Alice
closed the small black journal in her lap, and then tucked her pen onto the
front cover. For a moment she sat there, trying to steady her weary breaths.
But it was hard to keep from shaking when her arm was burning in excruciating
pain.
“I can do this, I am
used to it,” she reminded herself through clenched teeth, as she picked up the
bandage that lay next to her leg. Slowly she began winding the white cloth
around the shallow cut on her left arm.
She had cut countless times before; and though she had
gotten used to the knife’s sharp blade, the burning afterwards was something
she couldn’t get used to. But perhaps not getting used to it was good. Perhaps
it was the thing which reminded her most that she was still alive.
After binding her arm, she pulled her coat’s sleeve down,
hiding any sign that she was a cutter. Then, wiping the tears from her face, she
pulled from her bag, a pale mask that fit perfectly over her eyes and nose. The
only odd thing any normal person would notice was the content smile plastered
across the mask’s lips that gave off an eerie look.
But this mask was her life; her one dependency.
Pulling the mask on, Alice
forced a smile as the mask blended into her face.
Grabbing onto the short wall on the edge of the bridge she
sat on, Alice
heaved herself to her feet. The bridge was lit by street lamps, and as she
looked into the water, she could see her reflection. But instead of seeing the
mask she had put on, she saw her own face. A sweet smile chased every bit of a
frown away, the dark circles around her eyes had entirely vanished, along with
any sign that she had been crying.
Now she looked happy and innocent like the other girls in
the South End. That mask was a life saver. It had been for months on end, and
kept everyone from knowing the pain inside. It kept things in order; just how
they needed to be.
Without another moment to waste, Alice grabbed her bag and slung it over her
shoulder. Tucking her red side bangs behind her ear, she walked off the bridge
and into the city. Though it was dark and people had long gone to their homes
for the evening, the streetlamps hanging from the windows of the buildings in
the narrow streets made the city seem alive. The flickers of flames inside the
electric lamps were the only signs of night life in the South End, unlike the East End where people were up around the clock.
As Alice
walked silently through the narrow buildings she listened to the sounds of
people behind closed doors. So many voices. So many emotions. Laughter. Joy.
Anger. Sadness. Despair.
For a moment as she listened she would catch herself
thinking that no one should feel upset or hurt. Then she’d remind herself that
after all, it was a dark and cruel world they lived in. Getting hurt was just
part of life.
Sometimes she wished the walls and doors of the city weren’t
so thin, she wished she couldn’t hear anyone but herself. She wished she could
just block it all out. Life would be so much easier that way. Finally she came
to her father’s inn, the sign above the door read, ‘The White Horse Inn’
creaked in the gentle wind.
People rushed in and out, laughing and talking as if they
were having the time of their life. Her family never let a customer leave with
a frown on his face it seemed. Perhaps it was her father and sister’s friendly
attitude that made customers always return. They made people feel at home and
welcomed. ‘If only the Small family had
the same view in their own personal lives as to the customers’, Alice often
thought. Rarely did the family feel like a home, and often did Alice wonder how it must be to come as a
customer.
Slipping her way into the warm inn, she closed the door
against the cold outside air. There were people everywhere; though most already
seated at the long, wooden tables across the room, there were still some people
waiting by the door. Spotting the other red head scrambling about the room,
dropping off bowls of steaming soup to different tables, Alice quickly made her way into the kitchen.
The less interaction she had with her flawless sister, the better off she would
be.
Walking into the swinging doors to that led to the kitchen, Alice entered into the
real chaos. Her mother stood above a boiling pot of stew, the steam rising up
as if there were a miniature fire inside. A small boy stood on a stood near her
holding a frying pain full of strips of bacon sizzling and popping in the
grease.
“Liam! Put the pan back on the burner!” her mother snapped,
trying unsuccessfully to bat his hands off the handle.
Seeing Alice enter, Hazel
Small pointed at her son, “Alice,
help me. Just get him away and come help me with this food.”
Alice
couldn’t help but smile at the chaotic scene. Just the kind of panic only her
little brother could put their mother in. Putting her satchel on the coat
hanger in the corner of the kitchen Alice
went over and swept up Liam in both arms.
“But—but—I was helping! Mummy said I could help!” the little
boy protested.
Alice
smiled, “And you’ll do enough help by sitting quietly at the table, and out of
the way. No cooking tonight, Liam. It’s too busy right now.” She said, putting
him on a chair by the table.
Alice
tried smoothing his red, untidy hair down and continued gently, “Don’t be
angry. One day you’ll be able to help. But for now you must wait for a slow
night, okay? It takes time to learn everything.”
Liam frowned and then looked down at his hands, “I guess
so….” He mumbled, “But I want to help…”
“Next time—“Alice began but
was interrupted by her mother’s impatient voice, “Alice! I need you!”
Turning around, Alice
walked over to the big stove where there was a different kind of food to cover
every burner.
“What do you want me to do?” Alice asked.
“Help me fill these orders,” Hazel replied, waving her hand
at the mass of papers on the counter, in front of them.
“Sure they don’t need help in the front? They looked pretty
busy.” Alice
mentioned, turning down the stove a notch.
“Your father and sister can handle it. It’s best that they
are the face of this inn.” Her mother replied hastily, taking a moment to brush
her stray hair out of her sweaty face.
“Ah…” Alice
replied quietly, picking up a spatula and flipping the bacon.
Oh course, who would want her face or her mother’s to represent
their inn? Neither of them had the right bright look or personality for it.
Business would drop and no one would come. There was more than one reason that
the kitchen was hidden in the Small family’s inn.
At that moment Amelia burst in, her emerald green eyes
questioning, “Well you’re late,” she remarked.
Alice
shrugged, not turning to her sister.
“Where were you? We needed you here.” Amelia demanded.
“Does it matter where I was? You should be happy I came at
all. Why would I want to come when I’ll have to work with a nagging sister like
you?” Alice
snapped, shooting a sour glare at her sister.
“Don’t give me that look! What were you doing? Answer me.”
Amelia demanded putting her hands on her hips.
“Not with that attitude. Don’t you have tables?” Alice snapped.
“Are you afraid? Or embarrassed? What other reason would
there be for you not to tell us where you’ve been?” Amelia asked, flipping her
long hair over her shoulder.
“Just answer your sister, Alice, I’m tired of your pointless
bickering when there are tables that need to be served.” Their mother
commanded.
“I was with a friend,” Alice
stifled a lie.
“Who?” Amelia asked.
“Jade.”
“Now that that’s over, you,” Their mother pointed to Amelia,
“Go see to your tables,” and then she looked at Alice, “And you just work on filling these
orders with me.”
“What about me?” Liam called from the other side of the
room.
“You sit there like a good boy and stay put.” Their mother
replied, wagging a spoon in her hand at him.
Liam grumbled; words too low for Alice to understand.
As they filled the orders, Alice looked out the kitchen window, at the
people eating and her eyes fell upon her sister who was served the tables. She
was a faultless human being; long legs and arms, the flawless pale skin, the
perfect body, and clear bright eyes. Happy and smiley; no wonder she’d been
honored to be the face of the inn with their father; everyone loved her. She
was the favorite in the family; even mother always sided with her. No matter
how blunt Amelia’s and Alice’s arguments were, her mother would never call
Amelia off. Amelia could do no wrong.
Alice
was sure there were people who came in just
to see her, who weren’t just close friends. It was a puzzle to why she didn’t
have a boyfriend yet. Of course she had guys lining up but she didn’t display
much interest in them at all. She was too good for them.
She was the perfect girl. Beautiful. Sweet. Loveable. Smart.
It was hard not to be jealous when she was in the spotlight and everyone else
was simply a shadow.
Alice
shook her head. What was the point of thinking about it? It wasn’t doing her
any good.
It was not until a few hours later when the evening rush had
died down and her family could finally take a seat in the dining room, free
from stress or worry. Alice
walked into the room, cupping a warm bowl of stew in her hands. Her mother and
sister were cleaning the kitchen, but Alice
had been called to watch her brother in the dining room.
There were only three men at the end of one table. The two
sitting side by side on the left wore their coats still, as if ready to leave
at any moment. They were regulars and good friends of her father’s. Alice joined her father
and Liam on the opposite side of the table, still heating her hands by the
steam rising from the stew.
“It was William, his
name is William Jance.” One man named Fredrick announced.
Alice
frowned down at her dinner. William. She knew that boy. Very faintly: but
enough to match the name with the face. She also knew that his father had some
authority over things in the East End of the
city, but that was all.
‘What about him?’
she wondered.
“Not too much of a surprise there,” scoffed her father.
Fredrick’s eyebrows rose at the sound of this, “No surprise?
His father is in the council in the East End.
For his son to step out and do such a thing is preposterous!” he declared.
“William has just declared against our faith, he’ll end up
in the East End—or even worst—the slums, where he’ll be dragged off to war and
be killed. That boy doesn’t know what he really wants in life.” Said the second
man next to Fredrick, whose name also was William.
“He thinks he does…”Fredrick muttered, shaking his head.
“You know…even though his father is in leadership, their
family will be facing the consequences if the boy does not repent.” William
added with a sharp nod.
“Think he will?” Alice’s
father asked, clasping his hands together under his chin thoughtfully.
Drama in the South End was never good, whatever the
consequences would be; they would be serious. As Alice began eating the stew she thought over
the things that could happen. ‘I wonder
if the punishment is greater for those in leadership than a child from an
ordinary person who lives here rebels.’ She thought.
Fredrick sighed, “We can only hope,”
“How is the boy’s family taking it all?” her father asked.
“Hard—they—“William began but was cut off by the shout of
Hazel, walking out of the kitchen with Amelia at her side. “Alice--Liam—time
for bed!” Can’t have your work quality be shot down by late nights, now can we?
Hurry up now, it’s getting late!”
Alice
got up; so many thoughts whirled around in her mind. She wished she could stay
and hear the rest of their conversation.
Already dread was filling her heart over hearing of the
consequences that awaited William; like being cast out of the South End for not
following the rules. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand what the big deal
was, but she couldn’t help but feel guilty for somehow breaking enough rules
already to be thrown out.
Alice
got up, put her bowl onto the kitchen counter, then went over to her father and
kissed his cheek, “Good night,” she said. The three men replied in a polite ‘goodnight’
and Alice
started upstairs, Liam trailing behind. Reaching the top of the stairs, Hazel
called her, “Alice,” her voice firm.
“Yes, mother?” Alice
replied, forcing a smile.
“Do try and get to the inn before the rush next time. I
don’t need stress like that another night. Do you understand? Do try and be
more like your sister, on time and hard working.”
Alice
nodded then turned, walking into her small room.
Her heart sinking as her mother’s words twirled around in
her head. Be more like Amelia. Be more like her. As if it wasn’t at all alright
to be Alice.
--E.E.Rice
