The Fall of Alice K. Read Online Free PDF Page B

to connect with her mother, but she kept a good four feet distance.
    â€œAre you still worried about Aldah?”
    â€œAldah is beyond worry.”
    â€œMother.”
    â€œThe farm is beyond worry. The world is beyond worry.”
    Her mother looked relaxed and tense at the same time—like a petrified rag doll.
    â€œNot everything is lost,” said Alice. “Dad said cattle and hog prices could go up. You have to believe that something good could happen.”
    â€œFor somebody who thinks she’s so smart, you can’t even see the elephant that’s stepping on your toes.”
    â€œPlease stop. I came out here because I was worried about you.”
    â€œThe only person you worry about is yourself.”
    â€œYou just walked out of the kitchen. That’s not like you.”
    â€œHow would you know?” said her mother. “Just how would you know what is like me?”
    â€œWhy can’t you ever believe me?”
    â€œOkay, you were worried about me.”
    â€œI was. So what’s going on?”
    â€œI was just thinking.”
    â€œOkay. About?”

    â€œAbout you. About your father, about Aldah, about us, about the world. About the grand arcs of history, about the miniature dramas of family, about the futility of our will.”
    Alice moved a little closer. “Good God, Mother.”
    Now her mother looked at her. Alice noticed that she had jutted her own left hip out and had her right hand on her right hip. Her mother might see this as an arrogant stance and think that Alice was mocking her. Alice let her arms fall to her sides and leaned humbly forward. Her mother noticed, but her expression was puzzling. She wore an unfamiliar expression, almost an aggressive look, as if she was ready to take on something bigger than Alice or Aldah or anything Alice could understand.
    â€œYou okay?”
    Her mother turned her eyes from Alice and leaned forward. She tried to turn the metal lawn chair into a rocker, which only made a rhythmic grating sound on the porch floor. “As okay as okay can be.” She lifted her head and stared out through the screens, not at Alice. “It’s just life,” she said. “I don’t think my faith can sustain me.”
    Alice didn’t know if her mother was pushing her away with that comment or inviting her in. Alice stepped in: “Sustain you through what? What are you going through?”
    â€œYou don’t know? Intelligent as you think you are, are you really telling me that you don’t know?” There was an edge to her mother’s voice, almost disgust—as if she thought the answer was so obvious that only a fool would ask.
    Alice paused and took a deep breath. “No, I don’t know. What are you going through?”
    A steer moaned mournfully from the feedlot, and Alice worried for a second that she might have missed some ailment when she fed them. Then another steer moaned in response. They were just talking to each other in a sweet eunuchs’ conversation.
    â€œWhat does any person go through when they realize there’s no hope,” said her mother. “And that there should be no hope. Hope is not a way of honoring the Lord, it’s a way of insulting Him. Selfish wishes. Hope is greed disguised.”
    Never before had Alice imagined that her mother’s scattered and so
often scathing thoughts could come together in such chilling generalizations. “Mother,” she said, and she paused and thought before going on. “How much time do you spend thinking like this? And how do I fit into your thinking?”
    â€œYou?” she said. “You. You’ll find your way.” She paused even longer than Alice had paused. “If you can ever find it in your heart to learn humility,” she said in a voice of bitter finality.
    â€œAll right,” Alice said quickly. “Anything else?”
    â€œIf you ever stop thinking that the world revolves