A Sunday Drive in August

Whenever he and I forget to remember why we love each other; Alice helps us. We don’t talk about whether or not that’s a good or a bad thing. Not anymore.

The last time Alice came up, we were on our way out of town.  In the car, driving towards the hospital in Davenport, the thickness of the August heat beating down through the sunroof, and all he said was “Alice would hate this.”

“No, she wouldn’t.  She wouldn’t hate the heat, just the destination. Alice thought hospitals were ridiculous.”

Alice was our medium.  We always used her voice to disagree.  It was easier that way and without it; we would have stopped talking a long time ago.

And we both knew, if we didn’t have each other to talk to, we wouldn’t have anything.

The hospital visit loomed ahead of us.  We knew it was the last one.  We knew the news wasn’t good; awful actually.  We were going anyway; just to hear the last bit of hope finally destroyed. That way we would be sure. Alice would’ve told us not to go.  “Ignorance is bliss,” she’d say and then smile.

In the car, sweating, we talked about the day she came into our lives. 

The day was blistering, like today, and I was at the river trying to fish.  He was there too, downstream a ways, so I couldn’t see him.  I didn’t know he existed.  When I saw her, she just walked into the river, naked, without a care in the world as to who was going to see her.  She walked out from under the willow and floated into the water, and just like that she was gone.  She must have been pulled under by some current – if I hadn’t been looking at her, I wouldn’t have known she had even been there in the first place.

I screamed and that’s when he came running around the corner.  He dove in and pulled her from the water – everything happened so quickly – it almost didn’t seem real.

Later he told me he was watching her get undressed under the willow tree and saw her jump in – that was why he got there so fast – not because I screamed.

When you save someone’s life, they become a part of your forever.

She and he and I; we never were apart after that.  I’m not sure why he ended up with me and not her.  He always said he liked a good argument and she was too agreeable.  Alice always was the one to settle the disputes between the two of us.  She would explain his side to me and my side to him – somehow it always seemed to make sense coming from her. 

She died when we were 20.  Hit by a car in the middle of the road on the way to her job as a checker at the local grocery store.

“Why was she walking in the middle of the road?” I always wondered.

“That was just Alice,” he would answer.

After she died, we didn’t know how to talk to each other anymore.  Her ghost seemed to help us with that.  We just started talking in her voice. Like I said, when you save someone’s life, they are with you forever.

Sometimes, in my secret mind, I wonder if he was meant to save her that day, or we just messed up some plan to take her.  We only had her for 3 years, and I guess God takes the ones he wants eventually.

God’s going to take him.  Soon. 

Our fears confirmed; we drive from the hospital and head out to the river.  We don’t go to the same spot, it’s not deep enough. We head to the cliff.

He looks over at me from the driver’s side, sweat dripping down his face.  The worry lines have disappeared since we decided.  Without Alice, we would never have met.  He wouldn’t have me here with him now – and maybe that would have been good for me.  But I’m selfish. I’m glad I’m here. I don’t want a world without him or Alice.

As we grasp hands, and he steps on the accelerator, we see her appear at the same time.  Alice.  Beckoning us forward.  We turn to look at each other, surprised that she is really there with us. 

But then not, because like I said, when you save someone’s life, they stay with you forever.