Alice Bliss - Laura Harrington [99]
“Honey . . .”
“How did they find him? Was there a rescue? What happened, Mom? I need to know what happened.”
“I don’t have answers to all of your questions.”
“Just tell me what you know.”
“And we don’t have the results of the autopsy yet.”
“How hard is it to tell whether he died from his wounds, or further injuries, or pneumonia? That’s pretty simple.”
“Nothing is simple with the U.S. Army.”
“You’re stalling.”
“All that they’ve told me so far is that he died from his wounds.”
“When?”
“That’s what the autopsy is for.”
“How did they find him?”
Angie takes a sip of her drink, looks out the kitchen window to the dark shadow of Matt’s workshop. She does not want her daughter to hear these words, to be haunted, as she is haunted by this knowledge.
“. . . Mom . . .?”
“His body was dumped on the side of the road.”
“Where?”
“Eleven miles from where he was captured.”
Alice leans against the counter.
“Was he mutilated?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
“Did they take his organs?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Really sure?”
“Yes. Alice—”
“Did they ever give you Travis Boyd’s phone number or address?”
“They say they’re working on it.”
“Was anyone else with Dad?”
“I don’t know.”
“How bad were his wounds? Have they told you?”
“No, they haven’t.”
“I keep imagining the worst things.”
“So do I.”
“It must have been terrifying.”
“Yes.”
Angie reaches out to Alice just as Alice takes a step away.
“Mom, sometimes I think I can’t stand it; I won’t be able to . . .”
Alice looks down at her hands, clenching and unclenching her fists.
“Daddy would want you to . . . He would want us all to really live, honey, really live in this world and try to make a difference.”
“I know.”
“He was so proud of you.”
“I don’t know why. I never did anything amazing.”
“He was proud of the person you are, the person you’re becoming.”
“I want him back.”
“So do I, sweetheart. So do I.”
Alice is the last one in the shower later that morning. The hot water runs out before her hair is rinsed so by the time she gets the shampoo out she’s chilled to the bone. But that’s okay, that’s perfect, in fact. She is dog tired and feels like she is hearing and seeing and feeling everything through thick layers of cotton wool. Everything is a little vague, a little removed; cool and distant.
Upstairs, she pulls on her dress from the dance and slips on her flats. She rakes her fingers through her hair and goes into her mom’s room to grab a sweater. She tries not to look at all the pictures of her dad on the dresser, but there they are: the early morning sun is streaming into the room and lighting them up.
Ellie is sitting on the top step of the stairs, dressed in a new plaid dress Gram bought her with white socks and brand new black patent leather shoes with straps. Ellie has her stuffed polar bear in her lap and her thumb in her mouth, which she yanks out as soon as Alice sits down.
“I put my sheets in the hamper.”
“I’ll help you make your bed later, okay?”
“You’ll forget.”
“No, I won’t.”
“I don’t want to go,” Ellie announces.
“Me neither.”
“I’m scared he’ll be stuck in that stupid cemetery forever,” Ellie says.
“Me, too.”
“I hate that idea.”
“Daddy would hate it, too.”
“You’re lucky.”
“Why?”
“He loved you best.”
“He did not!”
“And you got to be with him longer than me. Seven years longer. That’s almost double.”
Angie calls to them to come and get in the car.
“Do you have the passage you’re supposed to read?” Alice asks.
“Why are they making us do this?”
“You scared?”
“I’m gonna want to cry and I can’t cry up there . . . Alice?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want this day to happen. Can’t you tell somebody? Can’t you make it stop?”
“It won’t be any easier tomorrow, Ellie.”
“How about never, then. Never would be good.”
From downstairs they hear:
“Girls! Let’s go!”
They stand up. Ellie takes Alice’s hand.
“I wish we could absquatulate.”
“What’s that?”
“Flee.”
They get through the service somehow. Little old Sacred Heart is packed to the rafters. There’s crying all around them, but the Birds and the Blisses seem