Emancipating Alice (11 page)

She had a small, sly smile on her face.

“Aunt Miriam, I would have let you do it but Lacey...”

Miriam put a finger to her lips and continued.

“I considered sugilite, chrysoprase, citrine, peridot. Any one can work for you. Perhaps you should have them all—but Elaine would get jealous. So I chose peridot.”

She handed him a greenish stone, keychain and a pendant.

“Use it. Keep the stone on you if you can. You will find yourself getting lucky.”

Drew looked appreciative but skeptical.

Miriam smiled and turned to Alice.

Alice felt like it was Christmas and could not believe how giddy and childlike she felt waiting on her gift.

“And for you, Alice.” She pulled out a light pink stone and pendant. “It was a hard decision. But I decided rose quartz was the one for you. You may also have this dress.” She held up what looked like a traditional Native American dress.

“Thank you, Miriam, you didn’t have to...”

Miriam waved her words away. Addressing them all, she said:

“I did not get these things for my health. Use them, hold them, carry them. Do not insult me by pretending you will. Just do it.”

***

“I think we should see a psychic,” Miriam said when they were all gathered in the family room once more after the children had been put to bed. Even Dennis rolled his eyes at this. Drew was about to laugh but he saw there was not a hint of a smile on his aunt’s face.

“You’re serious?” he asked her.

She turned and looked at him with her pale blue eyes, and he saw that she was.

His aunt scared him at times—she always seemed to be stoned out, elsewhere.

“Well
I’m
certainly not going,” his mom said. “I don’t see the point. I don’t believe in that stuff anyway.”

“Whether or not you believe in it, it’s real,” Miriam said. “You just have to find the right people.”

His mom shrugged her off.

Miriam looked at Elaine.

“Don’t look at me—I’m not going,” Elaine said, her brown hair bouncing as she shook her head.

“May I take your daughters then?”

Drew had to suppress his laughter at this request and Elaine’s face in response to it. He knew Elaine had to restrain herself from being rude.

“No thank you,” she said at last. “I would rather not expose my daughters to such…folly.”

Drew knew she wanted to say “garbage,” or probably even “bullshit.” He loved to see her struggle to be polite but loved it even more when she failed. Unfortunately, this wasn’t one of those times.

“Suit yourself.”

Miriam looked at Drew.

“Will you bring Jack?”

“I have to go with my sister on this one. I don’t think the children should be exposed to it. But I’ll go. Sounds like fun.”

“Fun? You clearly have the wrong idea about it.”

Miriam turned back to his sister and mother.

“Is there anything you would like me to ask?”

Alice shook her head.

Drew was surprised to see Elaine looking like she was thinking about it.

“I would like to know how he really died, what his last moments were like. But I doubt your ‘psychic’ could tell me that.”

Elaine looked briefly at their mother with something that strangely resembled suspicion.

His mom turned to Miriam and said:

“How about—did he get what he wanted? Did he fulfill all of his desires?”

Miriam nodded her acceptance.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“An’ it harm none, do what thou wilt.”
—Wiccan Rede

Summer 1973

Bloomington, Illinois

Beyond assisting her with Elaine, Miriam tried to help Alice.

“You have too many sharp corners,” Miriam had said before moving things around in the house according to
feng shui
principles she had learned. “The energy has to be just right,” she said. “You need round tables, more space. Put a plant in this corner, bring some greenery in.”

Miriam brought in a few plants, and Alice allowed only the artificial ones. The wind chimes, however, were a no-no. She did, however, allow Miriam to bring in an indoor water fountain—it was either that or goldfish, and Alice certainly did not want another living responsibility.

Alice particularly liked the fountain Miriam had chosen for her as a gift. Miriam had called it
kakei
. It was a bamboo fountain with water flowing from a bamboo statue into a mint-green bowl surrounded by river stones. It was quite beautiful and made Alice feel soothed whenever she looked at it, watched the water circulate, listened to the water stream. Perhaps it was coincidence, but once Miriam had reorganized the place, she was able to think more clearly; she felt calmer, and things in general seemed to go much better.

As a result of Miriam’s suggestions and talk about plants, Alice began to think about taking up gardening, and eventually considered bringing real plants into the house.

Once gardening had become her interest and she started looking for information about it, Miriam had some tips and advice in that area too. But Miriam had a different kind of knowledge to impart than she was looking for.

Miriam taught her about plants that supposedly had medicinal purposes, passing on information she had garnered while passing through the Caribbean, Central and South America.
Bush medicine
, she called it.

Alice learned about quinine from the bark of the cinchona tree, used for the treatment of malaria. And she learned that, on some islands, Cascarilla or Sweetwood was used to treat stomach irritations and aches. That aloe vera could be used as a purgative to “clean out the system” digestively, and its gel could be used to relieve burns and sunburns. That spotted basil could treat asthma, bronchitis, chest colds, and skin rashes. That the leaves of the breadfruit could be used for high blood pressure, and cera seed for fever and the flu. She was told that yellow sage could relieve the itching of chicken pox.

Rosy periwinkle is only the beginning to curing cancer,
Miriam had said, for the cure to every ailment as far as she was concerned, was in nature; part of the reason she was always interested in herbs.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the cure for all types of cancer is right in the bushes of the Congo,” she had stated once. “I would like to visit there someday by the way—I hear they still have dinosaurs.”

Alice could only shake her head, roll her eyes.

Miriam had even wanted to use Blue Flowers on Elaine, for it was said to soothe babies with colic, gas, and constipation but Alice wasn’t yet sold on the healing power of nature just yet—not to that degree.

Still, Alice was not really surprised by Miriam’s theory—to her it made sense that ailments from nature would have their cures in it too—in the bushes and jungles, under the ground and in barks of trees.

Miriam also told Alice about other ways plants were used to treat the body. For instance, she told her about various ways that women used plants to induce a miscarriage when abortion was not available. Miriam told her the details of some of the methods and Alice wished she had met Miriam earlier.

When Miriam was not around and she had some time to herself with Elaine asleep or in school, Alice did a lot of reading about plants in general. She would read the books George brought home, and would check some out from the library regarding the subject. She learned many interesting things; for example, in her gardening research, Alice learned about companion planting: the benefits of planting two or more different plants next to each other for mutual benefit—sometimes by way of keeping away natural pests and improving the overall quality and yield.

She also ended up learning a lot about weeds—how to identify them, how to get rid of them. How pervasive they could be.

From there, Alice took a particular interest in invasive species. She read about the pond-apple, known also as the alligator apple, native to the West Indies and Florida. When introduced in Australia, it ended up choking mangrove swamps. Its seedlings would stop other species from germinating and thriving after it took over the banks.

Then there was the alligator weed which invaded waterways and in doing so, reduced the flow and quality of water, causing fish deaths and the death of native plants while conveniently creating a favorable habitat for breeding mosquitoes. This plant, as an invasive species, turned out to be very hard to control, but easily controlled its environment.

Then there was the Australian pine, the casuarina, populous on Florida and West Indian island beaches where it was introduced. The casuarina was to the West Indies and Florida what the alligator apple was to Australia—forcing animals and plants to compete for food and space, and making it difficult for other species to thrive as it altered the environment by adjusting light, temperature and soil chemistry.

Alice also learned about the hidden dangers of her own garden, in the plants she wanted to cultivate. The dangerous beauties, such as lantanas, foxglove, the arum lily. While she was in no danger of biting into any of the plants or eating a poisonous berry, her small children could be attracted to them. She had to be careful what she cultivated.

Poisons in general became another area of fascination for Alice as a result of learning about her plants. Miriam had no shortage of information on this as well, as Alice soon found out.

The subject came up one day when Miriam had brought up one of her philosophies.

“Can’t hurt to try everything at least once,” she had said.

Alice smirked at her.

“Oh yeah? What about poison?”

Instead of laughing or smiling off the joke, Miriam started talking about all she knew about poison which didn’t stop at plants.

She talked about the poison arrow frog, and its deadly skin which secretes poisons that can kill other animals, including humans. That they are small but brightly colored to warn predators, using a process that was the opposite of camouflage:
aposematism
—a natural means of defense by which an animal becomes as noticeable as possible by employing loud, obvious colors, sounds, or some other method as a warning to potential predators.

Don’t dare come near.

Still, Alice was most interested in the idea of a garden, and through trial and error, started figuring out the weeding and the planting, the watering and the fertilizing. She had a new set of children to look after, and she poured herself into learning as much as she could to help them thrive.

***

Friday, June 30th 2006

“You should have brought more of the outside in,” said Miriam to Alice earlier in the day when she was showing her around her gardens.

Alice was very proud of those gardens. She always received compliments on her plants—well-earned, as far as she was concerned. She grew food for the eyes on the sides of the house, and food for the stomach in the back. Her land was beautified in the front and sides by the pinks and creams of foxglove and roses, the lavender, blue and white of larkspur and periwinkle, the bright yellow of achillea, marigolds and sunflowers, while in the back she grew potatoes, thyme, and parsley. She planted sage near her carrots, and basil among her peppers and tomatoes. She planted mint and rosemary around her cabbage and broccoli. Alice didn’t just gain a hobby—she gained food, spices, beauty.

She was also able to share this passion and pacifier of hers with others, giving away edible plants when asked, making bouquets for neighbors on special occasions. It was a way to connect with others, a vine between her and the rest of the world.

Her gardens brought her great joy; the only things she was convinced she did right. She wanted to share this one accomplishment, bring light to others as it had brought light to her over all the years.

As the night moved in, ushering her closer to funeral day, she watched the moon from her window, glowing in the sky.

She liked the consistency of the moon—it came out every night despite the darkness, making its own ring of light in the dark. It never went anywhere although at times it seemed to, such as in the daytime. But it was always there, just waiting for the right tilt of the earth to partially reveal itself. Sometimes it met the sun before it had a chance to hide. Sometimes the brightness of the sky made her shield her eyes. Sometimes the darkness swallowed her despite the moon.

The lines from a Terry Pratchett book she had read came back to her now:
Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.

Alice turned away from the moon, went inside and waited for her son and sister-in-law to come back from their outing.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Elaine stopped her brainstorming when she heard a car pull up.

Despite her skepticism, she was curious and excited about the results of the trip to the psychic.

She got up from the table to greet her brother and aunt.

“So how did it go?” Elaine asked Drew and Miriam once they entered the house.

Drew’s eye-rolling was lost on Miriam who was a few steps behind him.

Elaine tried not to laugh.

“No hidden money somewhere? No deep, dark secrets? No message for any of us?”

Elaine tried to ignore her investment in the results, especially the last question since she didn’t believe they would actually be successful in finding someone who could give them genuine, valuable information.

She told herself that she just needed something to laugh at to relieve some stress.

“I thought it went rather well,” Miriam said. “There’s no hidden money, but there was a message.”

Drew looked at her as if she had started picking her nose and eating what she had found.

“Okay, let’s start at the beginning,” he said. “So we went to this place that I’m sure nobody knows about…”

“Those who need to, know,” Miriam said softly.

Drew ignored her.

“And, it’s not even set up like the real psychic places—no glass balls, no dark, curtained room, no turban…”

Elaine laughed.

“Right?” Drew continued. “So it’s a regular place, a regular woman—a stressed looking one at that—dark hair, dark eyes, about forty. Maybe forty-five. She didn’t really look too happy to see us either. To be honest, it looked like she was about to cuss us out and tell us to get the hell out.”

“How much did it cost?” Elaine asked.

“Hell, the way she was looking at us I was sure she was gonna charge us an arm and a leg—literally—just for bothering her. But get this—she didn’t charge us anything. Not a single cent. Miriam went to her, whispered something in her ear then gave her some kind of funny handshake. Anyway, so we sit down and she asked us—well actually she asked me: where is your brother? So right away I know this chick doesn’t know anything unless you had a sex change I don’t know about. I really don’t know where Aunt Miriam found her...” He looked at Miriam, “...no offense Miriam. I know you usually know your stuff but everyone’s a hit or miss every now and then. Anyway so I correct her and say: you mean my sister? And then I tell her you didn’t want to come. She didn’t say anything and still looking sullen—I’m telling you, this chick was ready to kick our asses—she tells us to sit. Then, she’s like: there has been a death in the family.” Drew rolled his eyes dramatically and swirled his finger. “Big whoop-de-do right? I mean the main reasons people visit psychics is because someone they know died, or they want to know about some money. Or both. So guess what comes next. She says I’m struggling financially and I’m looking for ways to bring in more moolah. She tells me not to worry, things will be okay blah blah blah other general stuff and that I’ll be coming into a satisfactory inheritance.” He paused. “I mean seriously, Elaine, you could have probably done that reading for us. Speaking of which, what’s in that will for me?”

Elaine thought a moment. “Well, we do have some money but it’s not a whole lot. He left most everything to mom. He had some money for our kids too. Hey, maybe that’s what it is—she means in the future by way of your kid. Maybe she means you’ll get money from Jack becoming a famous soccer player.”

Elaine smiled and hoped it came across as being a supportive, serious smile. But even Drew wasn’t deluding himself.

“Yeah, sure. But anyway, she made it sound immediate you know? Like with this particular tragedy, this death, I’ll get something. Maybe there’s a more updated copy of the will somewhere.”

Elaine shrugged.

“I don’t know what to tell you bro. But why are you hanging onto that part when you believe she’s a fraud anyway? I thought you were convinced she was crap from the get-go.”

It was Drew’s time to shrug.

“Well, yeah but, you know. Hope makes you hang onto crazy things I guess. So anyway, I wouldn’t go back. She’s just like everyone else, in more ways than one. Nothing specific, nothing new.”

Elaine looked at Miriam to see how she was reacting. Miriam had a serene look on her face; almost expressionless.

“Truth is at the heart of every cloud,” she said, to no one in particular. Then specifically to Alice she said:

“For you she said you can eat your cake and have it too.”

“Don’t you mean…”

“I said what I meant. And she meant what she said.”

Once Miriam had gone off with Dennis and Alice had gone back upstairs, Elaine cornered Drew in the kitchen just as he opened a jar of peanut butter.

“Drew, is it just me or is something a little off here?”

His eyebrows furrowed and the hand holding the spoonful of peanut butter stopped halfway to his mouth.

“What do you mean?”

Elaine thought for a few moments. “I mean—doesn’t it seem strange? Mom’s behavior or the house or…I don’t know. I feel like…” She sighed. “Never mind.”

Of course he wouldn’t pick up the same things she would. And it probably wasn’t a good idea to worry him with her suspicions.

Drew frowned.

“Okay, sis. Whatever you were talking about, I’m pretty sure the answer is no.” He sucked the peanut butter off of the spoon and stuck it back into the jar for another mouthful.

Elaine thought about the strange feeling she had been getting since she noticed it seemed her mother was trying to rid herself of every piece of her father as fast as possible. And the bits of conversation she had heard the previous night didn’t help; it made her think she had an accomplice—although she wasn’t a hundred per cent sure in what. Another man perhaps—a romantic interest.

It wasn’t so much what she’d heard, but the way she had seen her mother’s silhouette positioned as she spoke almost breathlessly into the phone.

“I can’t help but think that mom was behind dad’s death somehow,” Elaine blurted to Drew, surprising herself since she had just decided to keep her suspicions to herself.

Drew’s eyes went round and another spoonful of peanut butter didn’t make it to his mouth as soon as he had planned as he held it midair.

“Are you serious?” He placed the untouched mound of peanut butter back into the jar and put the jar down on the counter. She had his full attention.

“Okay, Elaine—I know you and mom haven’t had the greatest relationship but this is going too far.”

Elaine let out a breath again, then laughed shortly.

“I guess I just need something more than fate or Mother Nature to blame,” she said. “Forget what I said.”

She smiled, hoping it was a reassuring one.

***

Elaine looked at her watch. Was it really one a.m.? She breathed a deep sigh and rubbed her eyes, not wanting to look at the paper she’d been scribbling on for the past two hours.

She could not believe she was having trouble with this; she hardly struggled with anything. It seemed to be the easiest part of the whole thing so she had left it for last. And now, she felt like she was in school again, on those rare occasions she found herself struggling to finish a paper or schoolwork the night before it was due. What was so hard about a goddamned eulogy?

She couldn’t decide if she should go with a series of personal stories and anecdotes, or a single meaningful event. A generic “live life to the fullest” speech, or demonstrate how he fully lived his. Perhaps a mini-biography? Or a combination? Of the personal stories—which ones? How exactly did he live his life?

Elaine realized how little she actually knew about her father’s hopes and dreams, how little she knew of his personal feelings about his life and what he had done. Sure, she knew about his Thomas Gibson project—he was pretty proud about that—but she didn’t know if there were other dreams he had and if he had made them come true or if they died along with him. In any case, she was starting to realize how much was left to the people left behind to make up the realities of the departed one’s life, how much say they had in the memory of what a person was about, what they stood for, what they achieved, who they were. She realized that summarizing a person’s life was really like writing a paper; you put forth the thesis statement and you back it up. If there was a whole class of about thirty people working on one person’s eulogy, the result could very well be thirty different angles and perspectives, thirty different views of what that person’s life really meant and what that person boiled down to.

She looked down at one of her options for the opening line:

It has been said that the graveyard is the richest place on earth…

Her mind wandered off to settle on her own life. Would she be happy with the life she had lived if she were to somehow find out she would die tomorrow? She had always thought she’d done a good job of achieving goals—she did well in school, went on to college, law school, became a lawyer, got married, owned a home, had two kids, liked her job. That’s all there was to it right? She was living the American dream, the life most people aspired to. But sometimes she felt something was missing. Her children were the ones who reminded her of what it was every now and then. As simple as it was, she longed for it, but hardly allowed herself the time to realize she needed it: a long vacation. And not the ones she usually took where she took a few days or a week off from work and immersed herself in her daughters, her family. She needed a vacation for herself, by herself. Yes, even sans David. He had always been so reliable, so dependable, she had no choice but to take him for granted. She did not want to continue doing so—she wanted to treat him as he deserved to be treated, and in order to do that, she needed to miss him.

She had also always wanted to travel the world but had not quite given herself the chance. That, she could do with David, and at times, the whole family.

She shook off her thoughts and tried to refocus. This was about her father.

She thought about what he had picked up along the way on the road of life: he had a wife, two children, grandchildren, was able to buy his own home, get rid of his debt, and had enough in him left over to engage in a selfless yet fulfilling project. Surely there was not much more he could have wanted. As for finding meaning in life, surely he found it somewhere between raising his family, his jobs and his non-profit work. And he meant a lot to many people—the students he helped, his friends, her mother, her brother. People usually tried to find meaning in life by meaning something to others, right? And there, she was stuck. The eulogy as she had written it thus far was too clinical, too distant. She needed to add more sentiment and feeling to it.

And she needed to stretch her legs.

She went to the computer, got onto the internet and started looking around, hoping to find examples of what people usually wrote. She examined tips that popped up, and the eulogies she found written for regular people and for celebrities.

She eventually found herself getting bored with the format most of them seemed to take. But somehow, they worked. She looked at what she had written again and compared it to the others she had liked. She realized she needed to beef it up a little, and not just by adding words like she had been doing.

Her head nodded as her eyes closed.

Once she realized sleep was trying to attack her, she got up to make herself some coffee then decided against it. She just needed to stay up for about half an hour more anyway so she did some yoga stretches while running possibilities through her mind. She was determined to get this right.