Mad Love
by Adela M. Brito
Inspired by and reimagined from true events
Memphis, TN 1891 – 1892
“Alice…” Freda hesitated, then took a breath and spoke the words she’d been dreading to say aloud. “We cannot be together.”
Alice Mitchell, who’d been in a joyful state throughout Freda’s visit to Memphis, froze. Freda waited.
“Of course, we can,” Alice said, her eyes watering instantly. “We love each other. We’re bound together for all eternity. I cannot live without you.”
Freda knew Alice would react this way, and that’s why she hadn’t added anymore to her statement, though that is what she meant. “Dearest, don’t be so serious.” She got closer to Alice, who was leaning against a tree, and gently caressed her arm.
“But I am serious.” Alice straightened herself, her shoulders at attention. “I am extremely serious about our love. You are my life, my heart…my everything. You know this.”
Freda Ward, seventeen, had to be the adult in this moment and say what she thought would keep Alice calm. “I know. I don’t doubt our love, but I think…”
“What do you think? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t mean forever, but for a time, enough time for my sister to think we ended our relationship.”
“I am not concerned about what others think. No one knows how deep, how pure, our love is.”
“Alice, listen to me. I’m still under my sister’s supervision, and she calls our relationship unnatural, and your family might feel the same. I…”
Freda paused to choose her words carefully, to prevent Alice from having one of her nervous spells. “I think we need to pretend, only pretend, that it’s over.” Freda noticed the tension in Alice’s shoulders ease after she emphasized that the separation would not be real or permanent. “We’ll go through with our plan, but we must wait a bit.”
Recently, Alice had devised a plot for the two of them to run away to St. Louis, almost three hundred miles from Memphis. There, they could be together in the open. Alice would cut her long dark hair, dress in male garments, do whatever she needed to do to pass as a man and work to support them. Freda had agreed to it, and Alice even presented Freda with a ring bearing their initials to seal the promise.
Alice’s relief lasted mere seconds. “What do you mean by wait a bit? How much time?”
“Until I am older, no longer my sister’s responsibility,” said Freda.
“An entire year? No, no, no. I will die without you.” Alice’s hands trembled as she spoke.
Since Freda’s family moved to Gold Dust—about eighty miles north and on the banks of the Mississippi—the girls had corresponded through letters. Between visits that lasted two weeks at a time, eighteen-year-old Alice would read and reread Freda’s letters. At night, she would press the pile, held together with string, against her heart. Most of the time, this would calm her down, other times she’d become upset and scream and cry into her pillow. These times of separation had already been unbearable for her; she’d enclose herself in her room for hours and hours and barely interact with her family. Now, matters would only be worse.
“You mustn’t get anxious about this. The time will pass quickly.”
“No, no, it won’t. That is enough time for you to…to…to forget about me. I am dreading it already.”
“I won’t forget you.” Freda touched Alice’s hands gently to affirm her words.
“Do you promise?” Alice’s hands tightened around Freda’s.
“Yes, I promise.”
With an even tighter grip, Alice asked, “Do you swear on—”
“Stop it, Alice! I already promised.” Freda managed to pull her hands out of Alice’s grip.
“Forgive me, my love, forgive me.” Alice’s eyes teared again. “I’m simply afraid.”
“Don’t be. When I feel the time is right, I’ll come for you. Please be patient.”
“I will try,” Alice said, almost in a whisper and with her chin hanging against her chest, like a scolded child.
Relieved enough, Freda said, “I must go now. My sister will be waiting for me to depart on the four o’clock steamboat.”
Once again, Alice grasped Freda’s hands too tightly to prevent her from walking away. “I have an idea. Write to me at my brother’s house. Frank is on our side and will give me the letters.” She released Freda. “I’ll write down his address. Wait. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Alice rushed around the corner of the house and headed to the back door. In case her mother was in the kitchen, she opened and closed the door noiselessly—almost holding her breath to keep from making a sound. The room was empty, with everything cleaned up and stored away. She tiptoed to where scraps of paper and a pencil lay on a small table in the corner and scribbled her brother’s address on one of them. She folded it in half and placed it between her thumb and index finger, then hurried to the door with careless excitement. The door made a loud bang, and her heart pounced. She sped around the corner, only to discover Freda was not where she had left her. Under their special tree.
Where they had proclaimed their love for one another on a few occasions.
Holding up her long skirt, Alice rushed to the corner, kicking dirt into her petticoat. No sign of her beloved. She turned around and raced to the next corner, passing her own home on the way. Nothing. Bent over with her hands on her knees, she allowed tears to finally flow. The tears turned to sobs that emptied her chest of air. The scrap of paper with her brother’s address fell from her hand. She straightened up and kicked dirt on it. Then looking up, as if whispering to God: “I do not want to wait. I want to start my life with her now.” Within seconds, a strange calm answered her pining as she realized her future with Freda would be worth the wait.
Alice remained in hopeful spirits the rest of the day and had a good night’s sleep. To Mrs. Mitchell’s surprise, she was cheerful in the morning and willingly helped around the house. This outlook lasted almost two weeks, about the time it usually took to receive word directly from Freda in a letter or from her aunt who Alice would see at the market sometimes, and, who in the past, informed her if she’d heard from the relatives in Gold Dust.
Two weeks turned into a month, into summer’s end. Alice read Freda’s letter, wrote some of her own, then tore them up. The leaves changed colors and fell. The autumn chill kept Alice in bed most days. In late November, Mrs. Mitchell prepared a feast for Alice’s 19th birthday, which made Alice feel loved for a few hours. Christmas arrived, and while Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell made the holiday festive with food and gifts of all kinds, nothing livened Alice’s spirits.
January was bitter cold, and so was Alice’s state of mind. She could not wait for Freda any longer, didn’t want to continue leading this empty lonely life. One morning, after she heard her father leave the house, she sneaked into her parents’ room and from her father’s grooming table, where a large water bowl, hair comb, and towels lay, she shakily grabbed his shaving blade and hid it in the folds of her dress. For a few days, it remained hidden under her mattress, where she kept Freda’s letters.
“Freda is here?” Alice asked three times, after a neighbor informed her of the news.
“Yes, for several days already,” said the other young woman.
After collecting herself, Alice walked quickly and confidently to Freda’s aunt’s home and knocked on the door. As soon as the door was opened, Alice was told Freda was not available for visitors. A couple of days later, Alice returned with a letter and handed it to the woman. The following day, the letter appeared on Alice’s doorstep. Marked Returned. In Freda’s handwriting. There was something else in the envelope. The ring with their initials on it.
In the darkness of her room, Alice stroked the smooth side of her father’s blade over and over again. She considered cutting all her hair off, then cutting herself. Everyone would know how being separated from her love was going to end her life one way or another.
“She has abandoned me, doesn’t love me anymore. She’s going to betray me, marry a man. But that cannot happen, I won’t let that happen. She broke our pact.” After rambling these words repeatedly and crying most of the night, she somehow fell asleep.
As the sun ascended, her eyes opened, and she made her decision. “On the exact day of her departure, I will know. I will feel it, and I will go to her before she boards the steamer. It’s their custom to leave on the four o’clock boat, and she cannot avoid me out in the open.”
When that day arrived, two days later, Alice suggested to her friend Lillie Johnson to go for a ride in the young woman’s buggy horse.
Memphis, TN 1891 – 1892
“Alice…” Freda hesitated, then took a breath and spoke the words she’d been dreading to say aloud. “We cannot be together.”
Alice Mitchell, who’d been in a joyful state throughout Freda’s visit to Memphis, froze. Freda waited.
“Of course, we can,” Alice said, her eyes watering instantly. “We love each other. We’re bound together for all eternity. I cannot live without you.”
Freda knew Alice would react this way, and that’s why she hadn’t added anymore to her statement, though that is what she meant. “Dearest, don’t be so serious.” She got closer to Alice, who was leaning against a tree, and gently caressed her arm.
“But I am serious.” Alice straightened herself, her shoulders at attention. “I am extremely serious about our love. You are my life, my heart…my everything. You know this.”
Freda Ward, seventeen, had to be the adult in this moment and say what she thought would keep Alice calm. “I know. I don’t doubt our love, but I think…”
“What do you think? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t mean forever, but for a time, enough time for my sister to think we ended our relationship.”
“I am not concerned about what others think. No one knows how deep, how pure, our love is.”
“Alice, listen to me. I’m still under my sister’s supervision, and she calls our relationship unnatural, and your family might feel the same. I…”
Freda paused to choose her words carefully, to prevent Alice from having one of her nervous spells. “I think we need to pretend, only pretend, that it’s over.” Freda noticed the tension in Alice’s shoulders ease after she emphasized that the separation would not be real or permanent. “We’ll go through with our plan, but we must wait a bit.”
Recently, Alice had devised a plot for the two of them to run away to St. Louis, almost three hundred miles from Memphis. There, they could be together in the open. Alice would cut her long dark hair, dress in male garments, do whatever she needed to do to pass as a man and work to support them. Freda had agreed to it, and Alice even presented Freda with a ring bearing their initials to seal the promise.
Alice’s relief lasted mere seconds. “What do you mean by wait a bit? How much time?”
“Until I am older, no longer my sister’s responsibility,” said Freda.
“An entire year? No, no, no. I will die without you.” Alice’s hands trembled as she spoke.
Since Freda’s family moved to Gold Dust—about eighty miles north and on the banks of the Mississippi—the girls had corresponded through letters. Between visits that lasted two weeks at a time, eighteen-year-old Alice would read and reread Freda’s letters. At night, she would press the pile, held together with string, against her heart. Most of the time, this would calm her down, other times she’d become upset and scream and cry into her pillow. These times of separation had already been unbearable for her; she’d enclose herself in her room for hours and hours and barely interact with her family. Now, matters would only be worse.
“You mustn’t get anxious about this. The time will pass quickly.”
“No, no, it won’t. That is enough time for you to…to…to forget about me. I am dreading it already.”
“I won’t forget you.” Freda touched Alice’s hands gently to affirm her words.
“Do you promise?” Alice’s hands tightened around Freda’s.
“Yes, I promise.”
With an even tighter grip, Alice asked, “Do you swear on—”
“Stop it, Alice! I already promised.” Freda managed to pull her hands out of Alice’s grip.
“Forgive me, my love, forgive me.” Alice’s eyes teared again. “I’m simply afraid.”
“Don’t be. When I feel the time is right, I’ll come for you. Please be patient.”
“I will try,” Alice said, almost in a whisper and with her chin hanging against her chest, like a scolded child.
Relieved enough, Freda said, “I must go now. My sister will be waiting for me to depart on the four o’clock steamboat.”
Once again, Alice grasped Freda’s hands too tightly to prevent her from walking away. “I have an idea. Write to me at my brother’s house. Frank is on our side and will give me the letters.” She released Freda. “I’ll write down his address. Wait. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Alice rushed around the corner of the house and headed to the back door. In case her mother was in the kitchen, she opened and closed the door noiselessly—almost holding her breath to keep from making a sound. The room was empty, with everything cleaned up and stored away. She tiptoed to where scraps of paper and a pencil lay on a small table in the corner and scribbled her brother’s address on one of them. She folded it in half and placed it between her thumb and index finger, then hurried to the door with careless excitement. The door made a loud bang, and her heart pounced. She sped around the corner, only to discover Freda was not where she had left her. Under their special tree.
Where they had proclaimed their love for one another on a few occasions.
Holding up her long skirt, Alice rushed to the corner, kicking dirt into her petticoat. No sign of her beloved. She turned around and raced to the next corner, passing her own home on the way. Nothing. Bent over with her hands on her knees, she allowed tears to finally flow. The tears turned to sobs that emptied her chest of air. The scrap of paper with her brother’s address fell from her hand. She straightened up and kicked dirt on it. Then looking up, as if whispering to God: “I do not want to wait. I want to start my life with her now.” Within seconds, a strange calm answered her pining as she realized her future with Freda would be worth the wait.
Alice remained in hopeful spirits the rest of the day and had a good night’s sleep. To Mrs. Mitchell’s surprise, she was cheerful in the morning and willingly helped around the house. This outlook lasted almost two weeks, about the time it usually took to receive word directly from Freda in a letter or from her aunt who Alice would see at the market sometimes, and, who in the past, informed her if she’d heard from the relatives in Gold Dust.
Two weeks turned into a month, into summer’s end. Alice read Freda’s letter, wrote some of her own, then tore them up. The leaves changed colors and fell. The autumn chill kept Alice in bed most days. In late November, Mrs. Mitchell prepared a feast for Alice’s 19th birthday, which made Alice feel loved for a few hours. Christmas arrived, and while Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell made the holiday festive with food and gifts of all kinds, nothing livened Alice’s spirits.
January was bitter cold, and so was Alice’s state of mind. She could not wait for Freda any longer, didn’t want to continue leading this empty lonely life. One morning, after she heard her father leave the house, she sneaked into her parents’ room and from her father’s grooming table, where a large water bowl, hair comb, and towels lay, she shakily grabbed his shaving blade and hid it in the folds of her dress. For a few days, it remained hidden under her mattress, where she kept Freda’s letters.
“Freda is here?” Alice asked three times, after a neighbor informed her of the news.
“Yes, for several days already,” said the other young woman.
After collecting herself, Alice walked quickly and confidently to Freda’s aunt’s home and knocked on the door. As soon as the door was opened, Alice was told Freda was not available for visitors. A couple of days later, Alice returned with a letter and handed it to the woman. The following day, the letter appeared on Alice’s doorstep. Marked Returned. In Freda’s handwriting. There was something else in the envelope. The ring with their initials on it.
In the darkness of her room, Alice stroked the smooth side of her father’s blade over and over again. She considered cutting all her hair off, then cutting herself. Everyone would know how being separated from her love was going to end her life one way or another.
“She has abandoned me, doesn’t love me anymore. She’s going to betray me, marry a man. But that cannot happen, I won’t let that happen. She broke our pact.” After rambling these words repeatedly and crying most of the night, she somehow fell asleep.
As the sun ascended, her eyes opened, and she made her decision. “On the exact day of her departure, I will know. I will feel it, and I will go to her before she boards the steamer. It’s their custom to leave on the four o’clock boat, and she cannot avoid me out in the open.”
When that day arrived, two days later, Alice suggested to her friend Lillie Johnson to go for a ride in the young woman’s buggy horse.
“I loved Freda desperately, better than anyone in the world. I could not live without her. Long ago, we made a pact that if we should ever be separated, we should kill each other. When she was forbidden to speak to me, I knew of nothing else but to kill her,” Alice told the officers at the jailhouse when asked why she had slashed Freda’s throat that afternoon.
Alice did not return to her home after her arrest, and, in that jail, she remained until her fate was decided six months later.
“Foreman, please rise and read the jury’s verdict,” said Judge DuBose.
A man stood up and cleared his throat. From the corner of his eye, he could see Alice staring straight at him. He looked down at his paper and cleared his throat again, then read the verdict that he and the other men in the jury had taken a mere fifteen minutes to agree on. “We the jury, find the defendant, Alice Mitchell, insane and believe it would endanger the safety of the community to set her at liberty.”
Alice did not flinch and was not surprised. In fact, she thought a drastic switch in scenery might do her some good. Maybe the asylum would help her forget Freda, forget everyone, even forget herself.
In that moment, Alice decided she would welcome the change.
Alice did not return to her home after her arrest, and, in that jail, she remained until her fate was decided six months later.
“Foreman, please rise and read the jury’s verdict,” said Judge DuBose.
A man stood up and cleared his throat. From the corner of his eye, he could see Alice staring straight at him. He looked down at his paper and cleared his throat again, then read the verdict that he and the other men in the jury had taken a mere fifteen minutes to agree on. “We the jury, find the defendant, Alice Mitchell, insane and believe it would endanger the safety of the community to set her at liberty.”
Alice did not flinch and was not surprised. In fact, she thought a drastic switch in scenery might do her some good. Maybe the asylum would help her forget Freda, forget everyone, even forget herself.
In that moment, Alice decided she would welcome the change.
Adela M. Brito is a Cuban American writer whose fiction has appeared in The Acentos Review, Hieroglyph, Litbreak Magazine, Moko Magazine, and The Sandy River Review; her poetry, nonfiction, and numerous arts reviews have appeared in Novus Literary Journal, New Rhythm Zine, Compass Rose Literary Journal, Closed Eye Open, Cathexis Northwest Press, Storyboard Memphis, Underwood, Snip Magazine, All About Jazz, Counterculture UK, and EdgeNetwork. She holds an MFA and teaches literature and creative writing.