An work in progress short story:
ALICE
The room is quiet. The foggy windows accept the light splatter of snowflakes
breeding outside. The warmth from the fireplace wonders through the house, yet it goes unnoticed by Alice. She remains fixated upon the scene outside the enticing warmth and comfort of that is plaguing the house. It's Christmas, but she doesn't care. Alice has taken refuge in her father’s study. Old books fill the shelves, his antique wooden desk, polished to a shine, remains unoccupied. This room is filled with memories of escaping with her mother and father to new adventures courtesy of the stories in these books. If only she was in this room to do just that. Perhaps she is- escaping, but from what?
Her straggly long brown hair clings to her face. Her once magnetic eyes, now black with empty, look like pieces of coal misplaced. What does she look for out there? Is she trying to catch her breath and enjoying the fact that it's Christmastime again? The time of the year when the block of quaint houses are decorated elaborately, each one different from the next. This is the place she grew up in and used to remember fondly. But not this time. It doesn't feel right. She knows it but can't quite place it.
A car wonders down the street- Alice perks up with intrigue, but realizes it's not what she is anticipating. Suddenly, she scoops up a chair close to the window and watches more
intensely. Sharon walks past the study holding a serving platter full of cookies, some decorated as snowmen, the others decorated as Santa Clauses. Party guests laugh from the end of the hallway, cushioned by Christmas music in the background. Sharon stands, caught in the middle. She looks at her daughter, delicately, she projects.
"Will you not join us Alice? We're playing some of your favorite
games."
Alice says nothing. It’s a clear question if she heard her mother at all. A few
seconds pass by and Sharon walks down the hallway, defeated.
The next morning, Sharon enters the house with grocery bags and peers into the study.
Alice is sat on the window pane, knees up and looking out at the quiet neighbourhood.
“Alice, can you give me a hand please?” No reply.
“I bought your favourite- I thought we could have mac and cheese today as a treat.”
Alice wipes the steam from the glass, oblivious to her mother. Sharon scoops the bags
up and continues on to the kitchen.
Alice’s father, Pete, is an older man, but he is one of those older men who never lost his child-like sense of fun. It may not be as present as it once was, but in the last couple of months, it has been on the back burner. Right now, it’s early morning and shards of sun dance throughout the kitchen. He wants to desperately pull down the blinds and shut it out, but he doesn’t. He stands in the family kitchen, looking around at the holiday decorations as he stirs a cup of coffee. A handmade plate sits on the counter filled with sugar cookies, mostly for another batch of guest arriving tonight. He looks closely at it, a little smile breaks his face. He scoops it up, along with the coffee cup and walks into the hallway.
Pete finds Alice in the study, back in the chair, elbows leaning uncomfortably against the window sill. He walks in and sits the cookie plate and coffee on the nearby table. He stands, waiting for something- movement, a glance, a thank you- anything. Pete tries to reach out to her, inches away to grab her and hug her, tell her everything will be ok, but he’s not close enough. He turns and leaves the room.
Alice ignores the house guests and keeps to herself in the study. She is dressed in the same sweater from a few days ago, with a change of sweatpants. Staring hopefully out the window, she witnesses another pretty seasonal night scene; the snow has started again, lighting up the dark sky and adding a fresh layer of white to everything. Her eyes follow almost every snowflake as it hits the ground softly- her nose pinned against the cold glass in wonder.
Little does she know she has an audience. Millie, her five year old cousin, has joined her away from the adults.
“Are you crazy?” Millie innocently asks. Alice doesn’t reply.
Millie climbs her way through to Alice. She sits on her lap, wrapping her legs around
hers, coming face to face.
“Will you read me a story?” Millie’s eyes dance with encouragement that isn’t met.
“Don’t be sad. Mom says you’ll get better.”
Millie waits for Alice to open her mouth and speak, but she doesn’t.
“I don’t think so though.”
Millie climbs down and stops at the cookie dish, still on the table, untouched. Mille scoops up a couple of cookies and tiptoes out of the study.
For a split second, Alice looks away from the window, contemplates moving, then looks
back out the window.
Pete works the shovel against the pathway to the house. The fresh snow laid form the
night before is easily moved much to his surprise. Alice stares blankly at him. He waves but Alice pays no attention.
Sharon walks out of her bathroom, adjusting an earring. Pete walks into their bedroom
and slowly sits on their freshly made bed.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said, and you’re right. Perhaps we should
invite Gary to our next games night. I know he’s usually a stick in the mud, but he’s
made more of an effort just to say hello these past few weeks.”
Pete does not reply. Their eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror.
“How can we keep going?”
He hangs his head with shame. Sharon’s heart breaks for her husband. He’s a strong
man, but not right now, behind this closed door.
“It’ll get better. It has too.”
“I’m not one for gossip, but all I know is their girl hasn’t left the house in three months. You want to know why? Because she’s insane, that’s why.”
Janeane brags as she wraps a bouquet of flowers in pretty red festive wrap. Decked out in full festive attire, Janeane is a matter-of-fact-woman that is all eyes and all ears.
“You know that’s not fair, Janeane. Do you even know what happened? You
know, the truth, not just some rumour?”, Lizzy asks, not buying into the chat at all.
She’s pulling out money from her wallet as Janeane fixes a red ribbon around her
bouquet.
“What flew up your nose? I’ve been in this town for years and I’m telling you,
Sharon and Pete haven’t got a clue what they’re doing. Their daughter has checked out. They need to check her back in.”
Janeane attaches a pretty bow. Sharon presents herself from behind a rack, holding a
Pointsetta.
“You clearly haven’t been around for as long as I have to know Pete are I
doing the best we can. We love Alice. What would you know about raising a child? You
don’t know what it takes to be a good parent.”
Sharon throws the plant on the rack and storms out. Lizzy is shocked, looking Janeane
up and down.
“You deserved that.”
Pete pulls a load of dry clothes from the dryer and starts to slowly fold them. He’s
caught in a fond memory of himself and Alice when she was 5. Carefully, he teaches her how to precisely fold a t-shirt, while she sits eagerly on top of the built in counter top. Pete begins with laying the shirt flat on the dryer, face down, folding the sleeves to an angle, neatly folding half an inch on either side, then flipping the bottom of the t-shirt in half. He turns the shirt over as Alice inspects the final product.
“The collar’s bent,” Alice chirps.
Pete takes a step back and allows Alice to fix Sharon’s tennis shirt.
“You’re a natural,” Pete beams. “Is there more?”
Alice face is lit up like a sky filled with fireworks.
Pete picks up the laundry basket, sitting it atop the dryer.
“Looks like we’re on sock duty.” “My favourite.”
Alice dives in and carefully picks out socks, finding their match.
Pete lingers on the past, warmth from the current present.
“Are you down here Pete?”
Sharon calls down to her husband.
“Up in a minute.”
Alice sits cross legged on the floor of the study. She looks down and her skinny tiny
hands. Her fingernails bitten down to a stub. Her pale skin needs sunlight. Slowly, she stands up and looks out the window. This time she doesn’t walk towards the window, she just stands. Sharon and Pete walk past with lunch.
“Alice?” Sharon projects.
For the first time in weeks, Alice recognizes her voice.
“He’s not coming, is he?”
Sharon and Pete exchange looks. Is she coming around?
“No, honey, I’m sorry, but he’s not.”
Alice looks down at the floor beneath her.
“I’ll wait a little longer.” she nestles herself into the arm chair.
