Strange Man

1918
Natchez, Mississippi
Alice
is 17 years old.

I opened my eyes to a most surprising sight. Dr. Everton was at the foot of my cot, perched on the metal frame. He had my breakfast plate in one hand and a smirk on his face. It suddenly struck me how young he really was—though I remembered I had no idea exactly how young that might be. His professional and removed attitude had always served to stretch out the years between us. Also, he was missing his usual glasses that I now realized added to the illusion of age.

"Good morning Alice. I see you've finally deigned to awaken." He shifted his body so that he slid onto the bed.

"Dr. Everton, how old are you?" He snorted. "Come on, you know all sorts of personal medical information about me, but I don't even know your age.

"Fine. I'll be 64 years old in October." I laughed.

"Alright, fair enough."

"Now, enough of this nonsense. Don't you want your breakfast? Not that I would, if I were you, it looks quite unappetizing." He wrinkled his nose as he looked down at the plate in his hand. "Still, it's sustenance. Eat up."

I accepted the plate he handed me and consumed the bland food. Dr. Everton shuddered.

"How do you eat that stuff?"

"How do you feed this stuff to us?" I countered.

"Touché. Oh, but I brought you something else." He leaned sideways and pulled something out from under the bed.

My mouth dropped open when I set eyes on the contents of the tiny crate in his hand. Huge, succulent strawberries filled it to the brim.

"Oh my… Dr. Everton I haven't seen a strawberry in years." He grinned at my awe.

"I bought them fresh this morning in town. Consider it a peace offering of sorts. Also, considering that we've established that you don't have a medical condition, I think we can dispense with the formalities."

"Well, thank you… Alvis," I said, trying out the name. "Although I wasn't aware there was a war to be ended, I'm not about to dispute your terms." I eyed the strawberries lustily. He handed them over and I immediately bit in to the first fruit my hand touched. He watched with an amused expression as I closed my eyes in bliss, letting the cool juice fill my mouth.

"Perhaps war was the wrong word. But something new has irrefutably begun. And if our previous state was war, then I'd like it if this one could be something more like peace."

I only nodded in consent, my mind mostly focused on the sublime joy that is strawberries.

That day started a lovely precedent for those that would follow. I often awoke to find Alvis waiting for me. Or if he was not there in the morning, he almost always made an appearance at some point during the day. And with him he always brought some little treat, a hunk of salty cheese, a piece of chocolate, a handful of raisins. After a few weeks he even began bringing me alternate meals… very, very odd alternate meals. He seemed to be utterly without any sense of what foods went together and what things were appropriate for which meals. He brought me steak for breakfast and made me eggs for dinner. But it was his sandwiches that were truly bizarre. He employed the most unlikely combinations of ingredients. One day it was scrambled eggs and cream cheese with liberal amounts of cinnamon. Other days he went with a theme, bringing me sliced green apples, green olives, green salsa, and oregano on mercifully not green bread.

Still, his concoctions were always an improvement over my other options. And he was going to the trouble to make all this himself when he really didn't need to. So I tried my best to hide my amusement at his bizarre cooking preferences and instead focused on expressing my genuine gratitude.

We soon settled into a pleasant routine and for the first time I was actually enjoying myself at The Nat.


1919
Natchez, Mississippi
Alice
is 18 years old.

I awoke to an all too familiar confusion. An instant later I was overcome by fury. I had retained enough for that. My eyes were still closed and I was just a tiny bit afraid to open them. If he wasn't here, I was really going to be mad. Finally my curiosity won, and I opened my eyes.

I found him in his usual place, across from me on the bed railing.

"What the hell Alice?" I demanded. "No, that's my name. God damn!" His featured showed surprise, my language wasn't usually so crude. It soon melted into remorse, but that only proved to irritate me further.

"Perhaps you don't recall, but Dr. Bolivar did inform you that you would be continuing the treatments. And maybe this would be a good time to remind you that it is Dr. Bolivar, and not myself who has the final word on medical decisions concerning my patients."

I glared back silently. His face softened slightly.

"Look, Alice," he said, his voice pleading, "I know that you don't need these treatments, that they're not helping you. I know how much you hate them. But you have to understand that even though I know you are not crazy, the people in power don't. And if we told them the truth, the only thing it would accomplish would be making a nice spot for me in the cell next to yours. You have to know that I don't want to do this to you." I continued to stare dispassionately, but I was beginning to see his logic. And he had said the wonderful words I had only ever heard in my head: you are not crazy.

"Maybe," he stopped to think for a moment. "Maybe I could talk to Bolivar. Not the truth, obviously. And I doubt I could make any immediate change. But if I take I take it slow, reporting slight improvements… but then they'll level off." He nodded to himself as his plan began to form. "Yes, because the treatments aren't helping. So then I'll be all set up to suggest we take you off them. If I do it well enough, he might even suggest it himself."

I gave him a slight smile. "Okay, Alvis."


Despite all Alvis' grace and beauty, there was an odd undercurrent of awkwardness that occasionally surfaced. The easiest example would be his peculiar food selections. But there were other things as well. Although he was a master of impersonal relations, he sometimes seemed unsure how to act around me. Though maybe one could put that down to the fact I don't think either of us exactly knew the nature of our relationship that had so suddenly veered from professional to something along the lines of friendship.

I wondered what he did in his time off, in the evenings. I knew he frequently went into town to procure the ingredients for his latest disaster, but I had never bothered to ask if he was accompanied on these trips. Were there companions he visited? A lady friend he took out to dinner afterwards? Or was he, perhaps, just as alone as me?

It seemed a reasonable explanation for his occasionally strange mannerisms. He usually remembered to give some sort of perfunctory greeting when he came in, but occasionally he just jumped ahead to some topic and it always threw me off. Today was one of those days, where his mind was already miles ahead of him and he had no time to bother with pleasantries if he intended to catch up.

"What are you going to do when you get out of here?" The words tumbled out at an alarming speed and the sentence was finished before the door shut behind him. He ambled over and plopped down next to me on the bed.

"Hello to you too," I replied icily. I disliked when he did this. He always seemed disappointed with me; he had already had time to get himself thoroughly caught up in his eagerness, but he didn't seem to comprehend that mine would take time to get some momentum going and that I wouldn't just be raring to go the minute he was. I always felt seven steps behind him whenever this happened, and instead of stopping to wait for me to catch up, he kept leaping ahead, too excited to stop for a moment… leaving me to be dragged toward some goal only visible inside his head.

"Where would you go?" His determination was unbreakable, I might as well not even try to resist. So I let out a sigh and answered.

"Biloxi, of course. That's the only place I have to go. Why are asking me this?" He shrugged his shoulders, looking downright boyish for a fleeting moment.

"Just curious. I realized I didn't know. But what if you couldn't go to Biloxi, what would you do then?" What kind of question was that?

"Of course I would be able to go to Biloxi. Why wouldn't I? My parents would think I was cured, and I'm sure I have enough control now to hide it. They would welcome me with open arms."

"But just for the sake of conversation, what if you couldn't?" I really didn't see where he was going with this.

"That's stupid. There's no reason I couldn't?" But now he was really getting annoyed with me.

"Damn Alice, it's just a hypothetical situation. Why are you being so difficult? What if you got to Biloxi and you found that everyone you knew was dead? Okay, there's a reason for you. Now don't look at me like that. They're not dead, hypothetical situation, like I said."

"Sorry, I just don't see how it's relevant to anything. But since you're so curious, I guess I'd have to go to Natchez and find some work, considering I don't have any money and wouldn't be able to buy a train ticket. Or, I don't know. Where do you live? Maybe you'd let me stay with you. At least until I got a job and somewhere to stay." Though considering his previous anger, I wondered if that was even an option. "Or if you wouldn't, I could try to find a boarding house or something and promise to pay them as soon as I got the money. Or I could offer to clean and cook for some family and hope they'd let me stay in an extra room. I'd like to go back to school, but I probably wouldn't be able to for a while. But some day I would, as soon as I saved up enough money." I purposefully provided as detailed and long a response as I could, in the hopes that it would placate him at least a little.

His expression changed immediately. That was another of those odd things; his mood shifted much more abruptly than anyone I had ever met. One minute he was getting increasingly more frustrated with me, and the next his features softened and he looked almost sad. There was something pitying in his eyes. He reached one hand across the bed to where I was sitting cross-legged and gently patted my ankle. His touch was startlingly cool.

"Alice, I'm sorry. I'm easily frustrated; I really didn't mean to get angry with you. And I insist that if you ever find yourself without a place to hang your hat you come stay with me." His remorse was sincere and I found it hard not to forgive him. I laid my much smaller hand upon his larger one, still resting on my ankle, taking it in mine and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He cracked a wide grin.

"I hope that means I'm forgiven. I wouldn't want to loose you as my friend." And so in that moment, our unsure relationship was defined for the first time. Alvis was my friend, and the only one I had left. I would have to take better care to hold on to him. For his question had me realize that, other than my family, I had no one I could turn to in case of disaster.


It was around late June and I was worried Alvis wouldn't come today. The night before had been one of our biggest arguments yet, and despite how mad I had been, I desperately hoped he would not ignore me. Such thoughts occupied me for most the day, but after dinner there was a knock on my door and I was flooded with relief… and then confusion as sunlight lit up the face of the man who entered.

For it was not Alvis, but a short, blonde goon. "The doctor would like to see you in his office." I followed silently, my mind racing. In his office? I hadn't been to Alvis' office in months. I had almost forgotten that he even had an office and that I was once someone he would send for to meet him there. My apprehension grew as we made our way down the linoleum hallway.

Alvis was sitting with his feet up on his desk and a crooked smile on his face. "Hello Alice, do take a seat. Or actually don't, as I'll be wanting you to get back up in a moment."

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, Doctor."

"Well, two things. First off, I realized something. You're tiny." I laughed. He really was a strange man.

"Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"Oh don't be sullen. I just realized you've barely grown since you came here, and I was wondering how tall you are anyways. Besides, you might have some sort of height deficiency, and it is my job, as your doctor, to keep an eye out for such things." He grabbed my hand and dragged me into the back room. Obligingly I stepped on the scale and waited as he adjusted the metal bar so that it rested on the top of my ahead. I then scooted aside without being told.

"Goodness, you're only four feet ten inches. You know, you were four feet nine and one half inches when you arrived here. In four years you've only grown half an inch. That's ridiculous."

"Well, I appreciate you rubbing it in," I grumbled.

"I wonder why that is," he mused, ignoring my previous comment altogether.

"I dunno. It could have something to do with multitude of times I had strong currents of electricity run through my body by clueless doctors."

"I suppose. But I've never heard of shock therapy having that effect. Still, anything's possible." He sounded almost cheerful.

"I hope you realize how not reassuring that is to hear from a doctor." He shrugged his shoulders. "So what was the second thing?"

He inhaled deeply and I immediately realized that this was the main act, everything that had come before it, this whole business of my height had been nothing but stalling. "I wanted to show you something." He beckoned with his hand and I followed him back into the main room of his office.

"Well, what is it?" I sensed he could use some prodding.

"Right. Well, I'm not sure if you remember, but there was a conversation we had quite a few months ago. I lost my cool with you a bit. I was just trying to gauge your reaction to something without letting you actually know what it was. Only afterwards did I realize that perhaps it wasn't the best idea."

He was rambling and I still had no idea what he was talking about. But I could tell this was a subject that was somehow difficult for him to talk about, so I exercised self-restraint and kept quiet. If I let him talk long enough he would probably get to the point, but if I interrupted him he might loose his nerve and never tell me.

"Do you remember me asking you what you would do after you left The Nat?" That conversation? I nodded and looked up at him expectantly. He had peaked my curiosity. "Well… what if it wasn't just a hypothetical situation? What if you really couldn't go back to Biloxi, not ever?" I felt a sharp intake of breath fill my lungs and panic twist in my stomach.

"What do you… oh god, they aren't actually dead are they? No no, you couldn't… that would be far too cruel." Alvis looked alarmed and quickly placed his thin, pale fingers on my shoulders and bent his knees significantly until we were eyelevel. I stared into those infinite black depths, seeking some shred of reassurance.

"Alice, Alice, calm down. No one's dead. Well…"

"Well what?" I demanded, terrified by the hint of a qualification to his previous statement.

"Really, your family is fine. Otto is fine. Everyone in Biloxi is fine." I let out a sigh of relief.

"But then, I don't understand." He made a noise of frustration.

"Maybe it would be better if I just let you see the article." He unlocked one of the drawers in his filing cabinet, the one I knew to be mine, and shuffled through papers for a moment before removing a wrinkled newspaper, yellowed with age. He placed it down on the desk and turned it towards me so I could read it. I glanced at the top and gasped in recognition. I saw in bold, curling letters the words "BiloxiDaily Press", the daily newspaper of my home town.

Alvis unfolded the paper, searching for something. About halfway in, he found whatever it was and refolded the newspaper, setting it down in front of me. He pointed to a headline that read "Brandon Family Grieves". I glared at him. He had promised that everyone was okay. But then what…? I temporarily squashed aside my questions and set my eyes on the article.

As my eyes made their way further down the faded page, I felt all the little pieces slowly falling into place; the questions, the qualification, the desire to keep this from me. Suddenly it all made sense. I hadn't noted the date of the paper at first, but after I was finished I consulted the top of the page to confirm what I already suspected. This newspaper was from 1915, the year I was committed to The Nat.

As for the article, it detailed the unexpected death of the eldest Brandon daughter.

So it would seem Alvis was right. I could never return to Biloxi. Someone was dead. Me.

He reached over and patted my head. "You know, my offer still stands. If you don't have a place to go when they sign the release papers, then there will be an empty bed waiting for you." Finally I realized the significance of his offer now that this was the most likely outcome.

"Thank you, Alvis," I said with as much sincerity as I could muster. "But I have to wonder… you took such care not to bring it up all those months ago, so why the sudden change of heart?"

"Well, Dr. Bolivar just approved my suggestion that you be taken off the ECT." I would have thought it impossible to smile, considering the betrayal I had just uncovered, yet somehow I felt the corners of my lips twitch. "It could still be months, or more likely years until you're released. But I knew this would be the beginning of hope. I couldn't let you start making plans for a future that could never exist."


A/N— sorry for the delay on this chapter. Partly, it is because I was away, and partly because I was trying to wait until the alerts were working…but I got too impatient for that and put it up anyways. But..you'll be excited to know that I've already begun the next chapter (only a page or so, but it's still something).

I'll mention also that change is in the air

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