Still Alice Page 0,86
Maloney,” someone announced.
Dan stepped forward and shook hands with the man on the stage in exchange for a red folder. Dan then raised the red folder high over his head and smiled in glorious victory. For his joy, for all that he had surely achieved to be here, for the adventure that he would embark upon, Alice applauded him, this student of hers whom she had no memory of.
ALICE AND JOHN STOOD OUTSIDE under a big white tent among the students in dark pink costumes and the people who were happy for them and waited. A young, blond man approached Alice, grinning broadly. Unhesitating, he hugged her and kissed her on the cheek.
“I’m Dan Maloney, your student.”
“Congratulations, Dan, I’m so happy for you,” said Alice.
“Thank you so much. I’m so glad you were able to come and see me graduate. I feel so lucky to have been your student. I want you to know, you were the reason I chose linguistics as my field of study. Your passion for understanding how language works, your rigorous and collaborative approach to research, your love of teaching, you’ve inspired me in so many ways. Thank you for all your guidance and wisdom, for setting the bar so much higher than I thought I could reach, and for giving me plenty of room to run with my own ideas. You’ve been the best teacher I’ve ever had. If I achieve in my life a fraction of what you’ve accomplished in yours, I’ll consider my life a success.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for saying that. You know, I don’t remember so well these days. I’m glad to know that you’ll remember these things about me.”
He handed her a white envelope.
“Here, I wrote it all down for you, everything I just said, so you can read it whenever you want and know what you gave to me even if you can’t remember.”
“Thank you.”
They each held their envelopes, hers white and his red, with deep pride and reverence.
An older, heavier version of Dan and two women, one much older than the other, came over to them. The older, heavier version of Dan carried a tray of bubbly white wine in skinny glasses. The young woman handed a glass to each of them.
“To Dan,” said the older, heavier version of Dan, holding up his glass.
“To Dan,” said everyone, clinking the skinny glasses and taking sips.
“To auspicious beginnings,” added Alice, “and finishing big.”
THEY BEGAN WALKING AWAY FROM the tents and the old, brick buildings and the people in costumes and hats to where it was less populated and noisy. Someone in a black costume yelled and ran over to John. John stopped and let go of Alice’s hand to shake hands with the person who’d yelled. Caught in her own forward momentum, Alice kept walking.
For a stretched-out second, Alice paused and made eye contact with a woman. She was sure she didn’t know the woman, but there was meaning in the exchange. The woman had blond hair, a phone by her ear, and glasses over her big, blue, startled eyes. The woman was driving in a car.
Then, Alice’s hood pulled suddenly tight around her throat, and she was jerked backward. She landed hard and unsuspecting on her back and banged her head on the ground. Her costume and plush hat offered little protection against the pavement.
“I’m sorry, Ali, are you okay?” asked a man in a dark pink robe, kneeling beside her.
“No,” she said, sitting up and rubbing the back of her head. She expected to see blood on her hand but didn’t.
“I’m sorry, you walked right into the street. That car almost hit you.”
“Is she okay?”
It was the woman from the car, her eyes still big and startled.
“I think so,” said the man.
“Oh my god, I could’ve killed her. If you didn’t pull her out of the way, I might’ve killed her.”
“It’s okay, you didn’t kill her, I think she’s okay.”
The man helped Alice stand. He felt and looked at her head.
“I think you’re all right. You’re probably going to be really sore. Can you walk?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Can I give you a ride somewhere?” asked the woman.
“No, no, that’s all right, we’re fine,” said the man.
He put his arm around Alice’s waist and his hand under her elbow, and she walked home with the kind stranger who had saved her life.
SUMMER 2005
Alice sat in a big, comfortable, white chair and puzzled over the clock on the wall. It was the kind with hands and numbers, which was much harder