1040: Chapter 23

We spent most of the walk home in silence. Alice held on to my hand for most of it. I felt a little self-conscious at first, but after a while it just felt comforting to have her there. It was a little chilly out, but I felt warmth through her hand, both physically and from her affection. It felt nice.

I found myself wondering if she’d be able to stay. My thoughts once again strayed to the unwelcome fact that she didn’t belong in this world. “My” Alice was gone now. Could she really be replaced by this… alternative version? She was exactly the same in almost every respect — the only difference was in what she had lived through. It must have been horrifying.

And yet there was something different. I don’t think I had ever felt so close to my sister. We were siblings and we loved each other, sure, but more often than not in the past I’d kept myself to myself and she’d gone on with her own life. She’d always been the social, outgoing one; I’d always been the awkward loser spending most of his time in his room. We’d had our disagreements and fights, too; there were times when she got frustrated with me and the way I was, I think, and just took out that frustration on me by hurling insults she didn’t really mean. I never responded. Whatever she said, I never felt like I could say a harsh word to her.

Now, it was different. She was still the feisty Alice I knew, but there was more obvious warmth, affection and love in the way she treated me. Was this the result of her loneliness? Of the horrors she’d been through? Or was it me who’d changed? Was I the one who was coming to understand her a little better, and she was just starting to respond to me in a different way accordingly?

I wasn’t sure just yet. But I felt like I was creeping ever-closer to an answer.

There were still other questions to resolve, too, not least of which was this mysterious “chaos” thing that was there as a constant, menacing backdrop to our time together. Every time I looked at Alice, I became aware that there was a reason she was here, and it wasn’t a happy one.

It didn’t help that I still had no idea what I was supposed to do. How do you deal with something that is pure chaos? How do you deal with something that is clearly capable of devastating atrocities? How do you deal with something that can mess with your mind so thoroughly, even when it’s not at its full strength?

Alongside that, there was my relationship with Laura. I wasn’t sure where I stood any more. I felt like I’d been pushing her away a bit since Alice had come to this world. But oddly I didn’t feel too bad about it, even despite what she’d told me about being alone. I thought I should feel guilt, but I didn’t. She was slipping away, and I knew it, and I felt nothing.

I thought back over our time together, and something occurred to me: I had no idea how we had met, or when.

It hadn’t struck me as particularly odd up until now. But today the thought refused to be ignored. I couldn’t remember how or where I had met Laura, and the more I thought about it, the less it seemed to make sense.

She was a pretty, confident, nice girl who by all rights should have been surrounded by friends and admirers. And she chose to spend her time with me. Why would she do that? Why would she settle for me, as awkward and messed up as I am, when it’s clear that she could do so much better? Why didn’t she have any other friends? And why couldn’t I remember where she had come from?

“Ow,” said Alice. I became aware that I had been squeezing her hand rather tighter than I had meant to.

“Sorry,” I said. She didn’t let go.

We continued to walk in silence.

I tried to put thoughts of Laura out of my mind. She wasn’t important right now. The only person who mattered was Alice. She was here with me now, and she was helping me. I didn’t want to feel too much like I was relying on her — I was starting to think that was a problem both Laura and I were having with each other — but I was glad to have her around. And I hoped she felt the same way. She certainly didn’t seem to have a problem with being here. I suppose that anything must be better than being stuck in the only remaining hint of civilisation in an otherwise-devastated world.

“What’s it like?” I said out loud suddenly, before I realised what I was asking.

“What?” she said, looking up at me.

“Your world,” I said. The words were just coming out. I didn’t want to upset her, but at the same time I wanted to know.

“Oh,” she said. She turned away and looked a little sad for a moment. Then she looked back at me with a surprisingly bright face. “It’s actually not as bad as you might think. I know I’ve complained and cried and whatnot when you showed up, but that was more out of shock than anything. It feels weird to say this, but it’s not so bad.”

“Really?” I asked. Her response surprised me. I considered how I would feel if I was in her situation, and realised that it was entirely possible that I wouldn’t survive it. I shivered slightly.

“Yes,” she said. “I mean, yes, it’s desperately lonely and I do hate not having anyone to talk to. I much prefer it here, where I can talk to you and Aril and anyone else I see whenever I want, but you know, being all alone doesn’t have to be awful.”

“No?” I asked. I was genuinely interested in what she had to say. It sounded like the worst thing possible to me.

“No,” she said. “It’s nice to be, I don’t know, free. Oh, God, that sounds awful. I didn’t mean to say that I’m glad everyone’s gone. But, you know, it’s really nice to know that you’re not being judged or pressured to do stuff. I can just be who I want to be without having to worry about anything like that.”

“Huh,” I said. I hadn’t thought of it that way. And it was true — loneliness was a terrible, awful feeling that I had experienced, though not on the same level as Alice clearly had, but being by yourself didn’t have to be a terrible thing. Even when you’re surrounded by people, you can feel lonely. You can feel their eyes on you, sizing you up, trying to work out what sort of person you are. And I’d do the same, wondering what the best way to approach that person and strike up a conversation with them would be.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to people or make new friends. It was that I couldn’t. I’d feel completely crippled by this sense of self-doubt and believe that the person I was looking at wouldn’t want to speak to me, ever, and thus I’d just sit there and not talk to anyone. It’s why I stopped going to college parties. I tried going to a few but after a while it just got more depressing to watch all the people who could do it having fun in front of me, as if they were mocking me. Rationally, I knew that they weren’t, of course — they were just being themselves — but it still stung all the same.

“Look,” said Alice seriously. “I know you’re hurting. I know it’s been that way for a while. And I know that, if your Alice is anything like me, I probably haven’t helped much in the past either. But I also know that you’re strong. You may feel battered and beaten and broken, but you’re still standing. You’re still here. You’re still going. You’re always pushing forwards. You’re always trying to make it better, whether or not you realise it.”

It was the most mature thing I think I’d ever heard come out of her mouth, and again it surprised me a little. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to it, so I just squeezed her hand affectionately and we continued to walk.

“Thanks,” I said a few minutes later.

“Uh?” she said.

“You’re right,” I said. “I look at you, who has been through something infinitely worse than anything I can possibly imagine, and then I look at me, who has his own stuff to deal with, sure, but nothing on that scale. If you can stay standing after what you’ve been through, then surely I can, too.”

“That’s the spirit,” she said, smiling broadly at me. “Now how about we stop at the shop on the way home? I want chocolate.”

We took a detour to the little corner shop that was a few blocks away from my house and bought Alice some chocolate. I bought myself an energy drink in an attempt to wake myself up a little bit. It didn’t feel like it was helping, but I gulped it down anyway.

“Those things’ll kill you,” said Alice, munching on her chocolate bar. “Some chemical they used to use on soldiers in Vietnam or something.”

“Bollocks,” I said, laughing.

“It’s true!” said Alice. “I remember reading it online before ‘online’ didn’t exist any more.”

“Oh, and you believe everything you read online, do you?” I asked. It momentarily occurred to me that Alice might have come from a dimension where you could trust everything you read online, but that just seemed too ridiculous a prospect to even contemplate.

“No,” she said, giggling.

This was nice. It was like old times, only better. I loved her. I didn’t want her to go away again. I wanted my life to carry on almost as it was now, though I could live without that constant slight feeling of lingering malice in the background.

She’d told me several times now that we were going to get through this whole situation, and that everything would be all right.

Finally, I was starting to believe her.