CHAPTER FOUR: RESOLUTION

CHAPTER FOUR: RESOLUTION

It's so black and dark and then suddenly it's bright white. When I open my eyes I'm confused and lost and Alice is gone and everything is white. I look for the blood, all the blood, but that's gone too, my stomach bound with a clean white cloth. Only then, staring down at my bare chest and the white bandage and the white sheets, do I realize I'm in a hospital. Which means I'm alive.

I try to sit up to get a better look around but my head throbs and I feel really dizzy. I guess I moan a little as I fall back onto my pillow, because suddenly this nurse turns around and sees me.

"Ah, you're awake!" she says cheerily, fixing something onto my arm and messing with little dials in a way my aching head doesn't even try to figure out.

"How long I been heah?" I ask, the room finally ceasing to spin and starting to hold still like a room should.

"Almost three days now," the nurse informs me, taking the thing off my arm. "Your sister has been worried to death. She'll be very glad to know you're awake."

"My sistah?" I echo dumbly, as the nurse crosses to the other side of the room with the arm-thingy. I have a sister? I wonder silently, blinking and trying to get my mind around that fact. Jeez, I must have been hit pretty hard to forget something like that.

"Yes, she's been asking after you constantly. And all your friends as well, but only family allowed in this wing. She's probably in the hallway even now, shall I send her in?"

"Uh, yeah, go ahead," I say, leaning back into the pillows and still trying to remember who my sister is.

A minute later, she enters. Alice, of course, I recognize immediately—though there's something different about her. Maybe it's the new clothes? But I don't get a chance to examine her because the second the nurse opens the door, Alice runs in and practically flies over to me.

"Skittery! You're okay!" she cries rapturously. Boy, a reaction like that really makes a guy glad to be alive. I grin, then wince as my bruised face aches. "Oh! But look at you!" Alice says, noticing the bandage around my entire midsection, reaching out like she's going to touch it but drawing her hand back. I'm suddenly very conscious that I'm shirtless. Where's a guy's pink undershirt when he needs it, right?

"Just a scratch," I tell her bravely, and force a little smile. Ow. Again.

"Oh, Skit, I was so worried about you," she says, sitting down in the chair beside the bed and getting her old-woman look as she takes my hand. "You was bleeding and I couldn't stop it and I didn't know what ta do…" She trails off and her eyes look dangerously watery.

"But I'm alright now," I say hurriedly.

"Yeah, you are," she says, giving me a wavering smile and blinking fast to try to make the tears dissipate.

"But what's different about you?" I ask, deliberately changing the subject, and trying to get a better look at her. She definitely has some new clothes, a little white blouse and a skirt and a sash tied around her waist—wait, it's the waist. Alice suddenly has a waist. For over a month now I've been seeing her with a giant bulging belly and now it's gone and I didn't even notice.

"Oh my God, Alice," is all I can say. "Oh my God, da baby?"

The tears disappear as fast as they came, and suddenly Alice is all proud mother, biting her lip to keep her grin from splitting her face in half.

"Oh my God, da baby?" I just keep saying, practically shouting. "Alice, you didn't say, you didn't say nothing, wow, is it—when—is this—" I am completely inarticulate.

"It's a boy," she says, beaming at me, "an' he's absolutely beautiful an' healthy an' poifect. He was born da very morning aftah we brought you here. Oh, Skit, I wanted you ta meet him right away, but dey won't let me bring a baby in heah. As soon as you're out you gotta see 'im, Skit, he's da most beautiful baby you ever saw, an' he's sweet an' quiet an' so small, you wouldn't b'lieve how small he is, Skit. So small an' beautiful an'…" Apparently words couldn't do him justice, for she just heaves a sigh and keeps this dopey smile on her face. She looks down at me and giggles, squeezing my hand. "Can ya believe I'm so in love wit someone I just met two days ago? God, nobody tol' me dat you loved 'em so much right when ya saw 'em. An' ta think, Skit, I almost thought about giving him away!" That is obviously now completely out of the question. So making all those little, whatchacallems, booties, wasn't for nothing.

"What's 'is name?" I ask, interested.

"Oh, I ain't thought of anything yet," she admits. "'Cause John always said if it was a boy we'd name it after him, but…" She breaks off, and drops her eyes, then looks back up at me. Oh God, in all the excitement I'd forgotten—blocked from my mind—the image of the body on the floor. The question gets stuck in my stomach before it even makes it up to my throat. But Alice will be honest with me and I have to know, so I force it out.

"John's… I, uh, I killed 'im, didn't I?"

Alice doesn't drop my hand or look away, and I'm very grateful for that. She looks me right in the eye and tells me. I wince and turn away from her to stare at the ceiling. I suddenly have a lot on my mind.

"But Skittery, it's, it's okay," she starts to say, and I turn toward her with an incredulous look and she hurries to finish, "I mean, it ain't okay, a course it ain't okay, but…" She exhales very loudly and stares down at her hand that's still holding mine. Her thumb rubs against my hand as she speaks. "I mean dat…Dat, uh…" I can tell she's having a hard time choosing her words, and she lets the last part out in a rush. "Dat I'm not gonna really miss him very much."

She looks up at me with those big watery eyes again, and I feel like she's asking for my approval. "Dat's an awful t'ing ta say, huh?" she asks, her voice trembling.

I squeeze her hand in a way that I hope is comforting and this time it's me that has a hard time choosing the words. I clear my throat. "I think, Alice, dat undah da circumstances, dat's really not a bad t'ing to say at all."

Another flickering smile and more fast blinking, but this time a single tear trickles down the side of her nose. "Oh, Skittery," she breathes, and I get the feeling that for once I said just the right thing. She drops my hand and wipes the tear away. "The only thing… the only thing was dat, with John around, things was gonna be easier for da baby…" Another tear drops down, and another. "John was gonna marry me, he always said, and da baby was gonna have a real dad, legal and everything, and nobody was gonna hafta know…" Her shoulders start to shake and I can no longer count the tears. "It was all gonna be right, Skittery, for da baby." Her tone suddenly turns fierce. "Nobody was gonna call my baby names, or spit on 'im, or, or, tell him he wadn't as good as nobody else's baby…" And I have to watch in horror as she starts to sob, sob so hard she can't talk.

"Alice… no…" I try to reach for her hand again but she's covering her face, crying into her hands and rocking on the chair. I even look around frantically for the nurse but she's been gone the whole time. Every time Alice wails I feel like something's tearing inside of me, and it's a thousand times more painful than the knife ripping my flesh. I'm so desperate to make her cries stop, I blurt out the first solution that comes to mind.

"I'd marry you, Alice."

Her crying cuts off abruptly, and she pulls her hands away from her face to look at me in surprise. Surprise, or disbelief, or maybe amusement really, I can't tell, but I'm not trying to be funny. She just stares at me for what feels like an eternity, and all I can think is, "Well, at least she's not crying." Finally she says something.

"Was dat a proposal, Skittery?"

I hurry to clarify, propping myself up on my elbow, but I'm really just as confused and surprised as she is. "Oh, no, no, not like—I mean yeah, yeah it is. I'm asking you ta marry me, Alice."

She makes a little sound like she's trying to get her throat to work and I know how she feels. She starts to say something but then seems to reconsider, and her brow furrows as she looks at me. "Skittery… are you asking me as a friend who hates to see me cry or because... because you really want me ta marry you?"

Damn, she knows me too well. I'm forced to consider the question myself. My side starts to ache so I awkwardly readjust my position. Then I look right at her as I admit the truth. "I dunno. Both, I guess."

Alice leans forward and hugs me, sort of forcing me back onto the pillow. Her elbow is sort of digging into my wound and I groan a little but she doesn't hear. "Oh, Skittery, that's so sweet," she's saying, and I have to almost laugh at that because 'sweet' isn't the word most people would choose to describe me. I spit some of her hair out of my mouth and then gently push her off of me, relaxing a little as my injury is left to throb in peace.

She's sort of leaning over me, her hair loose and dangling down to drag on my chest. Suddenly, I'm not just confused, I'm nervous too. My mouth goes dry and I lick my lips. "Does that mean, uh, is dat a yes?"

After a second that seems to last forever, Alice's face breaks into a warm smile. "Yeah," she says, "yeah, dat's a yes."

And she leans forward to kiss my forehead, her hair brushing my chest and tickling me. But I stop her, reaching up and taking her chin in my hands. She glances down at me questioningly and my heart is pounding really hard, but I guide her face toward mine and our lips meet in a soft kiss. And I smile into her lips, because I can't help thinking, "We really shoulda done dis a long time ago."

© Princess MacEaver, 2001

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