Free When Audrey Met Alice by Rebecca Behrens

There’s no distinction between when he is working and when he is in his home anymore. Even that handy glass partition between his offices and our residence doesn’t separate the two for him. I miss the time he used to have for us—did you know I used to demand that he carry me downstairs to breakfast every morning via a piggyback ride? I would stand at my doorway and bellow, “Now, pig!” and off we’d go. I’d sit in on his morning shave too, and in between swipes with the razor, he’d tell me tales of the wilderness out west. But he’d never tell me any stories related to my mother. He hasn’t spoken of her, to anyone, since the day she died. Bye told me once my father’s peculiar silence is because he feels such terrible guilt for remarrying. I suspect I must bring out that guilt in him too.
    So you can see that even before all the country wanted a piece of Alice, things between my parents and me were rocky. If anything, that discord spurs me to pursue what I want even more, and right now what I want is to eat up this attention with my silver spoon. And so I shall.
    To Thine Own Self Be True,
    Alice
    P.S. One dollar for the signature please!!!
    February 5, 1902
    Diary—
    Today I shan’t be writing of any of the foolish, selfish, or girlish things that normally fill my silly mind. For once all my attention is not on the needs and wants of “poor Alice” (do take notice). My darling brother Ted, my boon companion, is gravely sick. Off at school, he has taken ill with pneumonia. Father and Stepmother assure me that he will overcome it (“Ted’s a Tough, Alice. He’ll pull through this.”), but fear has stricken my heart. Perhaps I am prone to fearing that I will lose those whom I love—remember I never had the chance to know my sweet mother. I couldn’t bear it if anything were to happen to my dear brother. The Roosevelt children are split into neat little pairs: Ethel has Kermit, and the little ones Archie and Quentin have each other. Who will I have if I lose Ted? I am absolutely sick with worry and fear.
    When Archie had the measles and was confined to his room, Quentin begged a coachman in the White House to help him bring our beloved family pony, Algonquin, up in the elevator. Quentin knew that nothing would cause Archie to rally like a little quality time spent with his trusty steed. And he was right—from the minute tiny Quentin led Algonquin by the reins into his room, Archie was on the mend. Edith was livid when she discovered that there was not only a pony but a few road apples in her invalid son’s room.
    I want to do something similar for Ted—be the force that helps him heal. I begged Father to let me visit, but he refused. He said that Ted needs time to rest now and having visitors will only tire him. I will keep begging my father until I wear him into the ground. Perhaps, if no other option becomes available to me, I will steal Algonquin to get there.
    —Alice
    February 26, 1902
    Diary—
    First—Ted is fine and well now. My parents finally let me go to him. While he recuperated, he had great fun playing with Emily (whom I smuggled in my luggage) and me. We terrorized the poor nurses with Miss Spinach, slipping her in his soup bowl when they’d come to pick up his tray. We sent more dishes clattering to the floor than I could count.
    Now—the past three days have been an absolute dream! Yours truly got the honor of christening the Kaiser’s yacht. Can you imagine? The German Kaiser himself didn’t come to America for his new purchase, but dashing Prince Henry did. He arrived in Washington on the twenty-third. I didn’t see him then because I was far too busy preparing for my official duties, i.e., smashing wine bottle after bottle in Auntie Bye’s backyard. You see, due to my international popularity those planning the visit decided that I should be the one to crack a bottle of fine champagne against the side of the Meteor as part of the official yacht-christening ceremony. (What