Emancipating Alice (14 page)

Heather looked around and Alice could see embarrassment on her face although she wasn’t sure if it was because she had berated her in front of the workers left or because she actually felt guilt over what Alice was saying. Alice doubted it was the latter.

Heather looked away briefly.

“Alice, I’m sorry you feel this way—I’ve always felt that we were friends…”

“No friend of George’s is a friend of mine.”

Alice could not keep the steel out of her voice.

Heather shook her head, confused.

“Alice, I don’t understand what you mean—I knew George, but you and I, we had always been friends. What are you talking about?”

Alice simply repeated the last thing she said.

“No friend of George’s is a friend of mine.”

Heather shook her head, looking utterly baffled.

“Alice, that’s just ridiculous. How old are we? I don’t know what I did to you, but as far as I recall, nothing that could possibly make you so mad at me even after all this time!”

Alice just stared at her.

Heather let out an exasperated breath.

“Look, it’s fine if you don’t ever want to talk to or see me again. And you know what? You’re right. Perhaps I didn’t do enough to maintain our friendship. But what about you? How long are you going to push people away from you? How long do you plan to keep playing the victim? Start taking action yourself? Don’t you see how unreasonable you’re being?”

Heather let out another breath as Alice remained silent.

“I’m really sorry it had to be this way, Alice. Perhaps I was a little selfish in coming here, feeling a connection with you once again since my own husband died just a year ago. Yes, I’ve been a bit lonely and I thought maybe we could be friends again. No matter what you think, you did always cross my mind and I thought we could bridge the past but clearly I was wrong. You haven’t changed, Alice. And I don’t mean that as a compliment.”

Alice just looked at her.

Heather shook her head.

“Withdrawing isn’t always the best course of action, Alice. I hope you learn that someday.”

A tear fell from her eye as she turned to leave.

Alice watched her go.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Summer 1975

Bloomington, Illinois

Alice had trouble making female friends even after college. She found that if they weren’t outright incompatible and she liked them enough to want to be friends with them, she was unable to escalate their relationship beyond a casual acquaintance. It wasn’t that George had forbidden her female friends as well, it was that she didn’t want to be friends with them anymore once they had become acquainted with him; he seemed to charm everyone over to his side. Besides, most women she ran into who were also married seemed content with their circumstances, and that was enough of a difference to discourage her.

Nonetheless, she kept trying.

Miriam was great company, but Miriam was George’s sister, so she tried to make friends with the neighbors, the wives of the neighborhood. They at least would start out with a few things in common. Surely they could talk about things married women talked about. Surely there was one among them who felt the way Alice did.

It was her gardens that got most of the attention for Alice. Although most women in the neighborhood tended gardens themselves, they seemed to be fascinated by Alice’s, her dedication to it, some of the plants she grew.

The conversations were easy at first, casual. About fertilizers, recipes. Then she found herself smiling more, seeing in them what she was—a middle-class wife trying to make the most of her days, her time. She became part of a group that didn’t regularly meet on a certain day every week: they ran into each other in markets, out in the yard, carrying out the wifely and motherly duties that bonded them all. Talked about the little things that made their days.

Then one day, after weeks of building a relationship with them, Alice got an invitation from Helen from a few doors down who had invited some of the wives from their street to lunch.

Alice was delighted, and having left the children to Miriam, headed over to bond further with the women, looking forward to winning people over to her side at last.

Helen greeted her with a beautiful wide smile, her lovely printed dress covered by an apron, her shoulder-length honey-blond hair tucked behind her ears, her brown eyes sparkling.

“Welcome!” she said as she ushered Alice into the receiving room.

Alice saw three other women present, sitting around a table laid out with treats and finger food.

Alice said her greetings, sat down, and prepared to join the conversation.

They chatted and nibbled at the food for a while, talking about their children, husbands, gardens, women’s clubs, when finally Helen mentioned her plans to redecorate her home. The other ladies jumped in, talking about things they planned to change, move around, add.

Alice couldn’t believe how happy they sounded about these small tasks. About everything.

Alice made the mistake of chuckling softly to herself when Joanna mentioned a wonderful painting she had seen and wanted for her living room.

Joanna turned to her, her black, wavy hair swinging.

The other women noticed there was a shift and quieted, turning to look at Alice as well.

Alice could no longer hold back.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” she said. She had smiled as she said the words, but only to deflect attention away from how much she meant them. She had been faintly listening to the insignificant chit-chat while watching Helen shuffle around, getting tea, snacks, water—whatever her guests wanted; the perfect hostess.

“What do you mean, Alice?” Joanna asked, her green eyes searching Alice’s.

Alice wasn’t sure if it was the pressure of her unexpressed feelings, or the way the other women’s eyes lit up—as if anxiously waiting for her to continue as she said the words she was glad she couldn’t take back—that made her blurt out the rest.

“I’m just not happy with this wife thing, this mother thing. It’s not…it’s just not fulfilling for me. I know it’s supposed to be but it’s not. I mean, I don’t exactly know what it is I do want—you know, what will make me happy—but I do know that this…” she looked pointedly around Helen’s immaculately clean receiving room, “isn’t it.”

Alice kicked her pitch up a notch, and faking a lighter, more soothing tone said:
“Here you go, dear. How was your day, sweetie? What would you like for dinner, hon? Shall I rub your feet now or later?”
Alice went back to her normal tone. “It sickens me really. I think I’ve made a mistake.”

Alice realized she had really erred when she saw the looks on the other women’s faces change. It was as if they looked at each other without really doing so. The light she had initially seen and mistaken for openness and caring had faded to something else—something just as alive, but more muted and unreadable. The light went from the front to the back of their eyes and had a gloating quality about it. A satisfied edge.

“But Alice,” Megan began, putting down her teacup, “surely this is just part of the transition. I mean, you guys have only been married for…what is it again?”

“Three years.”

“Three years. You’re still adjusting I bet. That’s all. Especially with those two babies you’ve got at home…no wonder you’re stressed!” The other women joined in the light, phony laughter. “I had mine three years apart so I had a little more time to adjust.”

The other women nodded, agreeing that they too, had done something differently and were therefore not as harassed as Alice but at the same time, they understood her position.

“Yes, the first few years are usually the most difficult,” Susan agreed. “I had my own doubts at times but I always came back to the realization that with Dan is where I’m supposed to be. That we are to brave this life together him and I; I’m supposed to take care of him.”

“But don’t you ever get bored?” Alice couldn’t help asking.

“Heavens, there’s so much to do! Alice, really, what more could you want? There’s the house to keep, the children to groom and raise, the husband to look after—he’s the one working his butt off for the household, he deserves all the love and support you can give him. I mean, how could you not be busy with all the ironing, sewing, cooking…”

“But that’s not what I mean. Look, I’m just saying my brain gets bored. Don’t you ever feel like…”

“Alice, I don’t know anyone who’s one hundred percent excited every second of their lives. I mean, what do you want to do—walk on the moon?”

More hollow group laughter.

Alice would have felt the sting of ridicule had what Megan said not been so ridiculous itself.

“Of course there are ups and downs, you feel like doing new things…”

“Exactly! I always feel like doing new things, things that involve learning, discoveries, skills…”

“But you have to appreciate the everyday new things Alice. A new tooth growing in your child’s mouth or a new word said, a new recipe to try…”

“You guys aren’t getting it. What I mean is—okay, for example, I had gotten a scholarship to…”

“Oh. Well, what good is a scholarship when you husband’s going to be the one putting education to use?”

“But I have a brain too! I need to feed it; I can’t just let it go to waste. It’s just so difficult sometimes—I have needs too.”

“Of course you do. But it’s your job to make sure your husband’s needs are met. That’s your real job—taking care of your family. Women are always responsible for the next generation—we have the greatest responsibility of all. You really think we can take on more?”

But I’m not made of the same stuff as you! I don’t think I can live this way!
her thoughts screamed. But Alice knew it was useless to try to further explain how she felt. These women were all resigned to their roles and perhaps, saw no way out.

She sighed.

“I hope it gets easier. I’m really not sure I can do this, but I’ll try,” her mouth said, as she hoped to erase the dissension she had created.

They seemed to smile at her words without their mouths moving.

You will learn,
their eyes said.

***

Alice wondered why it was that her unhappiness was not enough of a reason to want out of her marriage. What did George have to do for her to be excused in wanting to leave him? Did he have to cheat on her? He cheated her out of her zest for life—was that not enough? Even then she knew other wives would insist she stay, or at least, silently applaud her for sticking it out if he did cheat on her—even if he had an affair with a different woman every now and then. Like Helen’s husband. And Helen stayed; she was a loyal wife. She was doing what she was supposed to be doing even if her husband wasn’t, and that was admirable. A proper lady and wife must follow the rules.

So did George have to beat her in order for her wanting to leave him to be excusable? He pummeled her spirit—why was that not enough? Even then she knew they’d approve if she stayed, especially if him hitting her was seldom and the injuries were minor—a slap here, a push there. Joanna’s husband did it, and she stayed. She knew that sometimes she made him do it by being slow to understanding his needs at times, and sometimes he was just drunk and he was an angry drunk—easily irritable.

Alice wondered if they wanted her to wait until he killed her. She had already been dying a little every day; he was killing her slowly, choking her to death. Why couldn’t she want to leave because he was sucking her lifeblood dry? Why did her happiness not matter?

Alice remembered a classmate of hers from high school. Leslie seemed a charmed girl—pretty and slim with shampoo-commercial-like blond hair and big blue eyes. People thought she was even prettier than Farrah Fawcett. She also scored well academically, an honors student. On top of that, she was a good person—friendly, sweet. People wanted to dislike her—they wanted her to be a bitch or a snob so they could think she was full of herself and they could in turn, turn up their nose at her, gossip about her, rip her to pieces, but she did not give them the chance.

She dated a popular, handsome guy at school, a guy with honey-colored wavy hair, kind brown eyes and a dimpled smile. It was a storybook romance. They ended up marrying and having two children, a boy and a girl. A perfect family. They were as happy as could be according to everyone’s perception, seeming to live a charmed life together. But when one of their children died of pneumonia, Alice remembered the way some of her old fellow classmates relayed news of the tragedy. She was amazed that it seemed some of them could barely contain their satisfaction. While their mouths expressed their condolences and how terrible it was to lose a child, how sorry they felt for her, their eyes and tones seemed to say something else. Alice thought she saw and heard in them something along the lines of:
Welcome to real life sister. It’s about time you’ve joined us in misery/unhappiness/ill-fortune at last.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Saturday, July 1st 2006

Alice surveyed the family room. By the time she had gotten home, a few people had already left, or not shown up at all. But the immediate family, George’s college friends, and some other folks were still there.

Everyone was mingling and mixing, save for David who sat on the couch eating a sandwich. One of his little girls sat there talking to him for a few moments, but then she bounded off.

Alice watched Elaine and Miriam as they chatted with each other, her eyes staying on Elaine for a few seconds.

Elaine was smiling—a rare sight to Alice, her eyes bright and wide with interest as she talked with Miriam.

Alice had forgotten the two were pretty close.

Miriam had kept in touch with Elaine over the years, checking on her even after Alice was able to take on the mothering role alone. Miriam would call Elaine on the telephone and vice versa.

Alice often wondered what they talked about.

Seeing her daughter occupied and David currently by himself she seized the opportunity to find out more about Elaine.

Alice went over and sat next to David, convinced they would have a few minutes to themselves. David looked over at her in surprise, but it seemed to be pleasant surprise.

“Well, hello, Mrs. Owens...”

“Oh, please. Call me Alice. How many times do I have to say that?”

Alice smiled at him, trying to let him know it was truly all right to do so. She hoped he would listen.

“I’m not sure I’d feel right about doing that seeing as how you’re my mom’s age and all. I’m sorry ma’am. Hope you’re not offended. I don’t mean nothin’ by it.”

Alice thought his manners and the way he looked as he said his apology were adorable, even if she found his Texan drawl a bit annoying. She could forgive him this one offense for being so cute.

“Goodness, whatever suits you David. So tell me, what did you think of the service?”

David paused a moment.

“Well, I think y’all did a pretty good job of putting it all together.”

“And the food?” She indicated a nearby tray.

“Real good. Nice of y’all to arrange this here get-together, give everybody a chance to talk to each other, remember Mr. Owens and…”

“David, tell me about my daughter,” Alice interrupted, impatient to get to the real reason she wanted to talk to him.

David looked at her with a puzzled expression.

“What do you mean, ma’am? Don’t you know your daughter?”

“Not as you do,” Alice said.

“Well...I’m not sure you can ever know her as I do ma’am, just as I could never know her the way you do; people tend to be a little different to different people. But tell me what you want to know, I’ll see what I can do.”

His expression still reflected slight confusion.

Surely he knew about the relationship between her and Elaine, and therefore, he must know they did not have one.

Was he assuming mothers knew their daughters regardless of whether they were best friends or strangers? Or had he only heard part of the story?

“Tell me everything you can. Her likes, dislikes. What does she like to do for fun for example? And how is she at work? How much does she like her job? I want to know my daughter as a mother, a wife, a person. I want to know if she’s happy.”

He looked away, a pensive look creeping onto his face for a moment.

“Well, she likes to go running…actually, I’m not sure she likes it, but she certainly does it every day. And she loves our daughters, no question ‘bout that.”

“Did she want boys?”

“She didn’t seem to be particular but she was pretty thrilled when each girl arrived. She wanted to be a great mom, and she thought she could especially do that with little girls.”

Alice nodded for him to go on.

“She loves Doritos so it’s hard for her because she’s pretty disciplined and won’t indulge herself. It’s her treat—just one small bag when she accomplishes something.”

“That must be quite often.”

“Well, not just any old accomplishment. More like when she stays away from them for three months or something.” He laughed. “And the day she eats them, she exercises a little more than usual. On the treadmill, or hiking a little longer…”

“So she’s a fitness nut. A health nut.”

“Well, not exactly—I wouldn’t say she’s crazy about it. But she’s certainly serious and pretty consistent about it. She eats pretty healthily, works out all the time whenever she can. That’s her only weakness, those Doritos. Other than that, she reads a lot. Brushes up on old cases, keeps up with new ones. She sings to our daughters when they cry…”

“Can she sing? Does she have a good voice? What kind of songs does she sing to them?”

David laughed.

“She can’t really sing worth a lick, but she’s not unbearable. And the girls like it. And that’s all that matters to her.” He chuckled. “There was this one time though, Amber said…”

As much as Alice’s original intention was to find out about her daughter, she found David’s words drifting away from her comprehension as she ended up watching him instead. She watched him as he smiled when he thought about various aspects of his wife that he found funny or cute. She watched as he searched his brain to appease her request, digging up as many tidbits that he could, things he remembered about Elaine that made her uniquely her. She watched as he was able to successfully speak extensively about her, finding nugget after nugget. She watched his excitement grow. But most of all, she watched how he loved her daughter, how he admired her, respected her. Knew her. And she loved him for it.

Alice smiled at what she realized must have been an inappropriate point in his sentence because he stopped what he was saying and looked at her, his expression reflecting worry.

“Something wrong, ma’am?” he asked cautiously.

Alice shook her head.

“Nothing. Just—she sounds wonderful. You sound very happy with her.”

David’s smile was wide.

“Oh, ma’am. That ain’t even the half of it. She’s a real dedicated mom, and she’s passionate about her work. I love her focus and determination. And on top of all that, she still manages to be a great wife. A great person. She’s talented, smart, and she’s loving. I always believed she’s what I needed to complete my life. And she is. She’s all I need. All I’ve ever wanted.”

Alice squeezed his hand.

“I believe you.”

***

“Don’t be so hard on your mother.”

Miriam stared at Elaine, unblinking.

Elaine was surprised, caught off guard not only because the conversation they’d been having had nothing to do with her mother in the least, but because Miriam had never outright told her how to feel about her mother before; she had never really taken sides. For as long as she had known her aunt, Miriam stayed away from the topic for the most part. Elaine was usually the one to bring up her mother for discussion and Miriam would only listen, saying nothing. She just let her vent.

Furthermore, the words that had gone through her mind just a few seconds ago were:
So help me Alice, if I find out you had anything to do with my father’s death, I will prosecute you myself.

“What are you talking about?” Elaine asked, and she felt a slight fear, one that told her she was about to be asked to confront something she was not yet ready to or perhaps would never be.

“No time for games, Elaine, you know exactly what I mean. Don’t be so hard on her. She’s had a rough time.”

There was no way Miriam could have known what she was thinking right before she gave her command so she figured Miriam could only be referring to one thing.

Elaine felt her usual bricks start joining together to build their wall around her.

She distracted herself by looking at her shoe.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that was an excuse.”

“What do you know about your mother?” Miriam asked.

She did not ask it in a rude way at all; it was a genuine question, and Miriam’s pale eyes reflected her curiosity, as if she was wondering about it just now for the first time. Still, Elaine knew that no matter what she said, it would not be enough. Miriam had a plan. In any case, she could easily admit to herself that she knew nothing, and the realization of how little she really knew about her mother struck her with a force that she was sure it caused the look of satisfaction that crept onto Miriam’s face.

“You don’t know a whole lot do you? Do you know anything about her life growing up?”

Miriam’s eyes pierced hers.

“That’s hardly relevant to anything…”

“It’s not? Then why are you so mean to her? If she did anything to you while growing up it can’t be relevant then, can it?”

Elaine silently conceded her point but patiently waited for her career skills to jump in.

Miriam still did not let her get away.

“Well? Tell me what you know…”

“So I don’t know anything. All I know is that she was a horrible mother. She was never there for me!”

Elaine knew she was on dangerous ground. She felt something in her start to break, and she knew she was dangerously close to tears. After years of bottling up her hurt and anger, she was on the verge of having the cap pop off. Like a balloon—one pop and the air released, leaving a deflated shrunken piece of latex. She struggled to find a change in subject but it was too late; Miriam had her in her trap. She gritted her teeth and held her tears at bay, promising herself Doritos if she made it.

“This is all I want to say,” Miriam began, “you can’t close yourself off when you have insufficient information. Let me ask you this—do you know your mother’s own mother died after giving birth to her?”

Elaine shook her head. She knew her grandmother had died a long time ago, but she had never questioned the cause.

“Do you know that her father sent her to his sister to raise?” Miriam continued, “For about four years? Do you know that he r-married when she was five, had another child, then sent her off to one of his sisters again when she began puberty? Do you know that it also coincided with the birth of his third child? His second child with her stepmother? Do you know that her father never sent back for her?”

“I still don’t think that’s any excuse. She’s my mother for Christ's sake!” But Elaine now felt she was partially lying to herself.

“She’s a human being first. Those might not be excuses, but they are reasons—and although not necessarily directly related to her relationship with you, they are in the background of her choices. And don’t think that’s the whole story because it’s not; people usually have a lot more going on, a lot more baggage than they ever let on. As you know very well, there’s usually a reason for the way people are, the things they do, how they react to different situations—whether we think they’re justified or not. Your hatred for her—the events that led up to it, are they excuses or reasons? Are you excused from loving your mother?”

“I should think so,” Elaine mumbled.

“Well, then, as you feel justified, having reasons or excuses for why you feel the way you do, do you at least understand that there might be reasons why she was not the mother you wanted her to be? Can you at least understand that?”

Elaine did not answer.

Her curiosity was piqued; her mother had never mentioned any siblings, but then again, they hadn’t exactly been on speaking terms. In any case, she could change the subject at last.

“These siblings of hers—did she keep in touch with them?”

Miriam shrugged.

“I doubt it. I do know that they all went to her father’s funeral about fifteen years ago. I’m not sure they spoke much before or after that; in fact, I’m not even sure they spoke then.”

Elaine looked over at her mother, finding herself wondering about her life for the first time. She could not imagine living life without the close relationship she had with her brother and father. And now she realized they had something in common: growing up without a mother. Elaine had had Miriam who was in and out of the role, while her mother was also reared by an aunt or two.

Furthermore, what were those other things that happened to her Miriam had been hinting at? What could possibly be worse than parental rejection? What else could have helped to make her the seemingly detached, indifferent person she was? A despicable mother—at least to her?

For the first time in her life, Elaine started to wonder if that wasn’t the person Alice was born to be after all.