Alice eyed the envelope in her lap, wary of reading about how other people’s lives were progressing when hers was painfully static.
Teach backpedaled toward the bungalow’s exit, smiling ear to ear. What was she getting on about with that grin?
Then Alice saw the return address.
Carole Lombard.
Alice’s mouth fell open and her eyes flicked to Teach, who saluted her like a general in the army.
Alice tore open the envelope and had the letter out before the screen door banged closed.
She’d become friendly with Carole at the ranch, all but embarrassing herself with the facts she rattled off about one of her favorite film stars.
Carole was born in Indiana. Her real name was Jane, a film company suggesting she change it. She chose Carole after a girl she played tennis with. In the 1920s, she starred in more than twenty silent films. “And you’re in the midst of a seven-year contract with Paramount,” Alice had recited. She’d read all about Carole in interviews.
Carole had laughed when, really, she could have run in the other direction. And now Alice was holding a letter from her.
Slower than she’d ripped open the envelope, she carefully unfolded the paper.
Dear Alice,
I sincerely hope it’s all right that Teach told me about your plight. It was done so with your best interest in mind, I can assure you. You see, I have a story of my own I’d like to share with you, one you miraculously did not comment upon when we first met. I can only assume you don’t know about this moment in my life. Not surprising, as my film company at the time largely kept it out of the press and interviews. I’d done three films with them, with Fox, in 1925. I had a tremendous gap between my first film in 1921—remember the one where I’d been casted after they caught me playing baseball with the boys—and these back-to-back films. I believed my star was on the rise and I’d keep making film after film after film.
But then I was in a horrific automobile accident. My face sustained much of the damage. I required one hundred stitches and hours of surgery, devoid of any pain medication. I shiver at the memory even now. For six months, I lay on a hospital bed, much like you are today. Four months of that time I wasn’t allowed to move an inch for fear of undoing all the doctors had done to make me look human again. To make matters worse, Fox canceled my contract. They didn’t think I’d have a face for film any longer. The doctors said as much too. They told me I’d have scars—and I still do, to this day, on my left cheek, across my upper lip, and through my eyebrow.
I wanted to die. To vanish. I felt lost. I wasn’t sure who I’d be anymore. I mourned a career that felt cut off at the knees. I cried, a lot. You may feel similar, Alice.
Then I began to think that I had nothing to lose by trying. So I began to fight. I became cognizant of things such as lighting, the nuances of cinematography, and well-placed props. Have you noticed during close-ups that I often rest my cheek on my hand? Or that the right side of my face is shown instead of my left? The other scars are easily concealed with lipstick and brow makeup. By being stubborn and not taking no for an answer, I found ways to exist in my chosen path. Two years after the accident I made my way back onto the screen and appeared in thirteen short films that year alone. I didn’t give up my dreams. Nor should you.
You’ll have to fight for it, maybe really hard. But the young woman I remember from the ranch is a fighter.
You have my full support and my love,
Carole Lombard
Alice held the letter atop her chest. Then she read Carole’s words again. And again.
It was no secret Alice revered film stars. Many came from humble beginnings. Many were turned down a hundred times before hearing their first yes. As they acted, they were so much more than pretty faces. They were transportive. Carole’s flicks had taken Alice to horse races, train robberies, mining fields. They made her laugh, made her cry, and kept her on the edge of her seat.
Alice marveled again how life could be altered in an instant. It happened during Carole’s accident. It happened when the doctor said Alice would never play again.
But it also happened when Carole decided to fight.
Alice wanted to fight too.
* * *
“Rise and shine,” Teach said after a quick knock-knock on the door’s wood frame.
Only two steps into Alice’s bungalow she stopped in her tracks. Her face lit up with surprise, confusion, and a hint of delight.
“Going somewhere?” she asked Alice, who sat on the edge of her bed.
At Alice’s feet were her suitcases and her racquet. “Didn’t you say we were flying this coop?”
One side of Teach’s lip curled into a smile. “Yes, but that was quite a few months ago.”
“Exactly.”
“Did I miss something? Did the doctors clear you to leave?”
“Not exactly.”
“Are you feeling better?”
Alice threw up her hands. “Who knows? It’s hard to tell if I’m improving or not when I’m not allowed to leave this bed.”
“The doctors do tests weekly.”
“I haven’t seen the results, have you? All they do is keep adding on more time. You keep paying the bill. Feels like we could do this forever. I’m never going to get well here.”
“So you packed your bags?”
“Your eyes work.”
“And apparently your wit works again, Allie.”
Alice smiled. She didn’t know her lips could even move that way anymore. “I’ve decided to fight.”
“Did you now,” Teach said, the words quiet. She clucked. She rubbed her lips together. She clicked her tongue a final time. “I’ll make you a deal. If you can make it to the car, we’ll leave today. Right now.”
Alice nodded. Her coat was already on. She bent to pick up her bags, but Teach slapped her hand away. “I’ve got those.”
And what a feeling it was to know Teach still had her back. But when Teach tried to support Alice’s elbow, Alice shook her off. “I can do this.”
At that, Alice squared her shoulders and took her first steps toward the door. She shuffled as quickly as her weak body could go. “I feel like Carole Lombard when she played a secret agent.”
Teach laughed loudly.
“Shh,” Alice said, already short of breath. At any moment, she expected one of the nurses to stop them from their escape. “Where’s the car?”
“Around the bend.”
A bend had never felt so long. Alice’s breath was no longer short but completely labored. Her vision began to blur.
“Oh no you don’t,” Teach said as Alice began to buckle. “Let me help you fight.”
Teach guided Alice the final steps, propping her against the car’s side while she opened the passenger door. “In you go,” she said.
Alice fell inside. Teach’s coat appeared on her lap.
Behind the wheel, Teach fumbled with her keys. “Am I allowed to laugh yet? I feel like I’m breaking the law by busting you out of here.”
Shivering now, her body depleted, Alice motioned for Teach to have at it. Teach did just that, bellowing out a nervous laugh as she navigated them down the winding roads, past the beautiful gardens, away from the mountains and the sea. Alice closed her eyes, feeling hopeful for the first time in many months.