Alice in the Morning
Alice was beautiful and I didn't know what to make of her. I proposed to her before any other man got the chance. A tear crawled out of the inner corner of her eye and glared at me while sweet tones whispered, 'I do.' We were idyllic and bought a home in the middle of nowhere, Montana. We gathered up everything and set off down the road. We bought goats and pigs and chickens and cooked a feast; we rested our hands on full bellies the first night in our little home. A robin sang outside the window and rays of sunlight led dust particles to our bed. I watched Alice on her side breathing, her jaw hung down a little drool on her pillow. I remember there was a tingle on my spine and my jostling at the thought of some inconsiderate arthropod woke Alice. One tender eyelid slid open, the sun caught the gold flecks that swam around in her eyes and made them glow. She glanced up and abruptly turned her head away from me. I said something affectionate, but my voice scratched like a fork on a glass plate and her shoulders shuddered as I pulled her close; I heard her heartbeat and mine slowed a little comforted by the company. Alice rolled onto her other side and when our cozily warmed bodies lost contact I scooted forward to just barely allow the outermost atoms of her back hold the outermost atoms of my stomach perfectly. Human contact is the most important aspect of my life, she would say every now and again. Surrounding myself with beauty is mine. And we'd smile at each other.
I found a job working Sunday through Friday at the lumberyard. The hours were long and so I would come home and have a beer or two with my dinner. In the morning I would have Alice cook a hearty breakfast. She would unwrap the tin foil around the glossy dark yellow cheese and cut thick pieces off from the corner; little triangles that she flipped into the whisked eggs and scrambled with a little ham. It was so satisfying to watch as she moved the eggs around in the pan, molding them to my slightest whim until they became a fluffy golden heap. She always put too much cream in my coffee and stirred with the tip of her finger chuckling, 'It really isn't all that hot' at my disapproval. I read the paper every morning and downed a tall glass of orange juice before heading off with lunch pail in hand. 'Thanks, babe. What's for dinner tonight?' I might say with Alice standing on the porch, her arm rocking back and forth, and her fingers stretched apart but falling limply down toward her palm. She might mumble, 'Pot roast'. I played poker with some of the guys on Friday nights and was known to take Alice into the city on Saturday nights if my winnings were high. We'd walk along the streets and I would wrap my hand around hers squeezing like I held some precious stone and we would have such a great time dancing and drinking and laughing. But I remember one night waiting outside some bar for Alice, a man with a thick beard struck up a conversation with me. 'That girl you were sitting with, she your wife?' He kept his eyes down and the words came out forced. 'ThatÕs right.'
'SheÕs beautiful. You are a damn lucky man'
'She is beautiful,' something in his face changed, it went slack, 'But she doesn't mean a thing to me.' I stared at him waiting for a reaction, but he was looking behind me. And I turned to see Alice's face tight, each eyebrow tensed downward, she was looking behind me. We went into town. I loaded the car with groceries while she ran inside the store for forgotten peanut butter. A man with a long stride and droopy mouth walked out beside her; I watched as he leaned close and let his hand brush a few strands of gold away from her ear to whisper his beard almost touching her cheek and because as she walked toward me her eyes were so bright and the red delicious apples of her cheeks bulging the lips barely able to keep shut and straight, my throat closed dry and my back pulled up like a marionette's on a string. The ride home was silent. We pulled over by the old apple tree on the outskirts of our property. The tree was huge, but bent near broken under the weight of all the apples in its branches. Alice called me over to help her shake the apples off. I stood there gripping an elephant's trunk swinging my arms back and forth and wondered if Alice behind me even held onto the thick branch any more. When the apples fell she strolled in a spiral around the tree and stooped to pick the future applesauce, apple pies, apple cider. She tossed an apple to me in a smooth arc. I bit down and chewed, letting the sweet juice fill up my mouth. I rotated the apple to find my second bite and saw a dull gray movement. My stomach collapsed in on itself and a worm slimed back down into my apple as I screamed, brandishing the lumpy dark red fruit at the sky. I chucked it hard at the tree, it blew into smithereens and I choked on my laughter while Alice plucked bits of the white flesh from her hair with her mouth pulled down into a mucking frown. 'What was that for? I didn't know it was bad' Her voice strained and her head was slightly bowed her eyes glowered up at me. A robin chirruped a couple of times. 'What did that man say to you outside the store?' The wind blew leaves at my feet and I couldn't stop staring at them. She dropped her arms loosely to her sides and walked over to me, stretched out her arms and folded them over my back, nestling her face in the nape of my neck. I didn't move for a long time. I kept my eyes open following the tumbles of the leaves. Probably, she told me that the man didn't mean anything to her and that I had nothing to worry about, but I wasn't paying attention and it didn't matter because I saw the way he touched her. Weeks went by and I shut her out. She would plead with me her eyes so wide and childlike looking wildly at me, and I would be reminded of when we first met and run my fingers through her hair or throw her onto the bed and make love to her, but I wouldn't listen to her anymore; she'd open up her mouth and I'd grab a book or run out the door or scream how am I supposed believe anything a lying little slut has to say. Everywhere we went I saw the gangly gentleman caller lurking in corners waiting for Alice, but I'd never give them another chance to humiliate me. She ruined the Thanksgiving Day turkey. She brought it out onto the table in a large glass platter smoldering a little. I examined the bird and saw it had been burned in most places and would be very dry in others and I could feel veins throbbing throughout my entire body as I picked up the platter and heaved it onto the floor. The glass shattered and scattered as she cowered behind her chair and I shouted obscenities. After she cleaned up the mess on the floor I calmed down and offered her some eggnog, but she shrugged and walked outside with just a shawl that she pulled close to her body, pushing her elbows into her ribs and tucking her chin down to rest on her chest. 'Come back in. You'll freeze out here.' 'It's warmer than in there.' She said it flatly. 'What the hell is your problem, Alice?' Her eyes flickered for a second and then she turned away. I started to walk toward her, but then I thought better of it and left her in the backyard to sulk. Her eyes were all puffy when she came back inside and she lay down on the edge of the bed on her side her back to me and didn't say a word when I grumbled goodnight. There were a few times that I tried to find out what was wrong with her, but she never answered. Sometimes I pretended things were good between us. I took her out to dinner and was sweet to her, but she was distant and there was always a man staring over from across the room. She stopped making my lunches. And then she stopped getting up to make my breakfast. She burned dinner every night. My toast was charcoal and like biting down on rocks with a little creamy butter slathered on them. The boys at work said she always seemed a little odd and you canÕt let her disrespect you every day like that. They swore they'd tell me if they saw her with any men in the town and I was at ease when I played poker on Friday nights knowing that Alice was home and the guys had plenty of beer. One night I came home after losing a few hundred to find her crouching in front of the fireplace with her left hand inside the flames. Some exclamation bounded out of my lips as I snatched her delicate palm squeezing until my knuckles turned white and I could see her brow fold up in pain. 'Alice, why would you do that to yourself? That scared the shit out of me.' When I let go of her hand and she could see the raw garnet skin her eyelids shut and her mouth opened lips raised at the corners, 'It really wasn't all that hot.' A tear streamed down my cheek and she wiped it with her sleeve. She threw her arms around me and stifled fits of laughter and crying in my collar. Her hand had to bandaged for a couple of weeks and when she unwound the white cloth I saw that the scars looked like bare trees. When I told her she laughed and I brought my hands up to her cheeks and kissed each saying, 'I love you.' Gold eyes looked down at the floor and she smiled to herself. We would be alone together in our home and she wouldnÕt say a word just nod or smile or wrinkle her nose. Some nights she stared at me from the chair by the fireplace, her lips drawn tightly together, a few young wrinkles showing or some nights she wouldn't look at me at all and let her lips part to absentmindedly run her tongue along her lips. I could tell she resented me and was so bored and I couldn't stand it. I bought her books and candy and took her into the city, but her eyes stayed somewhere else and she was so cold when I touched her. I tried growing out my chestnut beard until the only thing that hinted my presence to deer in the wood was the pink sheen from my nose in the cold. At first Alice was amused by my beard and would tug on it lovingly, but as time passed, she pulled more and more sharply on it ripping patches of hair out and the dimples in her cheeks as her lips curled up told me she wasnÕt sorry like she said she was. Sometimes she stayed out all night walking. I followed her once. She stopped at our shed and grabbed the scythe. She went out to the fields. I watched her put all her might into each swing; the wheat fell cleanly and she bared her teeth in a wide grin and I was scared seeing her like this. After a long time she collapsed on the ground and lay panting her stomach rising and falling her eyes closed. I sat on the ground a few feet off and she was beautiful, I didn't care about anything except being near her. I got up and lay down next to her. 'Beautiful girl, I love you.' Alice rustled on the grass a little but I could see she was drifting off so I grabbed her wrist and closed my eyes. I fell asleep out there and woke up cold and soaking with the first rain of spring and the sky still indigo. The scythe lay on the ground, but Alice wasn't there anymore. I started off back toward the house. It was a long walk and it must've rained hard because the dawn made everything shimmer with raindrops and the ground was sludgy, like wet sand. I came home to find the door was open. There was a note tucked partially under the doormat. I stood on the porch a while with my arms crossed and held tightly against my chest. My stomach churned and I had to grab the railing to steady myself. Alice was gone. The morning sky filled with gold and tangerine hues and I couldn't go inside because Alice had left me. For a few minutes I let tears meander down my cheeks, but I didn't make a sound and I didn't move. I never knew her in summer and I watched the trees blow with the breeze. I had to leave the house.
I walked up and down a few hills rolling still and if you stare long enough the bumps blend together and it's one chunk of earth and dead grass and tress forever. Off to the west the charcoaled roast clouds were all but gone, a fine screen of mist below them, they were crying a little. The ground here was steeped in rainwater and remnants of insects floated like bits of cheerios in water. A robin hopped daintily from puddle to puddle swallowing the chitin corpses whole. He cocked his head at me and surveyed the freshly ironed creases in my skin, but in an instant he had nimbly skipped over to the next treasure trove. The trees on the next hill were broken cigars, but one was twisting, contorting itself into this sickly stance to face the sky. I started staring up at the sky too. The unraveled cotton drifted across the baby blue, but when the wind picked up it rushed out the door without even a kiss on the cheek, just a diminutive nod. A dragonfly nagged again and again in my ear until finally I got up and walked toward the merry robin. Wind flipped brittle grass and swept the robin up high in spurts and brought it to rest on the top of a birch, the robin's orange peel breast was conspicuous against the pale, bony appendages. Warbling a little, the robin puffed out its chest, let its head fall back ad bellowed upward, but the clouds kept migrating south and he was alone.