Flowers for Algernon

When I woke up, I thought of Alice, and I had the same feeling of panic as in the dream. What am I afraid of? Something about the knife. I made myself a cup of coffee and smoked a cigarette. I’d never had a dream like it before, and I knew it was connected with my evening with Alice. I have begun to think of her in a different way. Free association is still difficult, because it’s hard not to control the direction of your thoughts… just to leave your mind open and let anything flow into it… ideas bubbling to the surface like a bubble bath… a woman bathing… a girl… Norma taking a bath… I am watching through the keyhole… and when she gets out of the tub to dry herself I see that her body is different from mine. Something is missing. Running down the hallway.. somebody chasing me… not a person… just a big flashing kitchen knife and I’m scared and crying but no voice comes out because my neck is cut and I’m bleeding…

“Mama, Charlie is peeking at me through the key. hole.. “ Why is she different? What happened to her?.., blood… bleeding… a dark cubbyhole…

Three blind mice… three blind mice, See how they runl See how they runt They all run after the farmer’s wife, She cut oft their tails with a carving knife, Did you ever see such a sight in your life, As three… blind… mice?

Charlie, alone in the kitchen early in the morning. Everyone else asleep, and he amuses himself playing with his spinner. One of the buttons pops off his shirt as he bends over, and it rolls across the intricate line-pattern of the kitchen linoleum. It rolls towards the bathroom and he follows, but then he loses it. Where is the button? He goes into the bathroom to find it. There is a closet in the bathroom where the clothes hamper is, and he likes to take out all the clothes and look at them. His father’s things and his mother’s… and Norma’s dresses. He would like to try them on and make believe he is Norma, but once when he did that his mother spanked him for it. There in the clothes hamper he finds Norma’s underwear with dried blood. What had she done wrong? He was terrified. Whoever had done it might come looking for him....

Why does a memory like that from childhood remain with me so strongly, and why does it frighten me now? Is it because of my feelings for Alice?

Thinking about it now, I can understand why I was taught to keep away from women. It was wrong for me to express my feelings to Alice. I have no right to think of a woman that way-not yet. But even as I write these words, something inside shouts that there is more. I’m a person. I was somebody before I went under the surgeon’s knife. And I have to love someone. “^ May 8 Even now that I have learned what has been going on behind Mr. Donner’s back, I find it hard to believe. I first noticed something was wrong during the rush hour two days ago. Gimpy was behind the counter wrapping a birthday cake for one of our regular customers-a cake that sells for $3 .95. But when Gimpy rang up the sale the register showed only $2 .95. I started to tell him he had made a mistake, but in the mirror behind the 60 counter I saw a wink and smile that passed from the customer to Gimpy and the answering smile on Gimpy’s face. And when the man took his change, I saw the flash of a large silver coin left behind in Gimpy’s hand, before his fingers closed on it, and the quick movement with which he slipped the half-dollar into his pocket.

“Charlie,” said a woman behind me, “are there any more of those cream-filled eclairs?”

“I’ll go back and find out.”

I was glad of the interruption because it gave me time to think about what I had seen. Certainly, Gimpy had not made a mistake. He had deliberately undercharged the customer, and there had been an understanding between them. I leaned limply against the wall not knowing what to do. Gimpy had worked for Mr. Donner for over fifteen years. Donner-who always treated his workers like close friends, like relatives-had invited Gimpy’s family to his house for dinner more than once. He often put Gimpy in charge of the shop when he had to go out, and I had heard stories of the times Donner gave Gimpy money to pay his wife’s hospital bills.

It was incredible that anyone would steal from such a man. There had to be some other explanation. Gimpy had really made a mistake in ringing up the sale, and the half-dollar was a tip. Or perhaps Mr. Donner had made some special arrangement for this one customer who regularly bought cream cakes. Anything rather than believe that Gimpy was stealing. Gimpy had always been so nice to me.

I no longer wanted to know. I kept my eyes averted from the register as I brought out the tray of eclairs and sorted out the cookies, buns, and cakes. But when the little red-haired woman came in the one who always pinched my cheek and joked about finding a girl friend for me-I recalled that she came in most often when Donner was out to lunch and Gimpy was behind the counter. Gimpy had often sent me out to deliver orders to her house.