure he is leading you now, Alice, even as we speak.”

  Just then Cheshire jumps in my lap, and I begin to relax as I stroke his soft coat. “Yes, I think you’re right, Faye.”

  My mom nods now, as if she has resigned herself to this sudden change of plans. “But what about these Goldens, Alice? They sound like good people.”

  I nod. “They seem nice.”

  I’m afraid to say too much or to voice any concerns. I’m certainly not going to lay all my cards on the table just now. I can’t imagine what my mother, or Faye for that matter, would think if I suddenly announced that I’m pregnant, possibly with God’s baby, and that I’m afraid the Goldens are planning to lock me up until the child is born and then to dispose of me as quickly and neatly as possible. Without a trace, I am sure. I admit that it sounds slightly bizarre even to me right now. But there are times when I am absolute certain about such things.

  “How about if we make a deal?” suggests my mom.

  “What kind of deal?” Another wave of suspicion washes over me. What if the Goldens have been in contact with her too? What if they are working with everyone I know and almost trust. Like Simon and my mom now. Why, even Faye seems to think they’re wonderful.

  “If I let you stay with Faye, will you promise me that you’ll look into the Goldens’ hospital or clinic or whatever it is they call it?”

  My chest grows tighter, as if I’m losing control of everything all over again. But I take in a deep breath and tell myself just to chill. Play the game. Then I sense Amelia leaning over my shoulder, and I hear her whispering to me. “Say whatever it takes to get your mom off your back and out of here. You can sort it all out later.”

  “Can you do that for me, Alice?” My mom is looking directly into my eyes, like she used to do when she thought I was lying. “Dr. Spangler mentioned that you could use some additional treatment. I promised her I’d try to find you something. Maybe this is the answer, Alice. Will you at least check them out?”

  I lock eyes with her, thinking that I’d better follow Amelia’s advice this time. Just agree and get this over with as quickly as possible. “You mean just go up and look around?” I say.

  “Yes, just look around and talk to them.”

  I nod. “Sure, I can do that.”

  My mom smiles, and I can tell she thinks she is victorious. I smile too, playing along, as I stroke Cheshire’s fur. The warm, smoothing motion helps to calm my churning insides. I know without a doubt that I must come up with another plan now, and soon. Somewhere I can go and be safe—just until the baby is born. Hopefully Faye won’t push too hard on me to keep my promise to my mom.

  Finally my mom announces she should go. I pretend to be sad as I stand and give her a hug. Mostly I am tired and worried and scared. As soon as Mom is gone, I turn to Faye and excuse myself to my room.

  “I’m sure you must be exhausted, dear. You go and sleep as long as you like.”

  As long as I like? I wonder how long that would be. Forever perhaps? As I lie on the bed, I can barely remember that sweet sense of peace I experienced during what I’m now sure must’ve been my coma era. But I can faintly recall that warm white cocoon that seemed to envelop me—safe, secure, peaceful. I look up at the stained ceiling tiles and long for that kind of peace again.

  My peace I give you.

  chapter THIRTY-TWO

  I’m Late, I’m Late

  The next morning I overhear Faye speaking on the telephone. She probably thinks I’m still asleep in bed, but I am wide awake and standing in the hallway, l
istening.

  “She seems better,” she says. “Yes, she told her mother that she is willing to go up there and look around.”

  I tiptoe closer to the kitchen, straining my ears to hear each word.

  “That is very kind of you, Julie. You know I don’t drive. Yes, I think around noon would be just fine. Yes, I’ll tell her.”

  I slink back down the hallway to my room. I know what they are doing. They are arranging to have me transported to the Golden Home.

  “It’s time to go, kiddo,” says Amelia as she steps behind the door to my bedroom. “I’m warning you, they’re onto you. They want that baby.”

  Without answering her, I close the door and begin to dress in layer after layer of clothes. Three pairs of socks make Faye’s old rubber boots a bit tight, but I know I won’t be sorry once I hit the streets. The city is cold in January. I top all this with my army-green coat and a hat that Faye knitted for me herself. It’s made from all her leftover yarn and looks like a rainbow. Worried that he might try to follow me, I scoot Cheshire out of the bedroom and close the door. Then I open the window and climb out.

  I double over with pain as I hit the ground. My ribs ache as if they’ve cracked all over again. I realize I can’t reach up to close the window again, and I feel a little guilty, letting all that cold air into Faye’s warm little house.

  “Don’t worry about that,” says Amelia. “Don’t forget that Faye is betraying you right now. She’s in there plotting with Julie and Dr. Golden. Even your mom’s in on it.”

  I nod as I hold on to my middle, trying to contain the pain. Hunched over I make my way through the wet grass in Faye’s backyard.

  “Hurry,” she urges me on. “Get far away from this evil place, and never come back.”

  I cut through the alley that passes between the backyards of the houses and slowly make my way down toward the MAX stop. After a few blocks the pain seems to subside a little, and I can stand up straighter as I try to walk faster. I used to worry about using public transportation, afraid that I’d be spotted by a pursuer, but my body isn’t up to a long walk today. Besides, I think it may be all right this time since it’s possible no one knows I’ve escaped just yet.