I hesitated to ask and then blurted, "Did she remember giving birth to me?"
"She never mentioned it and I was afraid to say a word until she did."
"Then she never asked about me?"
"No," he said. "I'm sorry, Alice. I'm sure it had to do with her mental condition."
I nodded. My grandmother had told me the truth, but that didn't make me feel any better. If anything, I felt even more alone now, even more lost.
I sat on the settee.
"That seems so incredible," I muttered in disappointment.
"Psychiatrists attribute it to the brain's defense mechanisms. It was too difficult for her to face it, admit to it, whatever. Selective amnesia, I once heard it called. We all do some of that."
"Well, what did she remember then?"
"Seemingly most everything else, but nothing specific about the events relating to Harry Pearson. She went around ugly things, babbled about the village, the people, laughed about things she had done with Zipporah. After a while I realized she was talking incessantly partly to keep me from talking, from asking anything, I think."
"How did she explain being where she was?"
"That was what I was referring to. She told me she was being studied by some of the world's most renowned psychotherapists, and had agreed to it to do something worthwhile in her life. She told me as a result she was treated like some sort of princess and everything I saw, all these people, were at her disposal. She could order anything she wanted to eat. She had her own television set, clothes, magazines, books, anything. 'I merely ask and it is done,' she told me. She assured me I would be reading about her someday in magazines and books.
"She acted as if the clinic were a palace, her palace. She showed me about the place and introduced me to everyone, telling them I was her first high school crush. The way some of the staff members reacted to her made me think that they thought she was telling the truth. She was there because she had volunteered to be there. She did appear to have the run of the place without any restrictions.
"Toward the end of my visit, she asked me if I didn't think she had been so lucky to get out of our sleepy village and do something interesting with her life. Of course, I said yes and she told me not to worry. I'd surely find my way out as well and do something worthwhile.
"I asked her if there was anything she needed, anything she wanted. She smiled and countered with, 'But Jesse, what could I possibly want that I don't have?'
"I kissed her on the cheek and started out. Before I reached the door, she was talking and laughing with some of the staff as if my visit were nothing more than a slight interruption, as if what she had said was true, I was a young girl's infatuation, some memory pasted in an old album and basically forgotten.
"It did me a lot of good to make that visit, however. As I said, it relieved me of guilt. Maybe she knew what she was doing. Maybe that was her gift to me. I never went back, never wrote to her or called. That's why I don't know anything about her condition now. I'm sorry," he added, seeing how silent I was, "sorry that I don't have anything to tell you that would help you understand more."
"Jesse!" we heard Rachel calling
He looked at me.
I had to get it out quickly, get out what gnawed at my heart, my very soul.
"If the only explanation for what she did is madness," I said, "then I'm afraid whatever that madness was will someday awaken in me, too."
I didn't think he had ever thought I had that fear. He look
ed a bit shocked for a moment.
"Jesse!" Rachel called again.
"Coming!"
He stood up. "The wonder of the genetic pool is that we're all different, Alice," he said gently. "You look like her, but you're not her, and besides, you're growing up under different circumstances, different conditions. That plays a role in things as well."
He looked at the door.
"We'll talk about it some more when we can, but what you're feeling and thinking is what's worrying Grandma and Grandpa, Alice. You've got to break out of this. Get into the stream of things so you can develop all your potential."
"I know," I said. "Join clubs, make friends." "There's nothing wrong with being happy," he said, starting away.
"Unless it's all pretend," I tossed at him. He paused at the doorway.