What Alice Sees: Chapter 7

July 15th 1993

 

“Are you going to tuck me in tonight as well?” Alice opened the door to her bedroom, her skin a dusky rose colour from the hot bath. Her nightie hung down to the floor, and fluffy animal slippers poked their noses out as she shuffled into the room.

Daddy sat on the edge of her bed, his head down as he fiddled with a screwdriver. He glanced up and tried to smile, but his eyes fell away from her gaze and returned to the floor.

“I guess I am,” he said, holding the tip of the screwdriver in one hand, and tapping the handle into his palm. “But first, we have a job to do, you and I.”

“What’s that?” Alice asked, and hopped up onto the bed beside him. She reached over and grabbed Bubbles from under the covers, rubbing one of the teddy’s ears between her fingers as she waited for her father to reply.

“We’re going to dismantle David’s cot.”

“On his Death Day?” She held Bubbles a little closer. We should take it down today, she thought, a smile growing on her face. Today was right.

Daddy cleared his throat. “Yes, on his… Death Day.”

“And I can help?” Alice asked, kicking her legs against the side of the bed.

“You, my little drop of goodness, are going to be my helper.”

“Goody!” Alice climbed off the bed and skipped over to the cot. “Can I put David on my bookshelves?” She picked the photo off the pillow and held it up for Daddy.

He nodded. “He’ll like sitting between all the books.”

“I think so too. Maybe he’ll learn how to read Jack and the Beanstalk, like I am.”

“Maybe he will. Or will he be more of a Seuss lover?”

“Can we read him Green Eggs and Ham? When Mummy reads the words right, David giggles up in heaven.”

“He does, does he?”

“Yes. He laughs like you do.”

Daddy put his head down and started unscrewing the cot.

“And his hair does that funny thing yours does.”

“Alice, enough.”

“And when he smiles, he’s got dimples like-”

“That’s enough! I don’t mind a little joke, but you can’t hear David and you certainly can’t see him. He’s dead.” He flicked the handle counter clockwise too many turns, and a screw fell on the carpet. “He’s in the ground, over at the cemetery. And he feels nothing, because… he’s dead.” He jammed the screwdriver against the next screw. “Understand?”

Alice nodded, pulled Bubbles to her chest and perched on the edge of the bed.

“Sorry.”

Daddy worked on the cot.

“I didn’t mean to make you sad, Daddy.”

Daddy added another screw to the pile, and moved to the other end of the cot.

“Does that mean Mummy will tuck me in?”

Daddy put the screwdriver down and sighed.

“No, I’ll tuck you in.” He got up and kneeled at her side. “Losing David made me very sad, still makes me sad. His death hurts me as much now as it did the day he was taken from us.” He took one of her hands and placed it palm down against his heart. “Right there. As if someone’s pushing a knife in, but somehow, I never die.”

“Why don’t you and Mummy get another baby?”

“It’s not so easy, love,” Daddy said, and released her hand.

“I’d like a new baby brother.”

Daddy dipped his head in the cot’s direction.

“Want to help me finish?”

“Yup.”

***

“I heard you and Daddy took the cot down today.” Mummy gave Alice a big cuddle, and then tucked her blankets in around her.

“Daddy let me take the last screw out. Look at all the space I have now!” Alice sat up and pointed at the other side of the room. “You don’t think David will be angry, because we took his bed away?”

“Nope.” Mummy shook her head. “I think he’ll be glad we did it on his Death Day. Hard to believe he’s been gone two years now.” Mummy’s eyes took on a faraway cast as she gazed over where the cot was.

“Mummy,” Alice asked.

“Yes, my lovely.”

“Can we get another baby brother?” Alice sighed. “And I promise we won’t lose this one.”

Mummy smiled. “Oh sweetheart. If only life were so easy. Daddy’s not ready for another baby.” She stroked Alice’s hair, thinking. “I might be able to convince him of something else, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m going to keep it a surprise, in case we can’t. I’ll let you know in the morning.”

“No, Mummy. Tell me now!”

“In the morning.” Mummy put a finger to her lips. “I don’t want to hear any more from you, or I won’t ever tell you what it was.”

“Ever?”

“Forever.”

“Forever-ever?” Alice said.

“So long forever-ever, your great-grand children will wonder what on earth I was going to say.”

Alice giggled.

“Love you Mummy.”

“Love you sweetheart. Sleep tight, and don’t let-”

“-the bedbugs bite!” Alice finished.

Mummy backed out of the room, flicking the light off as she closed the door. Alice waited until she heard her mother go down the stairs, and climbed out of bed. She tiptoed over to the curtains and pulled them open. The moon was waning, but still nearly full, and its golden light filled the room. Alice danced in the light, turning in circles like she’d seen ballerinas, hands held high above her head. On the third spin, she fell to the ground, landing in a heap where David’s cot had been.

“I hope you’re not angry,” she said. “I’ve kept everything.” She rolled onto her knees and crawled to her bed. She pulled out a box from underneath. “Daddy and I put everything in here.” She held the container up, examining the exterior by moonlight. “We’re going to paint it with flowers and bees and butterflies. Daddy said so.” She pulled off the top. Inside were folded blankets and two stuffed bears. “I’m going to put your photo in here as well. I want it to be safe. The box is safe.” Alice put the box down and fetched the photo from the bookshelves; she placed his picture carefully between the bears. “They’ll take care of you.” She put the lid back on, and slid the box back under her bed.

“Why do you still mourn your brother?”

A voice spoke up behind Alice. She jumped, spun about too fast, and bumped against the edge of the bed.

“Ouch!” Alice rubbed the side of her head.

The man stood by the window, clothed again in black, rocking on the balls of his feet as he waited for her to answer.

“What’s mourn?” she asked.

“When you feel sad and think about the child who passed over,” the man said, his hands held behind his back. He concentrated on the garden beyond the window. “Although, I’m not entirely certain. I don’t feel.”

“I’m not sad. I like David.”

“Why do you keep his possessions?”

Alice raised her eyebrows. “His blankets?”

“Yes.”

“I like them. They smell of him.”

“I understand,” the man said, but he frowned and stared at the moon.

“Why do you come on his Death Day?”

The man tucked loose stands of hair behind his ear. Alice almost asked again, but the man finally said, “I don’t know.”

“What do you know?”

“I know about death.”

“Is that why you’re an angel?”

Light flooded the room, and Mummy popped her head in.

“Alice, did you fall out of bed?”

“No, my angel is here, I’m talking to him.”

Mummy followed her daughter’s eyes to a space near the window.

“There’s no one else here.” She walked across the room, stepping around the place where Alice was staring. “Why are the curtains open?”

“I opened them, so my angel could get in.” Alice pursed her lips for a second, and said, “Why can’t my Mummy see you?”

“Humans are not given the ability to perceive me.”

“What did your angel say?” Mummy pulled the curtains closed, her eyes fixed on the spot Alice spoke to.

“He said, humans are not given the ability to… perheive him.”

“Perceive?” Mummy frowned, and stared at the area by the window. “Then how come you can ‘perceive’ him?”

Alice raised her eyebrows. “Well?” she asked him.

“I don’t know why. You’re the only one,” he replied.

“You mean no one else in the whole entire world can see you, only me?”

The man thought for a few seconds. “Allow me to retract my previous statement.”

“Huh?”

“Humans on the brink of death are gifted a few moments of vision. But only for those brief seconds.”

“What’s he saying?” Mummy stood with her back against the wall, glancing from her daughter to the space she was taking to.

“I don’t understand. He says when humans are on the bink…

“Brink,” said the man.

“Brink of death, they are given?”

“Gifted,” he said.

“Gifted a few moments of vision. What does he mean, Mummy?”

“Ask him for a name.” Mummy had turned pale, and her legs wobbled beneath her.

Alice turned back to him.

“I think naming me would not prove helpful. Nor should I continue to visit. This shall be my last time here.”

“Angel, no, don’t go!” Alice towards him, but in an instant he was gone. Alice stood in the middle of the room, tears in her eyes.

“He says he’s not coming back.”

“Did he say his name?”

“No.” Alice took another step to the window then crumpled to her knees. “He’s lost, like David, and I’m never going to see him again!” Alice’s face glistened as tears coursed down her face.

“Perhaps that’s for the best, sweetheart.” Mummy sat on the floor next to Alice. “Come here, I think you need a big mummy hug.”

Alice leaned into her mother’s arms, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears. She opened them again, and rubbed at her face. The light from the hall flickered and dimmed, and Alice twisted her head just enough to see her father in the doorway. She put her hands out to Daddy, her eyes filling with tears again. She’d lost David. She’d counted the breaths, noticed how they slowed, and she’d not done anything until her angel had come and taken his breath away. Now the angel was gone, and she was the one to blame again.

“Daddy!” she cried. But he turned away and left. Alice opened her mouth and howled. “He doesn’t want me! Daddy doesn’t want me!”

***

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed.”

Alice sniffed against her mother’s shirt, holding on as she was picked up and carried over to her bed. Mummy tucked her in, placing Bubbles in her daughter’s arms.

“Are you all done crying now?” Mummy produced a tissue from her sleeve, and wiped Alice’s nose.

Alice nodded, clutching her teddy to her. Mummy gave both of them a kiss, and strode from the room.

“Shaun?” Mummy called out once she was on the landing.

“In here,” came the reply from the other bedroom.

“What the hell do you think you were doing?”

Alice got out of bed and crept to the door. She leaned up against the wall, and peeked down the hall.

“She was extremely upset! How could you turn away from her? Are you deranged?”

“You did say I was mentally ill,” Daddy said.

“Depressed, not sadistic!” Mummy sat hard on the end of her bed. Alice could see her mother’s feet and legs, the rest of her hidden. Daddy paced back and forth, in and out of view as he passed by their open door.

“Did you listen to what she said? She’s seeing things, and you’re worried about me not giving her a little cuddle.”

“She was using the man as a replacement for David. With him going away, she lost her last contact with her brother. Can’t you understand that?”

Daddy laughed, but Alice didn’t think he was smiling.

“No, I think when people see things that aren’t there, hell, talk to them, that they need to visit a shrink.”

“Children do not differentiate between reality and imagination until they are coming up on their teens.”

“You’re a nurse, not a psychologist. Don’t go above your station.”

“How dare you!” Mummy shouted. “You should try reading a book someday. Maybe you’ll learn something, like the fact that you were cruel to your daughter at a time when she really needed you. Did you time how long it took to calm her down?”

There was a moment of silence.

“Well I did. Forty seven minutes.” I noted the time when you turned away from your needy daughter, and again before I came in here. Do you think she and I enjoyed nearly fifty minutes of upset?”

“What do you think I’m going to say – yes? Of course I didn’t enjoy it. I’ve been in here the whole time, listening to her scream and wail –”

“You mean cry like her heart was breaking in two.”

“Whatever.”

“Don’t you love her?”

“Of course I love her!”

“You don’t show it, Shaun.”

“I helped get the cot out of her room.”

“That’s the longest time you’ve spent with her in the last two years. And I would hardly call unscrewing her dead brother’s cot ‘quality time’. Would you?”

Alice adjusted her legs, and peered further around her door.

“Did you make an appointment with the doctor today?”

“No.” Daddy paced to the doorway.

“Why not? Do you think spending one night with her –”

“Two.”

Mummy replied in a deep growling voice. “Don’t interrupt me again. Today, before your second night of ‘quality time’ with your daughter, you had spent one night in the last two years with her - last night. Two nights do not make you healthy and cured from whatever ailment has made you grumpy, paranoid, and insistent on avoiding your daughter for two years.”

“I wasn’t doing that!” Daddy set off again, pacing out of sight. He reappeared a few seconds later, did an about turn, and strode off once more.

“I’m not going to keep repeating old arguments. Sort yourself out, Shaun.”

“Or what? Are you giving me an ultimatum?”

“No.” Mummy sounded sad. Alice wanted to cuddle her mother, make her smile, not shout.

“You want me to leave, is that what you’re saying?”

“I never said I wanted you to go.”

“It’s what you meant. Those types of benign words always mean ‘leave’ when you read between the lines. That’s why people say them, because they’re chicken to say what they actually want to say.”

“I don’t want you to leave. I want you to get better.”

“Or I have to leave. Fine, I understand.”

Mummy’s feet moved then she got off the bed, and stood by the door.

“Think what you want. You know what I said. And if you want to twist it into whatever strange truth you particularly desire at this moment, go ahead. Knock yourself out. But I’m done with this for tonight.”

Alice leaned back into the shadows as Mummy left the bedroom and went downstairs. Daddy stayed in the room, pacing. Alice watched him for a while. Her mother put the telly on, and Alice could hear something exploding, followed by a chorus of shrieks and screams.