Fantasy Pt. 08: Alice's Failure

Fantasy

By H. Jekyll

Part Eight: Alice's Failure

*****

Sherrie would hardly speak to Alice, except to bully her into eating, at which she was better than Henry. With Henry, she was a different person, chatty and happy. They discussed work, about how the assistant manager would handle the office Monday morning, everyday topics. They never mentioned the marital breakup, the rape, the beating, anything like that at all. Would you? Which cut down the set of potential topics for discussion quite a bit. And, frankly, as you've undoubtedly guessed, she didn't want to have to talk to the bitch--her word. I'm just telling you the facts. When Sherrie turned from Henry to Alice, her face would change, freeze for a second. Alice had little to say, but a lot of time to observe.

Still, it was Sherrie who noticed the small, red stain on the front of Henry's shirt.

"Is that where I hit you? And it bled? I hit you that hard?"

"What is it?" asked Alice. "What do you mean you hit him?"

"Oh bother," said Henry. "You know, it's been such a strange day, I'd forgotten about it."

"Doesn't it hurt?" asked Sherrie.

"What do you mean you hit Henry?"

"It's complicated, Alice." He nodded toward Sherrie. "Sherrie decided I was a monster, for beating you. It's neither here nor there, but I agree with her. Anyway, she thought I should know what it feels like, on the receiving end. She only hit me once. And no, it doesn't hurt."

Alice sat frozen during Henry's answer. She turned to stare at Sherrie. "You hit Henry with the belt? How could you do that?"

"Well, maybe I hit the wrong person!"

"Sherrie!" It was Henry. Alice didn't respond at all. Frankly, no one responded to anything at all for a moment.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. And I shouldn't have hit him. I was angry with him, after I saw your wounds. I didn't understand how he could do that. Him, of all people. Look, I should leave. I'll take you to the doctor on Monday, but I think tomorrow I'll take a rain check. I'm not handling all this very well, as should be obvious. Henry, you should soak that stain. I can't believe you never noticed it."

"Well," and here Henry laughed to try to smooth things. "Next time I'll wear a white shirt, so it'll show up better."

At the door he asked Sherrie if she really wanted to drive Alice on Monday. Maybe it wasn't a good idea?

"I'll be better. Really. I want to help, and I promise not to hurt her. You take care." Before she left she gave him a kiss on the cheek, a longer kiss than might have been necessary.

*****

"She hates me."

"She's upset. She'll be okay."

"No, she hates me, and she likes you."

"She's my friend."

"She's right to hate me. I hate myself. I'm the monster." She wants to be more than your friend. It's obvious, but you can't tell. "You say you don't hate me, but you do. Everyone hates Alice, and I deserve it. I drove away every single person with sex. I'm the fucking whore of Babylon! I wish there was some place I could go, far away, but there isn't, and I have to keep bothering you." She stood and turned away and wiped her eyes. "I said I wouldn't cry anymore, and I won't." Maybe when I'm gone she'll get rid of her awful husband and come after my Henry. Not mine anymore. She's not a homewrecker, so she wouldn't do it deliberately. I just wish I could hate her back.

"Alice. Alice." Henry stepped in front of her and held her close, warm, a hug, holding her all the way up against him, his face touching the top of her head, putting his lips to her hair, knowing he was in dangerous territory. The feeling from last night came back. "I don't hate you. I'm angry with you. Okay? Angry. And disappointed. Does that make you feel any better? I'll get over it. And the monster. That's Richard. Can't we all agree on that?" He took a breath or two. "Also, 'whore of Babylon' doesn't refer to what I think you think it does." He was a little surprised she'd used the word "fucking."

He continued to hold her and she lay her head on his chest. The feeling was the same one from last night, identical, when he had comforted her and soothed her and it had filled him with wonder. He would lose it soon enough.

"Oh!" She lifted her head. "I don't want to hurt your sore."

"It doesn't hurt. I'm fine."

"Can we look at it?"

"I'm fine."

"We need to make sure it isn't infected."

So, there was nothing to do but go off to the bathroom and take out the supplies he'd used on Alice yesterday. The wound's edges were inflamed, so he let her fuss over it. Well, goose and gander, folks. Yes, of course she had an ulterior motive, and you know what it was. Henry could tell, too, though he tried to ignore it. He liked the feel of her hands on his chest, until he imagined her hands playing with the breasts of Justine and Juliet. There was that problem yet again. Do I have to spell everything out? The good feeling drained away. Alice cleaned the wound, which did hurt, and put some antibacterial cream on it, and a bandage. She got to touch him more than she needed to, trying not to be too obvious. When she was finally finished he thanked her and left to get ready for bed while she got ready to shower. The doc had said Alice could, so she stripped down, but there was a different problem. It hit her right then that this was where she'd first shaved herself for Richard. Once the memory came, she couldn't make herself get in but stared at it. Panic came from nowhere. She hugged herself until it began to pass, and then she stared at the shower some more, and then she began to do what she'd promised she wouldn't. She started to cry, quietly, so Henry wouldn't hear her.

She cried the clock away until Henry knocked on the door. "Alice? Are you okay?"

"I'll be done in a bit." Then she got in and soaped her body quickly and washed her hair, careful to scrub her face to help fix her red eyes, and got out.

She had stubble. She hadn't had any since Richard had taken her. She got a fresh razor and shaved herself. Then she stood in front of the mirror to see how she would look for Henry, but all she saw were grotesque cuts and bruises he had laid on her. The bruises on her face seemed especially bad and, looking at them, she crumpled inside.

****

Henry wasn't finished with questions. Once Alice was out he had to ask about the immense thing that had been hanging in the background since Sherrie had arrived: why had she felt she had to do Richard in front of him? At what had she failed that required that in atonement? It ballooned over him.

They went out to the living room, where she sat on the couch and he on the loveseat. He asked her directly and--knowing she had lost him--she found it easier to answer.

"It was the bukkake. I couldn't get through it."

"In the screen shot you seemed okay. What happened?"

"What you saw was the first six men."

"First six?"

They were mostly volunteers from among the guests, and they came in six at a time. If they took part, they got a discount, and there was never a problem getting volunteers, though Richard said it was surprising how many couldn't perform when they were being watched. A woman who volunteered got the whole week free, and she'd get prizes and an "honorarium." They did two bukkake shows a week, which were expensive extras for the guests and well attended, at least by the men. In the first show women guests could see what they'd experience in the second show, if they volunteered, in exchange for a big payoff.

"How did the observers fit in that little cabin?"

It wasn't a cabin. The photo was misleading. It was a sunken stage with a platform, and bleacher seats that went up all four sides. All the 'wet' entertainment happened there. There were overhead TV screens so people could observe happenings more clearly, just like at major sporting events. There was another, larger stage, utilized both simultaneously and at other times, for people who weren't interested in that sort of thing.

"You were the first night's entertainment."

A sigh. "Yes. I'd seen videos. Some women have no problem with it. None at all. I don't know how. You saw. Richard decided to tie me to the platform and the men stood around working themselves up. When my skin got slippery, Juliet and Justine would spread the stuff on my nipples and vagina to work me up."

"They weren't in the pic."

"They were there." Another sigh. "Anyway, after the six all came, they would line up by my face and I was supposed to clean the extra off each of their cocks with my mouth."

"Later they would scoop some into a glass...?" She broke in. She didn't want it said explicitly.

"It never got to that point. It was supposed to happen. But when I was doing the second group I got sick. I got queasy and then threw up all over. All over myself. Everything. The phlegm, dinner, the red wine from dinner, the dessert and coffee. All over me." Still another sigh. "That kind of ended the entertainment."

While a crew cleaned up and Richard offered partial reimbursements, Juliet and Justine tied Alice's wrists behind her and led her to a shower room. They thought the whole thing was funny and joked about it while they washed her. Ho-ho! "Next time fee scoop it all up unt you dreenk it down." Ho-ho. "Womit meelkshake." Very funny. It made Alice start to get sick all over again.

They washed her body thoroughly, washed her hair three times, held her mouth open while they brushed her teeth and flossed her, then made her rinse out her mouth over and again. When finally done, they sat her in a chair and dried her hair completely with a blow dryer. They replaced the wet ties from her wrists with soft handcuffs and put a dog collar on her. She cooperated fully in everything. They finally led her down a cinder block stairwell, at least three flights of stairs with meager lighting, that ended at a small closet with a built-in bench. Here, they secured her dog collar tightly to the wall, pulled her feet far to the sides, and used more soft cuffs to fasten them to bolts in either the floor or wall. She never knew which. They each gave her a deep, luscious kiss. Then Justine said, "Fee fill zee yoo zometime," and slammed the door. That was when Alice first realized she was in a vault. There was no light, and she could hear nothing from outside.

"I bet you cried then."

"Please, Henry. Don't."

"I'm sorry. Go on."

Mostly she whimpered while she thought of all the possibilities. Would Richard make her do endless bukkake until she learned? Maybe there really would be a vomit milkshake? Would he have her whipped? Or demoted and removed from the program? Or would he make her stay in here forever? She could die and no one would know. At some point she became hysterical and screamed and squirmed, but no one came or seemed to hear her, and her only accomplishment was chafed skin. Finally, at some point, she drifted off.

The next day--it must have been the next day because it seemed a long, long time and she could tell there was some natural light--Juliet and Justine let her out. They removed all her bindings and helped her up, put a kimono on her, and walked her to the cabin she shared with Richard. They kept glancing at their watches and got there just as Richard did. He came with another girl whom he kissed and sent on. The clock in the cabin told Alice it was 8:00 a.m.

She wanted desperately to apologize and promise him she would do better, but he shushed her. "Take off your kimono. Lie down. That's right. Girls, help her relax. I know it's been a bad night." Juliet and Justine massaged her all over, to the point she began to drift, while Richard lay beside her and watched. Finally, he said:

"I know you won't disappoint me again."

They went to sleep, but as she told Henry, "I knew I was on notice."

*****

"And that's why you felt you couldn't disobey him. For ruining that show and the next one."

"Only that show. They still had the second one. I had to watch it. Three women volunteered and they had a drawing to determine who won."

"Three? After the mess you made? Why?"

"I don't know."

"But you had to make up for the failure."

"I'd just begun working on throating. I think he decided I had to show I could do it."

"And you passed his test."

"Uh-huh."

"Well, how's that working out for you? No. Forget it. I'm sorry. That was just piling on. So, you passed his test, that one of them."

"Yes."

"And you failed mine."

Alice didn't respond for the longest time, long enough for us to carry out a thought experiment. What if she had told Richard "I don't care what happens. I won't humiliate my husband. I won't do that in front of him and in public." Would Henry have been more likely to welcome her back? Or were things already too far gone? No, I don't know the answer either, but it could have made for quite a different story.

"I know. I know I did. And he threw me out anyway. Just like that. I failed everything."

"He was playing you. He was never going to keep you, you know."

"I know that now."

"Do you think you might have said 'no' if you hadn't been, as you call it, 'on notice?"

"I don't know. I really don't. I'm sorry. Probably not."

"You couldn't refuse him anything, even if it affected me? And, by the way, you can stop saying you're 'sorry' about every single thing. It doesn't help."

"What would happen to me if I did?" She realized how bad an answer that was, even as she said it.

"I personally think he might have thrown you out. Oh! Wait! He did anyway!" Alice looked woeful, and promise or not her eyes were wet, but she didn't say anything. What was there to say? "What about your telling me how very, very much you two satisfied each other?"

"What else could I say? What in the world could I say? That I didn't like everything? That some things made me sick? That I was afraid of what he might do to me? Please, Henry. I never understood how deep things would get, and by then it was too late."

"Too late?"

"To get out. I thought it was too late to get out. I didn't have anything out in the world anymore. Or anyone. So, I did what I could to stay in his graces."

"Forever?"

"Forever." Alice's laugh was like a short little bark. "Yes. 'Forever' became keeping myself looking glamorous, saying all the right things, and doing harder and harder stuff for him. That was my miserable 'forever.'"

She stopped and began shivering, breathing hard, closing her eyes. Henry let her pass through the episode without offering support or asking when she could take her next pill. Then:

"You still liked some of it."

"Yes, I liked some of it, but there was all the rest."

"And yet...and yet you could have walked away at any time. It wasn't like being in the mob. What a commitment. What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me." She shivered and started breathing fast again, and Henry let it pass again.

*****

They sat quietly for a few minutes, once it was over, not looking at each other, before she asked:

"Would it be okay...?"

"Yes?"

"Never mind. I know the answer."

"If you don't ask the answer is always 'no.'"

"I wanted to know if it would be okay if I slept in your bed again. But I know I've thrown that away too. I know you don't want to be close to me..."

"Stop telling me what you think you know about my thinking. Jesus Christ that's irritating! You always did that when we were married; you don't need to keep doing it now."

"I'm sorry. We are though...never mind."

"What?"

"I didn't mean to say 'I'm sorry.' It just came out. Really."

"You're getting pretty good at it. So, what were you going to say?"

"Just that we're still married. Legally."

"Yeah. Okay. You win a point. You'd rather win than get on my better side, wouldn't you? Well, it doesn't affect much, not like doing Richard in front of me." She started to say "I'm sorry" but bit it off and just pulled her hands to her stomach, as though it hurt.

"Oh, forget it. Nothing has changed. I know some ugly details, which is where the Devil resides, unfortunately. But the big picture hasn't changed. So, sure. Share the bed. Just stay on your side."

He said that? Hell, shouldn't he have kicked her out of the house entirely? She was a lost cause, even as a poor, lost soul. But that's what he said. What he thought was more complicated and you can trace the conclusion, if you want, to Lincoln, who had trust in "the better angels of our nature." They seem to have triumphed here, at least for the moment.

Well, I asked her to tell me those things, didn't I? Have I forgiven her for it all? I thought so. I really did think so. I'm not at all sure anymore. But she forgave me, didn't she? I beat her and now I'm her damned hero. Jesus! I don't want to be her God damned hero. I don't want her to need me after what she did. Maybe being a little crazy helps her. For me? I guess I can stand her being in the bed. Being close to me seems to help her, and this is only for a while. She'll get therapy and regain her sanity, or enough of it to get by. She'll find a moderately nice guy who'll tie her up from time to time and make her do things, and she'll be happy. I can stand it for a while.

Or it could be from Shakespeare, who has Portia say:

"The quality of mercy is not strain'd.

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes."

So, sue me. I like Lincoln and I like Shakespeare. In truth, both lines failed at the time. Lincoln wasn't able to stop the Civil War from coming and Portia wasn't able to get Shylock to show mercy toward Antonio. Whatever. Something like mercy got Henry to let Alice sleep in his bed, where he could comfort her if she had one of her nightmares. I personally think the panic episodes and nightmares affected him more than he'd like to let on.

And let's not fool ourselves. It's because she was Alice. Oh, come on. Do you really think Henry would get the warm fuzzies and put himself out like that if the person having nightmares was, say, Ilse, she-wolf of the SS? Or maybe Joe Stalin? I don't doubt that he'd feel that way if he were called upon to comfort a small child, but there isn't one available hereabouts, so it's Alice or nothing. And Alice isn't 'nothing' to him. Love can turn to hate in a heartbeat, but people do remember that they loved another, and they can remember a lot of "whys" for a long time. It's why we mourn the end of love. Those things linger in our minds.

As it was, she took her pills and they carefully got on opposite sides of the bed.

*****

Before going to sleep, Alice had a question. She turned toward Henry and asked:

"Are you still planning to shoot Richard?"

"It's a nice idea, isn't it? But I think his security is better now, at least with respect to me. Even so, successful or not, I'd be the prime suspect, and one thing I won't do is go to prison for that son of a bitch."

"Oh."

"Though it's crossed my mind that he could easily arrange a little accident for me, so he would never have to worry about that eventuality."

"Do you really think so?"

"Just hypothetically. Frankly, I think he's too arrogant to be concerned about me. He won and we lost and I'm sure he's moved on to other conquests. But there's another thing. He has a lot of video of you. It hasn't made it out of his vaults, as far as I know. But if I were to be the least bit threatening, well, you might turn up all over the Internet."

"Do you think he'd consider something like that?"

"He's always three jumps ahead. So, yes. I think he has it tucked away somewhere in his head. Just one more option."

Alice actually went to sleep happy. Henry was worried about her, about her image being used in blackmail. He had addressed her as 'love' earlier in the day, even if he had been insulting. He had held her and had let her tend to his belt wound. And he let her into the bed despite everything. Desperately reading the tea leaves, she thought there was a pattern, and she felt almost blessed, more than she had a right to be. If only it were enough to keep her from having bad dreams.