Alice Bliss - Laura Harrington [110]
“You’re too young! Do you hear me, Alice?” Gram says.
“Yes, Gram, I hear you,” Alice manages to say quietly, looking down at her lap.
She hopes this looks like remorse rather than an attempt to contain hysterical laughter.
“It’s all about trust, Henry,” Mrs. Grover says.
“I know, Mom.”
“Trust you earn every day.”
“Yes, Mom.”
Henry’s head is bending lower and lower over his plate.
“We didn’t . . .” Alice begins.
“Good!” Gram finishes for her.
“You’re too young!” Mrs. Grover adds, picking up on Gram’s perennial theme.
“Can we go now?” Henry asks.
“Go where?”
“Just for a walk,” Alice says in her most innocent voice, like, remember how we were in diapers together?
Miraculously, they let them go. Everyone is so distracted and overwhelmed and exhausted, eating and drinking too much, or not at all, relieved that Henry and Alice and the car are safe and sound, that they return to their conversations and refill their glasses, as Henry and Alice walk out the kitchen door and head off through the backyards.
Gram and Mrs. Grover watch them go and even though Henry and Alice are very careful not to touch each other, Gram and Mrs. Grover can see in their bodies, the way they yearn and turn toward each other, that something has happened. Mrs. Grover sits down suddenly in one of the kitchen chairs, a dishtowel in one hand, a serving platter in the other, feeling an overwhelming urge to cry. Gram sits down beside her and takes her hand.
“He’s loved her all his life,” Mrs. Grover manages to say.
They ponder this a moment as Henry and Alice pass out of sight into the deepening twilight.
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Gram says.
May 31st
The Memorial Day parade passes right by their house, as it always does. Uncle Eddie is driving the newest Miss Belknap in a bright yellow Corvette like he does every year. Different car, different Miss Belknap, same old Uncle Eddie. But Uncle Eddie looks a little different, too, Alice notices, a little uncomfortable, or distracted, like his heart’s not really in it. Maybe this is the last year for a lot of things.
Alice and Henry have set up chairs on the sidewalk. Ellie, Angie, and Gram are marching with the local Veteran’s Association. This year the Greater Belknap VA invited all the families of men and women serving in Iraq to join them in the parade.
Alice and Ellie made Angie a sign to carry:
MATT BLISS
1968–2006
New York National Guard
42nd Infantry, Iraq
Alice joins Henry, bringing lemonade, though she refuses to sit down. It is too soon to be out here, too soon to rejoin their friends and neighbors like this. Alice still feels raw, as though her emotions are constantly on the verge of being out of control. Some days she can pretend to be normal, some days she can’t; so she stays on her feet, ready to clear out if necessary.
She has been drawn to the curb almost against her will, to hear the school bands and see the old soldiers and the young soldiers, to see the policemen in cruisers and on horseback, to see the teams marching, and the Boy Scouts and the Girl Scouts. She is not with her team; in fact, she is off the team. She has promised B.D. that she will run all summer and rejoin them for cross country in the fall. Right now, though, Alice still can’t predict what she can and can’t do each day. She is only now beginning to think that she could ever go back to school.
She waves at Mrs. Minty across the street and down a ways, and Mrs. Piantowski, a bit farther down, surrounded by her children. And there’s John Kimball and his father and his brother, Joey; and Stephie, with her mom and dad.
Here comes the Folding Lawn Chair Brigade. Their annual comic routine of synchronized and choreographed moves with lawn chairs and music is always a big hit. This is Ellie and Henry’s favorite part of the parade. Next are the politicians in convertibles, the fire trucks, and the high