Alice Bliss - Laura Harrington [18]
She listens to Ellie snoring and thinks of hearing her dad’s voice coming through the phone, saying: “Angie . . . ?” Did they say good-bye? Did they ever actually say good-bye? She thinks of her mom’s untouched tray, Ellie’s bloody mittens, she hopes their jackets will be dry in the morning, and somewhere in there—after she gets up and gets her old stuffed bear off the shelf, which feels silly and childish but right now she doesn’t care—somewhere in there, she falls asleep.
March 23rd
Alice and Henry walk Ellie to school every morning, and then instead of climbing the hill and crossing the middle school playing fields to get to the high school, they go the long way around, down Belknap Road and past the Four Corners. Alice and Henry could take the bus but they both hate the bus. Nothing good ever happens on that bus. They walk no matter what the weather so they can just be for twenty minutes before school. They don’t talk much; some days they don’t talk at all.
Henry and Alice have known each other, as their parents like to say, since they were in utero. This phraseology has become less and less charming the older they get. They’ve also been stuck having play dates since they were born because their families are neighbors. This was not such a big deal in grade school. Fifth grade got a little uncomfortable. If they could have gone to different middle and high schools it might’ve been better. But it is what it is.
The facts include things like Henry coming home from school in second grade and telling his mom, “I’m going to marry Alice. William wants to marry her, too, but he can’t.” Their mothers repeat this stuff. Still! They also got caught—of course—stealing candy from Mr. Ricci’s corner store and playing doctor and locking Ellie in a closet—she had a flashlight!—and whatever else little kids get up to. And just when Alice thinks she can’t stand one more day of enforced friendship with Henry, he will do something so amazing that she thinks he’s a saint or something.
Henry was always small for his age. So small that his parents worried and his doctors worried and Henry had to go through all these tests and things. But in the last six months, he has grown six inches. Henry is not the same boy. At all.
Sometimes Alice looks into his face and sees that his eyes are grayer and he has these cheekbones that look about as sharp as his ankles and wrists. Everything about Henry is a little angular and over defined, like all that fast growing hasn’t given his skin a chance to catch up yet. It’s like he’s still two people: little kid Henry and growing up Henry, and Alice is watching those two people switch places right in front of her eyes.
Henry’s brother, Rob, is a lot older. He’s already graduated from college in Boston and is working for a relief organization in Haiti. So his parents are older, too, and Alice’s mom is always saying that Henry’s the kind of kid who needs to come from a big family. He needs the noise and the friction and the company. Not that the Blisses actually qualify as a big family, but if you add Henry, their numbers start to look a little more substantial.
Today Henry is worried about baseball tryouts. He loves to play baseball, but he pretty much sucks in every position. And Alice, who goes to most of Henry’s games, has seen him play just about every position. Coaches move Henry around the field, thinking if they could just harness all that enthusiasm, some talent might emerge.
Alice has spent long spring and summer evenings playing catch with Henry, trying to pitch for Henry, and trying to field for Henry. Occasionally her dad would join them and they’d toss the ball around in the spring twilight, the streetlights coming on one by one, crickets whirring, that damp, green spring smell redolent in the air around them. Something else was in the air as well; something about promise and possibility and another beginning, another summer just around the corner.
But with her dad gone, they have not been tossing the ball around much. In fact, Alice doesn’t even know where her mitt is.
The whole tryout