Alice: Recovered Memories

Silly Stories

"Whoa." The moment I saw the image of myself as a child, I dropped Shelly's hand immediately.  The sense of lethargy faded, and I felt really nervous.  Though she'd told me that she was coming, and I'd even seen her in my vision, until I experienced her power for myself, part of me didn't believe her.  Jasper rubbed my shoulder, comforting me.

"Do you want to see any more?" Shelly inquired.  At the same time, Jasper said, "You don't have to if you don't want to.  Maybe there's a reason that you can't remember anything."

I shook my head, my eyes closed.  If my heart had still been able to beat, it would have been pounding.  I took a deep breath to calm myself.  "No, I can do this." I smiled at Shelly and Steve.  "I really can.  I want to see more."  Jasper put his arm around me.  Shelly took my hand again.  I closed my eyes once more and felt drowsy again....

By the time I made it downstairs, my mother, whose name I remembered as Edna, was waiting for me, hands on her hips. "Mary Alice, why didn't you wear the curlers I told you to put in your hair?  I don't have time to fix it now.  We're going to be late!"  She dashed to her bedroom, her skirt fanning out around her, and soon returned with a ribbon and a brush. 

"Mama, I told you.  They hurt my head."  She yanked the brush through my hair and pulled part of it up into the ribbon.  "There.  That looks much better. "  She smiled at me.  "I'm sorry, honey.  I don't mean to be so difficult.  Of course, you are always lovely.  I'm just a little anxious about meeting the Bursons.  Since they moved to town, your father wanted us to get to know them better.  Mr. Burson is a jeweler and could become a new client of your father's.  I'm just worried about first impressions."

I nodded, feeling a little self conscious.  I had never felt like I was that pretty.  I didn't have my mother's long, curly chestnut brown hair.  Mine was black, straight, and thin.  It just kind of hung there.  I did have her pale peaches and cream complexion, though.  As a child of nine years old,  I was starting to become more aware of such things, such as the latest fashions that other girls my age wore.  I never felt I could measure up.  Our family was thoroughly middle class.  I also never quite felt that I fit in with the other children my age.  I realized now, through the visions of my past, that I had had this "gift" since my childhood.  It didn't exactly warm people to me.

My mother held my hand and we walked down the dirt road to the Burson's house.  Mrs. Burson, who introduced herself to my mother and me as Florence, was a pretty woman of about thirty years old, which was around the same age as my mother.  She had auburn hair, which she wore in a wide brimmed summer hat, and sparkling green eyes.  She introduced her daughter, Elizabeth, a blonde haired child of about five or six.  She smiled a gapped tooth smile at us and waved. Florence showed us to the lanai, where a wrought iron table had a pretty china tea set in place.  We took our seats.

"Florence, this is my daughter Mary Alice," my mother stated upon taking her seat.

"Alice," I corrected her in a quiet voice.

"Mary Alice is her Christian name," my mother said, slightly sternly.  I blushed tomato red and looked down at my lap, suddenly fascinated with the hem of my dress.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both.  We have really enjoyed Biloxi so far," Florence said with a smile.  "We came from Pensacola and decided we'd try our luck a little further west.  Everyone we've met has just been so nice and friendly, and the weather has been lovely, of course."  She began pouring cups of tea and handed them out, setting one in front of each of us.  They were so pretty, with a pattern of little intricate roses around the edge.  I was kind of clumsy and was almost afraid to pick one up.  They looked very expensive. 

"It is really pretty this time of year.  A little warm, but the ocean breeze usually takes care of that.  It's too bad that we're right in the middle of hurricane season."

"Oh yes, it seems like we've had a fair share of hurricanes in September down here the last few years."

I just had one of my feelings and I didn't think before I spoke.  "A big storm's coming in three weeks.  A hurricane."

Florence sat down her tea cup.  My mom almost slammed hers down.  "What makes you say that, dear?" Florence asked in a sweet voice. 

"MARY ALICE BRANDON!  How many times have I told you to quit making up those silly stories?  It was cute as first, but now it's just odd."  She took a deep breath and turned to Florence.  "An active imagination, that child."  She was trying to save face. 

Tears pricked in my eyes and I tried to wipe them away, but they just gushed and overflowed.  I jumped up out of my seat and ran off the lanai and through the front yard and down the road back to our house.  I ran up the stairs and threw myself onto my bed and cried and cried.  Why did I have to be so different?  I didn't want to embarrass my family.  Why was I such a freak?