Read Online The Evolution of Alice by David Alexander Robertson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Alexander Robertson
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thoughts up in her head, unpleasant ones and all that, ones she’d rather not be thinking. The only problem I saw with watching a stupid show like the one she was watching was it didn’t require much thinking so it couldn’t have been much of a distraction. She woulda been better off watching one of those crime shows I liked. At least those made you use your brain from time to time.
I went over to sit beside her for a little bit, even though I knew there wasn’t much going to come of it. We’d developed a routine, Alice and me. I’d say a bunch of things to her, she wouldn’t really answer, and then I’d leave her be and go off and hang out with Kathy and Jayne. Those two said lots of things. I didn’t hold nothin’ against Alice, of course, because Grace’s death was still pretty recent and she was dealing with stuff the way she had to deal with stuff. The girls, they were dealing with stuff too, but while Alice was pushing everyone and everything away, the girls were keeping things real close to them, and they sure did love their Uncle Gideon those days. And as terrible as the reasons were for that, I kind of liked being needed like that. Maybe I needed to keep things close, too, because I sure did love little Grace, and the closer I kept Kathy and Jayne to me the less guilty I felt about flaking out on Alice the night Grace died. Yeah, Grace was a boulder for me too, that was for sure.
First thing I noticed when I sat down was a cigarette on the coffee table in front of the couch, resting on a piece of aluminum foil shaped like an ashtray. She’d already sucked half of it back, and I watched the smoke rise from it for a few seconds, appreciating how smoke from a cigarette was maybe the only thing pretty about smoking, how it kinda danced and curled in the air. I didn’t know what to think about Alice smoking, because it wasn’t something I’d ever seen her do. That’s probably why I never said anything for a little bit—I was processing and all that. Eventually, though, I tore my eyes away from the cigarette and gave Alice a careful little touch on the arm. I was always careful when I touched her lately, like if I touched her too hard she would just break into pieces.
“How’re you doing today, Al?”
She glanced over at me quick, nodded, and she reached down and took a big drag of that cigarette like she wanted me to notice what she was doing. Maybe it was a cry for help, I don’t know. I took it like that anyway.
“When’d you start doing that anyway?” I said, pointing at the cigarette as if she didn’t know what I was talking about.
She shrugged and then smothered it into the aluminum foil. I waved my hand in the air to push the smoke away. I never liked smoking, me. Got disgusted by the smell of it. For a moment, I wished I’d found Alice out on her tire swing in the back yard because some fresh air woulda been good right about then. I could see why she wasn’t out there all that often any more, though. Being out there, watching on her girls, probably made her think too much of Grace, and how Grace wasn’t playing in the field with her sisters. Alice reached over to her right side and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, which was half full, and took another one out. Menthol, they were. Funny. I had a friend who smoked those things when she had colds because she said it cleared her sinuses. Alice stuck it in her mouth and offered me one, but I shook my head. She shrugged again and lit her cigarette, taking another long tug at it before placing it back on her ashtray.
“You know, that ain’t good for your girls,” I said, and what I said surprised me, because I never butted into anything Alice did in the way of parenting. But I couldn’t help it. That smoke, it got into everything. It danced up to the ceiling and then spread every which way, for sure into the girls’ room, and that meant they were sucking it in too.
“They’re fine,” Alice said.
“Why don’t you let me take
I went over to sit beside her for a little bit, even though I knew there wasn’t much going to come of it. We’d developed a routine, Alice and me. I’d say a bunch of things to her, she wouldn’t really answer, and then I’d leave her be and go off and hang out with Kathy and Jayne. Those two said lots of things. I didn’t hold nothin’ against Alice, of course, because Grace’s death was still pretty recent and she was dealing with stuff the way she had to deal with stuff. The girls, they were dealing with stuff too, but while Alice was pushing everyone and everything away, the girls were keeping things real close to them, and they sure did love their Uncle Gideon those days. And as terrible as the reasons were for that, I kind of liked being needed like that. Maybe I needed to keep things close, too, because I sure did love little Grace, and the closer I kept Kathy and Jayne to me the less guilty I felt about flaking out on Alice the night Grace died. Yeah, Grace was a boulder for me too, that was for sure.
First thing I noticed when I sat down was a cigarette on the coffee table in front of the couch, resting on a piece of aluminum foil shaped like an ashtray. She’d already sucked half of it back, and I watched the smoke rise from it for a few seconds, appreciating how smoke from a cigarette was maybe the only thing pretty about smoking, how it kinda danced and curled in the air. I didn’t know what to think about Alice smoking, because it wasn’t something I’d ever seen her do. That’s probably why I never said anything for a little bit—I was processing and all that. Eventually, though, I tore my eyes away from the cigarette and gave Alice a careful little touch on the arm. I was always careful when I touched her lately, like if I touched her too hard she would just break into pieces.
“How’re you doing today, Al?”
She glanced over at me quick, nodded, and she reached down and took a big drag of that cigarette like she wanted me to notice what she was doing. Maybe it was a cry for help, I don’t know. I took it like that anyway.
“When’d you start doing that anyway?” I said, pointing at the cigarette as if she didn’t know what I was talking about.
She shrugged and then smothered it into the aluminum foil. I waved my hand in the air to push the smoke away. I never liked smoking, me. Got disgusted by the smell of it. For a moment, I wished I’d found Alice out on her tire swing in the back yard because some fresh air woulda been good right about then. I could see why she wasn’t out there all that often any more, though. Being out there, watching on her girls, probably made her think too much of Grace, and how Grace wasn’t playing in the field with her sisters. Alice reached over to her right side and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, which was half full, and took another one out. Menthol, they were. Funny. I had a friend who smoked those things when she had colds because she said it cleared her sinuses. Alice stuck it in her mouth and offered me one, but I shook my head. She shrugged again and lit her cigarette, taking another long tug at it before placing it back on her ashtray.
“You know, that ain’t good for your girls,” I said, and what I said surprised me, because I never butted into anything Alice did in the way of parenting. But I couldn’t help it. That smoke, it got into everything. It danced up to the ceiling and then spread every which way, for sure into the girls’ room, and that meant they were sucking it in too.
“They’re fine,” Alice said.
“Why don’t you let me take
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