Alice Bliss - Laura Harrington [26]
“Tell me he’s gonna be okay, Henry.”
“He’s gonna be okay, Alice.”
“Tell me every day, every time you see me.”
“Okay.”
“Help me believe it.”
“If anybody can make it through, your dad—”
“Yeah. Matt Bliss can do anything, right?”
“That’s what everybody says.”
Alice looks around at the stainless-steel table and the cupboard full of Band-Aids and aspirin and gauze pads and Ace bandages and wishes she still lived in a world where any of these things could make anything better.
“They cut up the bodies, Henry.”
“Alice, don’t—”
“Why would anybody . . . ? God . . . how do you fight against that?”
“I don’t know.”
Henry leans his head against the cot and inadvertently against her leg, or perhaps not so inadvertently, and straightens his legs in front of him. If she stretches her arm out, Alice can just barely reach the top of his head. It is nearly, but not quite, touch. She doesn’t know why this is so important right now, but it is.
B.D. is not happy with Alice when she leaves practice at four fifteen and sprints for home. Another little checkmark next to her name on B.D.’s clipboard, Alice thinks. She doesn’t want any checkmarks next to her name, just improving times.
Gram and Ellie are waiting in the car when she turns into the driveway. Great. Now she gets to go to the hairdressers in her running shorts and sweaty T-shirt. Ellie bamboozled Gram into letting her ride shotgun, so Alice climbs into the backseat and pulls a sweatshirt out of her backpack and over her head.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Gram says.
“You stink,” Ellie announces.
“Shut up, Ellie!”
Gram puts the car into gear and slowly backs out of the driveway.
“We’re just going to make it.”
“Don’t worry, Gram, they always make us wait.”
“Daddy called.”
“He did?”
“For two minutes.”
“And I missed it?”
“It was a terrible connection,” Gram adds. “We were shouting.”
“He’s okay?”
“He sounded good,” Gram says.
“He sounded great,” Ellie crows.
He’s okay floods through Alice and she takes what feels like her first deep breath all day.
At Headlines, Alice’s basic trim takes ten minutes. Ellie is furiously flipping through magazines and turning pages down.
“I need glasses,” Ellie says as she shrugs out of her coat and climbs onto the stylist’s chair.
“What?” Alice asks.
“They tested us at school today. These are the ones I want,” she says, tossing Alice a magazine. Then, turning to Patty, she unfolds the picture of the haircut she wants.
“Is your mom okay with this?” Patty asks.
“Oh, yeah,” Ellie bluffs.
“You sure?”
“Totally.”
Alice gets up to take a look at the picture.
“You want that?”
“Yes.”
“I could do that at home with a bowl over your head.”
“Ha, ha,” Ellie says, not laughing.
“Who is that?”
“I don’t know. Some film star from the old days.”
“Gram? You know who this is?” Alice asks.
“Louise Brooks,” Gram says. “I think she’s the one who inspired everybody to bob their hair.”
“It’ll be cute on her,” Patty offers.
“You sure you want this haircut?” Alice asks.
“I love it,” Ellie says. “Love, love, love it.”
“The bangs are really short, Ellie.”
“That’s the point.”
“Okay, then.”
Alice sits down to watch as Ellie’s braids are cut off. Gram sits down beside her and reaches over to take Alice’s hand.
“Your mother is going to kill me,” she whispers, as she pulls out a handkerchief and blows her nose.
Patty carefully saves the braids in an envelope, knowing that Angie will probably want them. And if not, Ellie can donate them to Locks of Love. Ellie has her hands over her eyes so she can have the maximum surprise when it’s all done.
“You can open your eyes,” Patty says.
Ellie takes a look; her expression is dead serious.
“Can I see the back?” she asks.
Patty gets a mirror.
“Okay. Can you take the cape off?”
Ellie hops off the chair. She’s wearing a dress with a big skirt and cap sleeves. She twirls around and her skirt bells out around her and her hair flies out from her face and for sure, she will be the only little girl with this hairstyle, the only little girl to wear these kinds of dresses. She looks like