Alice
December 22, 1976
Dear Mary Ellen,
Your sister came today and brought me pistachio ice cream, my favorite. I had to lick around the pistachio bits because I can't chew anything anymore. She snuck me some cigarettes, too. The doctors would have a fit if they knew, but it doesn't matter. I'm going to die soon, anyway. I can't take morphine while I'm writing to you; it makes me too sleepy. So, a few puffs on a cigarette hardly seems like a crime. It burns my throat something wicked though.
I'm glad your sister still comes to see me, but I worry about her. She's depressed. She thinks her husband is cheating on her. They have been trying to have a baby for years, but it keeps ending in miscarriages. Don't mention any of this to her. It makes her very upset. They have applied to adopt a baby boy from Peru. I sure hope it works out, because if the adoption and her marriage fall apart, she will have a rough time of it.
I'm getting a terrible headache again. More tomorrow, God willing.
Alice
YOU ARE READING
After Alice
Ficción históricaWhen Liv unravels a mystery that has haunted her adopted family for decades, she must confront painful truths about her own abandonment. After her mother shows little interest in finding her lost half-sister, 16-year-old Liv commits to reconnecting...
