The Seventh Impossible Thing: Chapter One
I sometimes believe in six impossible things before breakfast.
Underland had returned to his usual (unusual) verdant state. Lush grasses had re-grown across fields, blue cotton candy treetops had seemingly sprung from the gray scorched branches, and the velvet skies had never looked so vibrant. The kingdom, once again under the rightful rule of the White Queen, was recovering and rebuilding at an alarming pace. But after such an extensive amount of time trembling under the tyranny of the Red Queen, it only made sense for the creatures of Underland to be eager in their efforts to restore their beloved home to the way it once was; a wonderful place worthy of a young girl’s title of “Wonderland”.
Alas, not all of Underland was convalescing. The flowers near the dilapidated windmill still seemed to wilt, yellow and orange colors faded and heads hung. The mushrooms’ caps still deflated, causing their tops to dimple. And the sweet Rose Tea was growing cold.
There it sat in a chipped and slightly stained tea cup, untouched. Abnormally large, green eyes gazed into its pinkish-orange depths. Fingers bandaged and scarred from years of their trade gently rotated said cup in its saucer round and round and round. The Hatter ceased his actions abruptly and his eyes darted to the seat beside him.
Empty as always.
He supposed it was his madness that caused him to think someone was there. No one was ever there. Why would someone suddenly appear now? The Hatter sank back into his plush green chair, reaching forward to continue his cup spinning.
He stopped again.
Leaning awkwardly forward over the table, neck extended, he peered into the tea cup at the other place setting, nearly upsetting his own tea in the process. He retracted a little, raising a bandaged digit to his chin in consideration. The finger dropped and he stretched forward again. His hands searched for the teapot, knocking over this and that and causing a clatter until they rested upon its handle and spout. He tipped the pot ever so slightly over the cup, the cold liquid rolling down the spout and pooling into a drop at the tip. The drop twitched and just before it lost its grip on the porcelain teapot the Hatter pulled the pot back into its upright position, deciding last minute against his previous assumption that the teacup belonging to the vacant spot wasn’t filled enough.
He settled back into his seat, returning the teapot to its place on the crowded tabletop. Every time he thought of taking a sip of from his tea, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. No matter how parched he became or how he thought it was losing its warmth, he refused to drink from the Rose Tea poured for him and his guest. At least until his guest arrived.
…If his guest would arrive.
The Hatter rummaged his pockets for his watch. Amongst needles and pins and spools of thread he found it and pulled it from his mess of tools. The cover sprung open and he dangled it in front of his face by the chain. His guest was late; Very late. He sighed, depositing his watch back into the pocket it came from. Late for tea…Well, it wasn’t an unusual habit for his guest. He needn’t be concerned over the fact his guest was so terribly late; oh so terribly late.
…Perhaps his watch was broken again.
Regardless, all he could do was wait. And so the Hatter did. He waited with cold Rose Tea and stale, hard scones for his guest to arrive at his “Mad Tea Party”.
Round and round and round he twirled the teacup, staring and staring and staring into the liquid, lost in his mad, mad, mad mind…
And that was when the bushes rustled.
The Hatter perked up in his chair. “Hello?” He called out, hand dropping from his cup and eyes shining with anticipation. He waited silently for a reply. Much to his disappointment, none came. “Is anyone there?” He tried again. Though now he was starting to think it was merely a pair of troublesome lightning birds; twinkling their lights at each other within the purple bushes. The Hatter sighed, sinking backwards further into his cushions than he had before. She would come, wouldn’t she? She had said so herself that she would see him again - unless, maybe it was his madness playing cruel tricks. Maybe he had been waiting here for nothing, waiting for hours, no, days.
…or was it weeks? Months? Could it have possibly been years since he last-
“Ouch!” The bushes shook again followed by an angry huff. “Hatter? Hatter, are you there?”
The Hatter pushed back his chair, jumping to his feet. “Alice?” A quirky grin spread across his pale face as he spotted the familiar blue skirt and mess of golden curls. “Alice!” Swiftly, the Hatter vaulted onto the table - missing his prepared place settings by mere centimeters - and dashed across the tabletop; crushing saucers, spilling milk, dumping sugar cubes, shaking the mismatched tables so much the silverware jangled and leapt off the table.
The Hatter hopped off the end and landed rather clumsily before the girl. He wet his dry lips, searching for something to say; for as suddenly as he had landed before Alice, all thought had vanished from his mind. "You are late for tea."
"It seems I'm always late for tea." Alice replied thoughtfully, tapping her chin with a slender finger. "That’s three times now I think..."
"Three or three hundred, late or on time - I am always glad to have you." The Hatter answered, odd smile growing to almost Cheshire proportions.
Alice’s lips widened in return, girlish dimples not quite lost in age. “It is always a pleasure to be invited.”
The pair stood there; Alice, tugging anxiously on the sides of her dress; The Hatter, removing his top hat from his orange head and fiddling with the dusky band.
The girl looked round the man in front of her and eyed the vacant table. “May I sit?”
The Hatter blinked. “Huh? Oh, yes, yes! Please!” He dramatically twirled the hand holding his hat and bowed deeply, extending the other arm in an ushering gesture. “A seat for the lovely Alice.”
The Hatter was at a lost for air when he was suddenly tackled by Alice. He staggered backwards a step or two, dropping his hat in surprise. Alice’s small arms wrapped around his neck as she squeezed him in an embrace. “I’m sorry,” She murmured after a moment, “That was rather improper of me.”
“Ah…” The Hatter was a bit lost, having been caught off guard. “No, no!” He finally stammered. “It’s quite alright!” He slid his arms around her slender waist and lifted her off the ground, swirling her in a circle through the air. She let out a startled cry that faded into laughter. “In fact, it is more than quite alright; you’re welcome to tackle, cling, embrace, hug, squeeze, crush, strangle though I suppose you would have to be angry-.”
“Hatter.” Alice called him back to attention with a firm voice.
He blinked twice before whispering, “I’m fine.” He cleared his throat, his eyes never leaving Alice’s smiling face. “Anyway, there is nothing improper about it. And while we’re on the subject of improper…” He stooped down to replace his hat on his head and then leapt onto the table once again, offering a hand to the girl and pulling her up beside him. “Allow me to escort you to your seat, my dear.”
Hand in hand, the Hatter led her back down the table. He brazenly sprinted through the tableware, knocking over objects that had escaped his earlier romping, while Alice hurriedly tip-toed around milk pitchers and sugar bowls, not wanting to overturn anything while keeping up with the Hatter. For certain those poor tables would give out someday.
The Hatter lifted Alice off the table and gently set her in her seat before settling into his own. “It’s Rose Tea.” He informed her as she brought the teacup to her lips. She stopped just before taking a sip and replaced the cup on its saucer.
“Where is Hare? And Mallymkun? It’s rather odd to not find them here at your table.” The girl looked around, confirming their absence.
“Off lending a hand - or paw, I suppose - in Underland’s reconstruction.” He snatched a spoon and began idly stirring his tea. “Everyone is. I imagine they are making marvelous progress…”
“Haven’t you seen it?” Alice interjected. “The progress, I mean.”
“In its early stages, while I was helping here and there.” The Hatter said quietly.
“Why ever did you stop?”
His green eyes cast downwards. Alice tilted her head to the side and gave her friend a quizzical stare.
“I… couldn’t help but feel that something was off. Something was missing…” He trailed off as he lifted his gaze from his swirling tea to Alice’s swirling brown eyes. “But that’s neither here nor there.” He quickly turned away, but was soon drawn back at the touch of a soft hand over his.
“I can tell it makes you uncomfortable. I won’t inquire any further.” She said gently.
“You are too kind, my dear Alice. Whatever did I do to deserve such generosity?” He offered her a genuine smile while he considered flipping his hand to hold hers in his palm. But she withdrew just as he found the courage to do so.
“Now, what about you?” He suddenly reversed the interrogation. “Things you had to do, questions still unanswered…I believe that’s where you left it last time.”
“I’ve done things. I continue to do things. And there are still some questions without answers.” Alice twiddled her gloved thumbs.
“How is a raven like a writing desk?”The Hatter asked with a toothy grin.
Alice smiled widely. “That’s one answer I’m still searching for.” She said with a laugh. The girl then began to elaborate on her previous statement. “I attained an apprenticeship. It’s with my father’s company. Well, it used to be my father’s; Lord Ascot is the head of it now. I convinced him to expand trade to China…oh, but I suppose you have no idea where that is, do you?” She added apologetically.
“Regardless of its location it sounds like a wondrous achievement!” The Hatter exclaimed. “I only wish I could say the same for myself.”
“What have you been doing, Hatter?” Alice prodded. “I’m curious. You said you helped the other creatures for a while, but then what? You have to have done something.”
“Ah, yes, well, I did nothing.” The Hatter nodded, more to reassure himself than Alice.
“Nothing?” The girl asked, appalled.
“Nothing.” The Hatter repeated, casting his gaze downward and fiddling with his mismatched silverware.
“Oh,” Alice murmured. “Oh dear, I said I wouldn’t pry didn’t I? I’m terribly sorry.” She covered her mouth. “Perhaps I should just…”
Wide, jade eyes snapped up, glued to the blonde. Leave? Was she considering leaving? She had only just arrived! And the Hatter so desperately wanted her to stay. They…well for one, they hadn’t even had tea yet.
A worried expression crept onto the man’s face. And Alice noticed the anxiety in his peculiar eyes. She felt her heart stumble as it beat in her chest. She couldn’t bear to see him with such a look of alarm. What had she said to upset him so? Alice scanned the area quickly, looking for something to distract from whatever it was she had said.
“My,” Her brown orbs fell upon the plate of scones. “those look awfully good. May I have one?”
The Hatter let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Of course, of course! That is what they’re there for after all.” A sense of relief washed over him knowing leaving wasn’t on her mind. He slumped back into the green plush of his chair.
Alice reached for the treat eagerly. She was quite hungry now that she thought about it. “Did you make these yourself?”
The Hatter laughed. “Me? Oh, no! Hare made these. He’s the cook, not I.” He continued to giggle at the thought of himself preparing any sort of food, never mind baking. “Now if baking scones were like millinery-.” He gasped suddenly, snatching Alice’s arm. “What happened?”
Alice blinked in surprise at being grabbed so unexpectedly. “That?” Both studied the gash on her forearm; Alice filled with only a fraction of the concern the Hatter was. “Ah, I got tangled in the brush on my way here. It’s nothing really.”
“But you’re bleeding.” The Hatter observed.
“Not enough to be troubled over.” Alice objected. “You’re acting as if it were a Bandersnatch scratch.” She frowned as the Hatter swiftly shifted positions at the table, sitting on her other side, to gain a closer look. His hand darted into his pockets and presented a scrap piece of fabric.
“We can’t have it getting infected.” He stated sternly as he wrapped the fabric ‘round her arm with care.
Alice scoffed, “Now you’re sounding like Mother.” She gazed at him tentatively while he tied both ends together in a perfect final knot.
“There.” The Hatter gave her bandage a gentle tap. “That should do for now.”
She found it rather amusing, noticing the scars and scrapes on his pale hands, that he was so frenzied over a mere scuff when he seemed to near neglect his own.
“Hatter?” Alice said suddenly, reaching out and grabbing the hand hovering over her bandage. The Hatter raised his fringed eyebrows.
But Alice merely sat there, mouth hanging open as if sound were to come out - except all words were stuck in the back of her throat. The Hatter blinked, waiting patiently. The girl drew in another breath for a second try at speaking, but her attempt was for naught. A wave of fluster crashed down over her head and her gaze suddenly danced from the table to the trees to the wilting flowers in the grass. “I…um…” She finally blurted, “What sort of tea did you say this was?” She jerked her arm away, the sensation of then man’s hand against her skin sending a pang of shame to every nerve.
“It’s…” He paused as he again switched seats, back to his original place. “Rose Tea.” He pursed his pink lips and stared silently into the depths of his drink.
Alice smiled politely as she gently grasped the cup in her hands. The teacup inches from her mouth, she stopped as she saw the Hatter who appeared to have been overshadowed by a rain cloud. Her eyes slipped down to look at her reflection in the dark orange liquid.
Alice, she told herself severely, there is no sense in tip-toeing around the issue. She very seldom followed her own advice…
“Hatter.” She addressed him, dropping the cup onto its saucer.
…but this was an exception.
“Do you remember me saying that I usually believe in six things before breakfast?” She paused, looking to the Hatter for some sort of response. When all she received was a curious stare, she continued. “Well, recently I’ve found myself believing in seven.” Alice took in another breath, slowly pushing forward through conversation. “At first I considered it silly to believe in such a thing. But then I thought…well, something is only impossible as long as you believe it is, right? So this seventh idea wasn’t as impossible as I had previously conceived.”
The Hatter furrowed his carroty brows. He followed her logic, but he was clueless as to what that logic was being applied to.
Alice spread her dainty hands flat on the table’s surface and studied them intently. “What I mean to say is…” Her lips twitched into a frown of frustration. Why couldn’t she simply spit it out? Her confession was tangled in a web of fear and worry, holding it back from spilling into the open.
For Goodness’ sake! She chastised. You’ve conquered impossible beasts, what is a little confession? But right then, she would’ve opted for a hundred Jaberwockys to be rid of the tightening in her chest, the rushing sound of blood in her ears and the constant barraging of her heart thump thump thump thump…
“Alice.” The quiet voice broke through her deliberating. Her head swiveled to look at the man to her left. Her trembling chocolate orbs were met with kind and warm emerald, quelling her swelling anxiety. “Whatever it is that is on your mind, you can tell me.”
Alice swallowed, nodding her head vigorously. “Yes. I just…need a moment.” She snatched up the teacup and took a large gulp.
She was suddenly taken aback by the unpleasant taste. A hand flew to her mouth to keep from instinctively spluttering it across the table. She forced it down her throat before scrunching her face in disgust. “Hatter, this tea is dreadfully cold. How long has this been sitting out?”
The Hatter laughed nervously, reaching to scratch the back of his head. “Oh, the tea? Let’s see…two…four…since I set these two places.”
“Yes, but how long ago was that?”
“…” His white cheeks grew hot. “A week after you left.”
The girl’s eyes widened. She glanced at the cup in her hands, then at the Hatter sheepishly playing with a sugar cube.
“…I have been sitting here ever since I poured it.” He added hesitantly.
His answer aroused a plethora of questions in her mind, but she chose to reply with a simple, “I see.”
“Alice?” The Hatter began, voice no louder than a whisper, “What was that seventh impossible idea?”
“The seventh impossible thing?” She placed her cup on the table top and pushed it away from her. Her head lifted and her eyes settled on him. “It was love.”
The Hatter dropped his sugar cube. He turned to her and their eyes locked in a moment of vulnerability; both hearts skipping a beat.
Alice broke eye contact, shying away behind a curtain of golden ringlets.
“Funny you should mention that.” The Hatter sighed, “I’ve been contemplating the very same topic.”
“R-really?” Alice flushed.
“Yes. Constantly.”
A silence fell between them; a comfortable silence. Each of them sitting and absorbing their puddles of newly discovered information. Relief replaced trepidation, albeit not totally. Admission was merely the beginning after all.
“Well,” Alice started, clearing her throat. “I should probably be on my way…” She rose to her feet. “I thank you very much for the tea party.” She pushed in her chair after her, then paused. She drummed her fingers on the back of the chair as she bit her lower lip in thought.
Alice stepped towards the Hatter, leaned down, and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
She flounced back in the direction from where she had come, but stopped to ask, “Hatter? Did you ever figure out what that “something missing” was?”
“Yes.” He answered slowly, slightly reeling from the sweet brush of her lips against his head. “It was you.”
Alice’s mouth widened into a beautiful smile and a light giggle escaped from behind her bright teeth. She turned, and the Hatter watched her swishing blue skirt and bouncing blonde curls retreat.
And he happened to notice the withering flowers in the grass looked just a bit more colorful.
Underland had returned to his usual (unusual) verdant state. Lush grasses had re-grown across fields, blue cotton candy treetops had seemingly sprung from the gray scorched branches, and the velvet skies had never looked so vibrant. The kingdom, once again under the rightful rule of the White Queen, was recovering and rebuilding at an alarming pace. But after such an extensive amount of time trembling under the tyranny of the Red Queen, it only made sense for the creatures of Underland to be eager in their efforts to restore their beloved home to the way it once was; a wonderful place worthy of a young girl’s title of “Wonderland”.
Alas, not all of Underland was convalescing. The flowers near the dilapidated windmill still seemed to wilt, yellow and orange colors faded and heads hung. The mushrooms’ caps still deflated, causing their tops to dimple. And the sweet Rose Tea was growing cold.
There it sat in a chipped and slightly stained tea cup, untouched. Abnormally large, green eyes gazed into its pinkish-orange depths. Fingers bandaged and scarred from years of their trade gently rotated said cup in its saucer round and round and round. The Hatter ceased his actions abruptly and his eyes darted to the seat beside him.
Empty as always.
He supposed it was his madness that caused him to think someone was there. No one was ever there. Why would someone suddenly appear now? The Hatter sank back into his plush green chair, reaching forward to continue his cup spinning.
He stopped again.
Leaning awkwardly forward over the table, neck extended, he peered into the tea cup at the other place setting, nearly upsetting his own tea in the process. He retracted a little, raising a bandaged digit to his chin in consideration. The finger dropped and he stretched forward again. His hands searched for the teapot, knocking over this and that and causing a clatter until they rested upon its handle and spout. He tipped the pot ever so slightly over the cup, the cold liquid rolling down the spout and pooling into a drop at the tip. The drop twitched and just before it lost its grip on the porcelain teapot the Hatter pulled the pot back into its upright position, deciding last minute against his previous assumption that the teacup belonging to the vacant spot wasn’t filled enough.
He settled back into his seat, returning the teapot to its place on the crowded tabletop. Every time he thought of taking a sip of from his tea, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. No matter how parched he became or how he thought it was losing its warmth, he refused to drink from the Rose Tea poured for him and his guest. At least until his guest arrived.
…If his guest would arrive.
The Hatter rummaged his pockets for his watch. Amongst needles and pins and spools of thread he found it and pulled it from his mess of tools. The cover sprung open and he dangled it in front of his face by the chain. His guest was late; Very late. He sighed, depositing his watch back into the pocket it came from. Late for tea…Well, it wasn’t an unusual habit for his guest. He needn’t be concerned over the fact his guest was so terribly late; oh so terribly late.
…Perhaps his watch was broken again.
Regardless, all he could do was wait. And so the Hatter did. He waited with cold Rose Tea and stale, hard scones for his guest to arrive at his “Mad Tea Party”.
Round and round and round he twirled the teacup, staring and staring and staring into the liquid, lost in his mad, mad, mad mind…
And that was when the bushes rustled.
The Hatter perked up in his chair. “Hello?” He called out, hand dropping from his cup and eyes shining with anticipation. He waited silently for a reply. Much to his disappointment, none came. “Is anyone there?” He tried again. Though now he was starting to think it was merely a pair of troublesome lightning birds; twinkling their lights at each other within the purple bushes. The Hatter sighed, sinking backwards further into his cushions than he had before. She would come, wouldn’t she? She had said so herself that she would see him again - unless, maybe it was his madness playing cruel tricks. Maybe he had been waiting here for nothing, waiting for hours, no, days.
…or was it weeks? Months? Could it have possibly been years since he last-
“Ouch!” The bushes shook again followed by an angry huff. “Hatter? Hatter, are you there?”
The Hatter pushed back his chair, jumping to his feet. “Alice?” A quirky grin spread across his pale face as he spotted the familiar blue skirt and mess of golden curls. “Alice!” Swiftly, the Hatter vaulted onto the table - missing his prepared place settings by mere centimeters - and dashed across the tabletop; crushing saucers, spilling milk, dumping sugar cubes, shaking the mismatched tables so much the silverware jangled and leapt off the table.
The Hatter hopped off the end and landed rather clumsily before the girl. He wet his dry lips, searching for something to say; for as suddenly as he had landed before Alice, all thought had vanished from his mind. "You are late for tea."
"It seems I'm always late for tea." Alice replied thoughtfully, tapping her chin with a slender finger. "That’s three times now I think..."
"Three or three hundred, late or on time - I am always glad to have you." The Hatter answered, odd smile growing to almost Cheshire proportions.
Alice’s lips widened in return, girlish dimples not quite lost in age. “It is always a pleasure to be invited.”
The pair stood there; Alice, tugging anxiously on the sides of her dress; The Hatter, removing his top hat from his orange head and fiddling with the dusky band.
The girl looked round the man in front of her and eyed the vacant table. “May I sit?”
The Hatter blinked. “Huh? Oh, yes, yes! Please!” He dramatically twirled the hand holding his hat and bowed deeply, extending the other arm in an ushering gesture. “A seat for the lovely Alice.”
The Hatter was at a lost for air when he was suddenly tackled by Alice. He staggered backwards a step or two, dropping his hat in surprise. Alice’s small arms wrapped around his neck as she squeezed him in an embrace. “I’m sorry,” She murmured after a moment, “That was rather improper of me.”
“Ah…” The Hatter was a bit lost, having been caught off guard. “No, no!” He finally stammered. “It’s quite alright!” He slid his arms around her slender waist and lifted her off the ground, swirling her in a circle through the air. She let out a startled cry that faded into laughter. “In fact, it is more than quite alright; you’re welcome to tackle, cling, embrace, hug, squeeze, crush, strangle though I suppose you would have to be angry-.”
“Hatter.” Alice called him back to attention with a firm voice.
He blinked twice before whispering, “I’m fine.” He cleared his throat, his eyes never leaving Alice’s smiling face. “Anyway, there is nothing improper about it. And while we’re on the subject of improper…” He stooped down to replace his hat on his head and then leapt onto the table once again, offering a hand to the girl and pulling her up beside him. “Allow me to escort you to your seat, my dear.”
Hand in hand, the Hatter led her back down the table. He brazenly sprinted through the tableware, knocking over objects that had escaped his earlier romping, while Alice hurriedly tip-toed around milk pitchers and sugar bowls, not wanting to overturn anything while keeping up with the Hatter. For certain those poor tables would give out someday.
The Hatter lifted Alice off the table and gently set her in her seat before settling into his own. “It’s Rose Tea.” He informed her as she brought the teacup to her lips. She stopped just before taking a sip and replaced the cup on its saucer.
“Where is Hare? And Mallymkun? It’s rather odd to not find them here at your table.” The girl looked around, confirming their absence.
“Off lending a hand - or paw, I suppose - in Underland’s reconstruction.” He snatched a spoon and began idly stirring his tea. “Everyone is. I imagine they are making marvelous progress…”
“Haven’t you seen it?” Alice interjected. “The progress, I mean.”
“In its early stages, while I was helping here and there.” The Hatter said quietly.
“Why ever did you stop?”
His green eyes cast downwards. Alice tilted her head to the side and gave her friend a quizzical stare.
“I… couldn’t help but feel that something was off. Something was missing…” He trailed off as he lifted his gaze from his swirling tea to Alice’s swirling brown eyes. “But that’s neither here nor there.” He quickly turned away, but was soon drawn back at the touch of a soft hand over his.
“I can tell it makes you uncomfortable. I won’t inquire any further.” She said gently.
“You are too kind, my dear Alice. Whatever did I do to deserve such generosity?” He offered her a genuine smile while he considered flipping his hand to hold hers in his palm. But she withdrew just as he found the courage to do so.
“Now, what about you?” He suddenly reversed the interrogation. “Things you had to do, questions still unanswered…I believe that’s where you left it last time.”
“I’ve done things. I continue to do things. And there are still some questions without answers.” Alice twiddled her gloved thumbs.
“How is a raven like a writing desk?”The Hatter asked with a toothy grin.
Alice smiled widely. “That’s one answer I’m still searching for.” She said with a laugh. The girl then began to elaborate on her previous statement. “I attained an apprenticeship. It’s with my father’s company. Well, it used to be my father’s; Lord Ascot is the head of it now. I convinced him to expand trade to China…oh, but I suppose you have no idea where that is, do you?” She added apologetically.
“Regardless of its location it sounds like a wondrous achievement!” The Hatter exclaimed. “I only wish I could say the same for myself.”
“What have you been doing, Hatter?” Alice prodded. “I’m curious. You said you helped the other creatures for a while, but then what? You have to have done something.”
“Ah, yes, well, I did nothing.” The Hatter nodded, more to reassure himself than Alice.
“Nothing?” The girl asked, appalled.
“Nothing.” The Hatter repeated, casting his gaze downward and fiddling with his mismatched silverware.
“Oh,” Alice murmured. “Oh dear, I said I wouldn’t pry didn’t I? I’m terribly sorry.” She covered her mouth. “Perhaps I should just…”
Wide, jade eyes snapped up, glued to the blonde. Leave? Was she considering leaving? She had only just arrived! And the Hatter so desperately wanted her to stay. They…well for one, they hadn’t even had tea yet.
A worried expression crept onto the man’s face. And Alice noticed the anxiety in his peculiar eyes. She felt her heart stumble as it beat in her chest. She couldn’t bear to see him with such a look of alarm. What had she said to upset him so? Alice scanned the area quickly, looking for something to distract from whatever it was she had said.
“My,” Her brown orbs fell upon the plate of scones. “those look awfully good. May I have one?”
The Hatter let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Of course, of course! That is what they’re there for after all.” A sense of relief washed over him knowing leaving wasn’t on her mind. He slumped back into the green plush of his chair.
Alice reached for the treat eagerly. She was quite hungry now that she thought about it. “Did you make these yourself?”
The Hatter laughed. “Me? Oh, no! Hare made these. He’s the cook, not I.” He continued to giggle at the thought of himself preparing any sort of food, never mind baking. “Now if baking scones were like millinery-.” He gasped suddenly, snatching Alice’s arm. “What happened?”
Alice blinked in surprise at being grabbed so unexpectedly. “That?” Both studied the gash on her forearm; Alice filled with only a fraction of the concern the Hatter was. “Ah, I got tangled in the brush on my way here. It’s nothing really.”
“But you’re bleeding.” The Hatter observed.
“Not enough to be troubled over.” Alice objected. “You’re acting as if it were a Bandersnatch scratch.” She frowned as the Hatter swiftly shifted positions at the table, sitting on her other side, to gain a closer look. His hand darted into his pockets and presented a scrap piece of fabric.
“We can’t have it getting infected.” He stated sternly as he wrapped the fabric ‘round her arm with care.
Alice scoffed, “Now you’re sounding like Mother.” She gazed at him tentatively while he tied both ends together in a perfect final knot.
“There.” The Hatter gave her bandage a gentle tap. “That should do for now.”
She found it rather amusing, noticing the scars and scrapes on his pale hands, that he was so frenzied over a mere scuff when he seemed to near neglect his own.
“Hatter?” Alice said suddenly, reaching out and grabbing the hand hovering over her bandage. The Hatter raised his fringed eyebrows.
But Alice merely sat there, mouth hanging open as if sound were to come out - except all words were stuck in the back of her throat. The Hatter blinked, waiting patiently. The girl drew in another breath for a second try at speaking, but her attempt was for naught. A wave of fluster crashed down over her head and her gaze suddenly danced from the table to the trees to the wilting flowers in the grass. “I…um…” She finally blurted, “What sort of tea did you say this was?” She jerked her arm away, the sensation of then man’s hand against her skin sending a pang of shame to every nerve.
“It’s…” He paused as he again switched seats, back to his original place. “Rose Tea.” He pursed his pink lips and stared silently into the depths of his drink.
Alice smiled politely as she gently grasped the cup in her hands. The teacup inches from her mouth, she stopped as she saw the Hatter who appeared to have been overshadowed by a rain cloud. Her eyes slipped down to look at her reflection in the dark orange liquid.
Alice, she told herself severely, there is no sense in tip-toeing around the issue. She very seldom followed her own advice…
“Hatter.” She addressed him, dropping the cup onto its saucer.
…but this was an exception.
“Do you remember me saying that I usually believe in six things before breakfast?” She paused, looking to the Hatter for some sort of response. When all she received was a curious stare, she continued. “Well, recently I’ve found myself believing in seven.” Alice took in another breath, slowly pushing forward through conversation. “At first I considered it silly to believe in such a thing. But then I thought…well, something is only impossible as long as you believe it is, right? So this seventh idea wasn’t as impossible as I had previously conceived.”
The Hatter furrowed his carroty brows. He followed her logic, but he was clueless as to what that logic was being applied to.
Alice spread her dainty hands flat on the table’s surface and studied them intently. “What I mean to say is…” Her lips twitched into a frown of frustration. Why couldn’t she simply spit it out? Her confession was tangled in a web of fear and worry, holding it back from spilling into the open.
For Goodness’ sake! She chastised. You’ve conquered impossible beasts, what is a little confession? But right then, she would’ve opted for a hundred Jaberwockys to be rid of the tightening in her chest, the rushing sound of blood in her ears and the constant barraging of her heart thump thump thump thump…
“Alice.” The quiet voice broke through her deliberating. Her head swiveled to look at the man to her left. Her trembling chocolate orbs were met with kind and warm emerald, quelling her swelling anxiety. “Whatever it is that is on your mind, you can tell me.”
Alice swallowed, nodding her head vigorously. “Yes. I just…need a moment.” She snatched up the teacup and took a large gulp.
She was suddenly taken aback by the unpleasant taste. A hand flew to her mouth to keep from instinctively spluttering it across the table. She forced it down her throat before scrunching her face in disgust. “Hatter, this tea is dreadfully cold. How long has this been sitting out?”
The Hatter laughed nervously, reaching to scratch the back of his head. “Oh, the tea? Let’s see…two…four…since I set these two places.”
“Yes, but how long ago was that?”
“…” His white cheeks grew hot. “A week after you left.”
The girl’s eyes widened. She glanced at the cup in her hands, then at the Hatter sheepishly playing with a sugar cube.
“…I have been sitting here ever since I poured it.” He added hesitantly.
His answer aroused a plethora of questions in her mind, but she chose to reply with a simple, “I see.”
“Alice?” The Hatter began, voice no louder than a whisper, “What was that seventh impossible idea?”
“The seventh impossible thing?” She placed her cup on the table top and pushed it away from her. Her head lifted and her eyes settled on him. “It was love.”
The Hatter dropped his sugar cube. He turned to her and their eyes locked in a moment of vulnerability; both hearts skipping a beat.
Alice broke eye contact, shying away behind a curtain of golden ringlets.
“Funny you should mention that.” The Hatter sighed, “I’ve been contemplating the very same topic.”
“R-really?” Alice flushed.
“Yes. Constantly.”
A silence fell between them; a comfortable silence. Each of them sitting and absorbing their puddles of newly discovered information. Relief replaced trepidation, albeit not totally. Admission was merely the beginning after all.
“Well,” Alice started, clearing her throat. “I should probably be on my way…” She rose to her feet. “I thank you very much for the tea party.” She pushed in her chair after her, then paused. She drummed her fingers on the back of the chair as she bit her lower lip in thought.
Alice stepped towards the Hatter, leaned down, and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
She flounced back in the direction from where she had come, but stopped to ask, “Hatter? Did you ever figure out what that “something missing” was?”
“Yes.” He answered slowly, slightly reeling from the sweet brush of her lips against his head. “It was you.”
Alice’s mouth widened into a beautiful smile and a light giggle escaped from behind her bright teeth. She turned, and the Hatter watched her swishing blue skirt and bouncing blonde curls retreat.
And he happened to notice the withering flowers in the grass looked just a bit more colorful.