Alice looked at the reflection in the mirror.
She was dressed as her most famous namesake: A yellow dress with puffed sleeves covered by a white pinafore, tailored to match Tenniel’s first color illustrations.
When she said she was dressing as Alice in Wonderland for the Halloween party at work, Jasmine, her wife, had suggested a Sexy Alice, which (1) wouldn’t be appropriate for work and (2) wouldn’t be appropriate for Alice. Alice the person, that is, but also Alice in Wonderland.
When she’d told Dhani at work what her wife had said, Dhani said she should dress like American McGee Alice, complete with blood stains and a kitchen knife. Plastic if she must, stainless steel if she could. That would give Jasmine a clear message.
Then Benny had suggested a Hot Topic Alice, all black with leather and buckles, and goth makeup to match, but Dhani and Alice gave him a pair of annoyed looks which gave him the message, and he moved on.
For her, there was really only one Alice to be, the one from the original books. Not even the Disney version, with the yellow dress replaced with powder blue.
It was rare enough for her to be invited to Halloween parties as it was. It had been years; outside of her work, her friends circle pretty much consisted of Jasmine and her small set of close-knit friends, a group that had preceded Alice in Jasmine’s life, where she felt like an outsider, relegated to hanging out with the other spouses and significant others.
So it was important to her, going to the first Halloween party she’d been invited to on her own merits in as long as she could remember, even if it was just for work, that she show her authentic self. Not some commercial overlay, but the original Alice. As Tenniel and Carroll had intended her.
And looking at her reflection now, she marveled at the job she’d done. She was 36, but her reflection looked much younger. Her naturally blond hair was just straggly enough, held back by the cutely bowed headband. This was not the naïvely affable Alice of the Disney incarnation; like herself, this Alice was just annoyed enough with the world to have a scowl.
Alice stretched out a hand to her reflection, and wondered if the glass would part for her fingertips. Had she actually become the Alice of Wonderland? Who was the real Alice, anyway?
She stood there, her arm frozen in space, fingertips just an inch away from the glass, and her soul slid far away, until it was floating in the air above the house, looking down at the original Alice, her namesake, on the verge of embarking on a voyage through the looking-glass.
Time slipped into a stream, a river of tears filling up the bedroom, time being a swirl, a labyrinth, for Alice (whichever Alice it was) to ride through a filigree reality on.
Had it been five seconds? Five minutes? An hour? Time was meaningless, as Alice connected across 160 years to her original self.
And then:
Alice slowly blinked up at Jasmine, her head in Jasmine’s lap, her body curled into an angled ess across the bed, a cool compress on her forehead.
Jasmine, for her part, was dressed like her own Disney Princess namesake, sexier than Alice would have preferred for a work event, but she’d already lost that discussion.
“Are you back?” Jasmine asked.
“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m back.”
Jasmine smiled softly. “Good. I’m glad. But are you going to be okay for the party?”
Alice sat up, letting the wet washcloth fall to the floor. “I’m fine. It was just a momentary thing.”
Jasmine smirked. “It’s been ten minutes since I found you, and how long it was before that, I don’t know.”
“Fine. But I’m okay now.”
Jasmine give her a long, suspicious look. “Okay, if you say so. But I’m driving.”
Alice smiled tightly. “Yes, you certainly are.”