Finding Alice (31 page)

“At the time I blamed myself. I told myself that if I’d only gone to see her, she wouldn’t have done it. That’s when I started reading books about mental illnesses, trying to figure this whole thing out. Then I learned about heredity and got freaked that I was going to end up just like her.”

“But you’re not,” I tell him, sadly thinking that I am.

His brows lift slightly. “Not yet anyway.”

I frown. “Do you really think that …”

“There’s no guarantee.” Now he looks at me closely. “But I’ll tell you what, Alice, if I started getting symptoms, I wouldn’t freak.”

I shake my head. Easy for him to say.

“Honestly. I’ve watched Dr. Golden work with people. He uses good therapy and counseling and a minimum of medication, and people are living normal lives.”

“Normal?”

He rolls his eyes. “As I’ve said, normal
is
highly overrated.”

“Yeah.” But I’m still not convinced.

“Alice, did you know that most people with schizophrenia have an above-average IQ? Many are borderline geniuses, artists, writers, musicians, scientists. I can give you a whole list of famous people as diversely gifted as Vincent van Gogh, John Nash, Virginia Woolf, and Friedrich Nietzsche, who all probably suffered from some form of schizophrenia.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I am tired now. Exhausted from my morning travels, I ease myself into the chair next to his bed and lean forward, shoulders slumped as I stare hopelessly at the floor. It feels hot and stuffy in here, but then I realize I am dressed quite warmly.

“Because I want you to get the help you deserve, Alice. And you are being handed an amazing opportunity with Dr. Golden.”

I look at him from the corner of my eye. “Did someone already call you and tell you I ran away?”

He just laughs. “No, Alice. But it doesn’t take a genius to guess where you’re headed.”

“Where?”

“I’m guessing the streets. If you let the voices bully you, you’ll most likely be hiding around the corners, sleeping in Dumpsters or under the bridges, jumping at every noise.”

I stand up again and study him closely. How does he know about this?

“It’s just the way it goes when people give in to their symptoms and refuse to get good help. You become everyone’s victim, and you run and run and run, but you never get away.”

“What then, Simon? Are you telling me to go to the Goldens? To allow them to lock me—”

He reaches out with his good hand and grabs my arm as if to get my attention. It works. “
They do not lock anyone up, Alice
. Why would I lie to you?” He releases my arm and leans back again.

“I don’t know.” I reach down and touch my stomach, wondering if God’s baby is really in there after all. Or is this just another delusion? It all seemed so real and believable this morning. How can that be?

“I really care about you, Alice. I have no reason to lie to you. I just want to see you get help and get better. I want to see you finish college and enjoy a functional life where you’re not running from the shadows all the time.”

“I want that too.”

“Well, it’s up to you then.”

“Are you telling me to go up there, Simon?”

“I can only tell you that I think it would be the best thing for you. But you’re the one who must make the final decision. No one is going to force you into this. And if Dr. Golden isn’t convinced you’re there of your own free will, he won’t even let you in.”

I sit back down again.
My own free will
. It seems like nothing in my life is about my own free will anymore. It’s not my will for Amelia to scream at me or to be confused all the time. And it’s not my will to be homeless and hungry.

“What if I don’t have a free will anymore?” I ask.

“You do, Alice. It’s in there. I’ve seen it. But all that other stuff is confusing you. Think about what you really want in your life, then ask yourself how you’re going to get there.”

I think about things like peace and safety and rest. I think about
being warm and loved and fulfilled. For the moment I know I won’t find these things on the streets, running from shadows as Simon put it. I suspect he is probably right.

“Julie was going to pick me up at Faye’s at noon,” I tell him. “I don’t know if I can get back there in time.” I stand up and move toward the door. “I’ve got to go, Simon. I don’t want to miss her.”

He grins and waves, and I take off. I am tempted to use the emergency exit but don’t want to look too crazy. Instead I go the longer way, walking as fast as I am able down the hall, ignoring the glances tossed my way. Once outside, I move quickly toward the train stop, ignoring the jolt of pain with each jarring step. I wish I had taken a pain pill this morning. Somehow I reach the stop at the same time as the tram. I climb inside, sitting close to the door, clutching my midsection with my hands, preparing myself to jump out and catch the downtown connection that will take me back across the river again.

Time is usually inconsequential to me, but now I am worried about each minute as the tram rumbles across the bridge. I fret that I am too late, that Julie has already come and gone without me, that I’ve missed my chance. I want to ask the woman with the little boy if she knows what time it is but am afraid she already thinks I’m dangerous. I noticed how she looked at me and then quickly turned away as if she thought I might harm her or her child. I turn and stare out the window. Why is this train moving so slowly?

There, directly across from me, is the big bridge, the one that used to call my name. I stare at it, wishing I could overpower its evil draw, somehow prove to it that I am stronger. But I fear I am not. I
fear that left to its own devices, the bridge would easily win over me. I turn and look away. If only I’m not too late.

I begin to pray, whether it’s aloud or in my heart I’m not quite sure. I don’t think I even care anymore.
Dear God, please help me to get there on time. Please don’t let me arrive too late. Amen
.

chapter
THIRTY-THREE

The Garden of Live Flowers

A
melia is verbally assaulting me as I step off the tram at the last stop. Trying to ignore her, I pause to glance at the clock in the waiting area. It is nearly noon. I know it will take at least twenty minutes to make it back to Faye’s, and that’s only if I walk fast. I’m not even sure that I can.

“Go ahead, you stupid little fool,” she yells as she stamps along beside me. “It’s not going to do any good. You’ll never make it on time, and even if you do, it won’t matter. They don’t want to help you—”

“Leave me alone! Leave me alone!” I yell to block out her harping as I hurry along. I am breathless when I finally reach Faye’s street. My ribs burn like twigs in a fire, and my heart is about to burst through my throbbing chest. I ache all over and would trade my rubber boots for a pain pill right now. But I keep on trudging. I cut through the alley again and finally find her backyard and make my way across the still wet grass. I slip in the back door and prepare myself for Faye’s questions. Where was I? What was I doing? Not that she’s ever been that intrusive before. But I am ready.

“Hello, dear,” she calls from the kitchen as I remove my coat in the laundry room. “I just told Julie that you should be here any minute.”

I step into the kitchen and see Julie sitting at the little table, drinking a cup of tea and petting Oliver.

“Hi, Alice.” She smiles. “I was hoping I hadn’t missed you.”

“I just, uh, went for a walk,” I tell her as I unbutton the first layer beneath my coat, one of Faye’s old cardigans, a hot pink color that always makes my face look paler than normal.

“Would you like some tea?” asks Faye.

“Sure.” I sit down and attempt to catch my breath.

“Faye thought that you might like to come out and see our place,” says Julie as she helps herself to a slice of banana bread left over from yesterday.

I nod. “Yes, I’d like to do that.” I peer at her. “Just to look around, right?”

“Just to look around,” mocks Amelia. “Right!”

“Definitely, it’s just to see the place. We don’t even have a space available until the end of the week. But you can certainly check it all out.”

Faye sets a cup of tea before me, then cuts a generous slice of banana bread and even spreads it with butter before she sets it on a napkin in front of me. “You need to eat something so you can take one of your pain pills, dear.”

“Oh sure,” says Amelia as she leans against the refrigerator with narrowed eyes. “Go ahead and take a pill, Alice. See where that gets you, you stupid moron!”

I avert my eyes and hungrily devour the bread before I
willingly
take a pill. Amelia could be right, but somehow I just don’t believe her. Or maybe I don’t care. My body aches so badly that all I can think about is getting a little relief.

“Don’t eat too much,” warns Julie with a smile. “I thought you and I could have some lunch along the way and just chat a little.”

“A little lunch?” Amelia shakes her head. “Don’t fall for it, Alice. That’s how she’ll start the poison in your system.”

I study Julie for a moment, thinking Amelia could be right; this could be a trick. Then I force myself to replay Simon’s words. I make myself remember what it is I really want. And what I don’t. I think Julie and Faye are talking again, but I’m not catching their words.

Faye places her hand on my arm, as if to get my attention. “Do you want to change your clothes, Alice? You seem awfully bundled up.”

I nod and return to my room. The window has been closed, and I suspect that Faye knows exactly what I’ve been up to. Despite Amelia’s threats and warnings, I remove most of my layers. Not all, since you never can tell. I brush my hair and then go back out and say that I am ready. Part of me agrees with Amelia. I might be handing myself over to the executioner. The rest of me is too tired to resist or even care. And so I go.

Julie has a nice silver car. I’m not sure what kind, maybe a Beemer, but it’s pretty and smells like leather and expensive perfume. I remember what Simon said about her inheritance. I think how lovely it would be to have someone give you a bunch of money and wonder what I would do if that happened to me.

She takes me to a downtown restaurant where they greet you at
the door and offer to take your coats. I hang on to mine and get very flustered. Then I am even more confused when I try to read the menu. It’s as if everything is in a different language.

Julie sets down her menu and looks at me. “I’m getting the Asian salad, Alice. It’s very good.”

I nod. “I’ll have that too.”

Then the waiter comes, and she orders for both of us. At first I am relieved, but then I get worried. I haven’t seen Amelia since we left Faye’s house, but what if she is right? What if Julie planned this whole thing? What if the waiter has been instructed to slip something into my food?

“I think I know how you feel,” she says as the waiter leaves.

“What do you mean?” I look at her curiously.

“Are you worried about the food?” She glances over her shoulder. “That someone is going to put something into it?”

I shrug.

“Would you be surprised if I told you that I used to feel the exact same way?” She laughs. “Sometimes I still do. But then I tell myself to shape up.”

“Huh?” I’m really confused now. Is this a trick? I look over my shoulder thinking Amelia must be nearby.

“The reason I brought you here first was so I could tell you a little about myself, Alice. Because you remind me of myself about twenty years ago.”

I study her carefully and wonder how I could possibly remind her of her gorgeous self. She is tall and beautiful, dressed stylishly, confident, and completely in control of her life. We are as different as night and day. I felt the stares we got as we walked into this upscale restaurant.
I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid. The host probably assumed that Julie had picked me up off the street. Like she was doing her good deed for the day by giving a poor homeless girl a free meal.

“I know you feel very skeptical right now, Alice. You may even suspect that I want to hurt you. I have felt those same exact feelings. You see, I’ve lived with schizophrenia for more than twenty years now. It’s only in the last twelve years that I’ve experienced anything close to a normal life—if you want to call it that. But that is thanks to Jack.”

“Dr. Golden?”

She nods. “He was working as a psychiatrist in the hospital that I’d been stuck in. But he saw something in me that no one else did. He spent time with me and drew me out of myself.” She pauses to take a sip of water, then sets down her glass. “And I was pretty far gone too. I wasn’t functioning nearly as well as you are.”

“You think I’m functioning well?” This makes me want to laugh … or cry.

“Comparatively speaking. So was I to start out with. But things got progressively worse, and it wasn’t long before I was entrenched in my way of thinking, afraid of everyone and everything. I became unable to function.”

I’m trying to process her words, but some of them seem to bounce off my brain like a superball. And she speaks so effortlessly that I begin to worry it’s all just a rehearsed speech, to convince me to trust her. I don’t think I believe her. Yet I nod my head and pretend that I do.

“That’s why my parents put me in the hospital,” she continues. “Naturally, they thought it was only going to be for a short time. The doctor assured them that I might improve with rest and medication. Only I never did. Not until Jack came along.” She smiles now. “He’s
not perfect, Alice, but he helped rescue me. And he’s helped hundreds of others since then. He can help you.”

When our salads come, Julie bows her head to say a prayer. I follow her lead, but my heart is beginning to pound with fear. I am certain that my salad is poisoned, but some of the words in her prayer remind me of Faye, and I am able to breathe again. Like a parrot, I echo her
amen
and then stare at my salad. I am unable to pick up my fork.

“Do you want to switch?”

“Huh?” I look up.

“Salads.” She smiles. “We could switch if it makes you feel better.”