The Evolution of Alice (25 page)

Gideon called to Jayne, who came running.

“Didja like it?” she said, hopping up and down in anticipation.

“I love it,” Alice said and then pointed at the man. “But, who is this right here? Is this the angel you girls met?”

“No,” Jayne said to her mother.

“Who is it then? Your daddy?” Gideon said.

“No,” Jayne said. “It’s you, silly.”

Alice watched as Jayne threw her arms around Gideon, and he picked her up and twirled her around, squeezing her as tight as he dared. When he placed her down, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek before darting off to return to her game with Kathy. He was left smiling wide with pink cheeks. When he looked over at Alice, she handed him the picture.

“The girls need you,” she said.

Gideon looked at the picture carefully, and his smile didn’t fade. That’s when Alice realized that it wasn’t just the girls who needed him. She did too.

“You can keep the picture,” she said.

“Yeah?” Gideon said.

“I don’t think Jayne would mind,” Alice said. “I don’t mind.”

Gideon nodded. He folded up the picture and slid it into his pocket.

“You know, maybe I can stay for a little bit,” he said.

From the truck at the side of the highway, Alice called out to her girls.

“Darlings, why don’t you go play around back.”

“In the field?” Kathy said.

“Yes,” she said. “In the field.”

They screeched in delight and disappeared behind the trailer. Alice and Gideon walked in that direction. They navigated their way through all the toys in the driveway and went around back, ending up at the tire swing. Alice got on and Gideon stood by her side. She held the yellow twine tightly in her hands and began to pump her legs.

On the day that Kathy couldn’t sleep, the sun was setting reluctantly, splashing red and yellow and orange across the horizon and painting the walls of the girls’ bedroom. Kathy always liked how the sunset cast colours against her walls, when it came in clear like it did tonight, when the Dora blanket on the bedroom window was pushed over to the side. She thought it was pretty how the colours moved like liquid against the walls as though she were inside a lava lamp. She’d been watching the light for a good while now and didn’t want it to leave. She didn’t want the night to come, or the sun to set. She knew it was only a matter of time, however, and that made her sad, and she started to cry. At that moment, Alice walked by on the way to her own bedroom. She stopped at the girls’ bedroom door.

“Kathy, is that you? Are you awake?” Alice said.

“I can’t sleep,” she said.

Alice walked over to Kathy and Jayne’s mattress, which rested in the middle of the bedroom. She sat down at Kathy’s side and wiped some tears away from her cheek. Jayne groaned and rolled over on her side. She never had much trouble sleeping, that one. Not so long as there was a warm body for her to cuddle against.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Alice said.

Kathy hesitated only for a moment. She took her mother’s hand.

“Are you afraid of dying?” Kathy said.

Alice squeezed her hand.

“Sure I am. Of course I am, sometimes,” Alice said.

Kathy looked away from her mother, to the bedroom walls. The colours were still moving across her walls like flames. They were dimmer now, though. They weren’t as vibrant as they were even a few minutes ago. The sun would be gone soon.

“Am I going to die?’ Kathy said.

Alice sighed. She squeezed Kathy’s hand even tighter.

“One day you’ll die. One day everybody on this earth will die,” Alice said.

Kathy cried some more. Alice wiped away more tears.

“Why?” Kathy said.

“I don’t know, honey,” Alice said. “I don’t know the answer to that. It’s just the way things are. At least we’re all in the same boat. I feel good about that sometimes.”

The room had grown much darker by now. The red and yellow and orange had been painted over by grey and black.

“Do you think you can sleep? Do you want me to stay?” Alice said.

Kathy pulled at her mother’s hand. Alice lay down beside her. She took Kathy into her arms and covered her like a blanket. Kathy opened her eyes and closed her eyes and saw the same thing either way.

“Mommy, will I wake up tomorrow?” Kathy said.

“Yes,” Alice said. “That’s one thing I know for sure.”

Throughout the process of writing
The Evolution of Alice
, many people have helped me, inspired me, and supported me.

Warren Cariou was there right from the beginning, when
Alice
was just one short story. Warren has been much more than an editor to me. He’s been a friend, a mentor, a sounding board, and a fan. I’m a better writer because of him.

Penny Thomas’s incredible and haunting stories served as inspiration for some of the (perhaps) supernatural events in the novel. And whenever I asked if she had more ghost stories, she usually did.

My wife, Jill, gave me time to work on this novel. She’s my best friend and greatest supporter. And my children have always inspired me to create a better world through my writing.

Cam, Mike, and Dad have provided lifelong support, but it was my mom’s unwavering belief in me that often kept me believing in myself. I still remember, at eight, telling her that I was going to write a book one day; she never told me otherwise.

My publisher, Highwater Press, always supports my work and is like a second family to me.

Thanks also to the Manitoba Arts Council for their support.

Finally, I want to acknowledge the First Nations community that served as the inspiration for this novel. It is a place of beauty, where one person is tied to another, one family is tied to another, and they celebrate together and they grieve together, and I wish we were all like that, because nothing should ever happen in a vacuum. Not writing or anything else.

David Alexander Robertson is the creator of several graphic novels, including his newest series, Tales from Big Spirit, as well as the bestselling 7 Generations series. He was a contributor to the anthology
Manitowapow: Aboriginal Writings from the Land of Water
(2012) and is co-creator and writer for the upcoming television series
The Reckoner.
David lives in Winnipeg with his family, where he works in the field of indigenous education.