You are saying to yourself VALADILENNE YOU CRAZY BITCH WHY HAVE YOU BEEN HOLDING BACK?! and I'm like, "sry my bad". I wrote this while I was in Oxford for summer 2009.
The morning had come up clear and bright and cool, with the promise of warmth and sunshine, just as it did every time this particular morning arrived, but Alice was feeling a distinct sense of something like annoyance. She had taken her place at the end of the tea table and was a bit dismayed to discover that it had grown about a hundred yards in the middle of the night. This would not spoil such fine weather on such a nice day. She was absolutely determined.
She called out to the Hatter again, and watched him lean forward, putting his elbow into what was probably a tray of almond croissants, and cup his ear.
"WHAT?!" he hollered for the third time. Alice grabbed a conical lampshade off a squat little tealight lamp and put it to her mouth like a megaphone.
"I SAID, I'M NOT CONTAGIOUS!" she cried, and the teacups around her rattled in outrage at being awoken like that. Alice was resolute that he should understand her, and sure now that he was just playing games. He knew it too, for he paused.
"HOW DO YOU KNOW?!" She made a sound like a wild cat, threw her napkin onto the table, and began stomping across the lawn, closing the distance between them. He scowled at her from where he had sunk deep into the wingback chair for protection.
"What are you doing," said Alice, deeply disapproving of the way he was shrinking back from her peevishly.
"Don't infect me," he replied.
"I'm not contagious!" she said loudly. "Take that napkin down from your face—there is nothing to be afraid of."
"I will not," came his resolute muffled reply. "It's bad enough that you're even here today, you know, but to come this closely to me..." his aqua eyes darted around at the chinaware at his end, "Now I'm going to have to disinfect all this, and bring out a new batch of pastries as well. I feel terribly sorry for you, but you must go, preferably now, otherwise I'm liable to catch it too. May I recommend that you spend the day under the covers and not come out until you're over this... little affliction?"
"Sorry for me, there's nothing to be sorry for, and even if it were catching, you wouldn't be sorry," said Alice a bit viciously, and stomped back down to her end of the table. When she got there, she turned and looked down at him where he was, sullenly wiping jam from his sleeve. She frowned, irritated that he had managed to ruin her good mood after all.
"YOU CAN'T CATCH A BIRTHDAY LIKE A COLD!" she shrieked at him for good measure. The Hatter started in his chair and gestured for her to go away, but Alice threw herself into her chair with finality and they sat like that for a while, sulking across the hundred yards at each other.
By noon, though, it was clear that Alice was winning. She cupped her hand over the March Hare's little head and rubbed back and forth, soothing his long ears and making him practically curl up with happiness.
"It is a lovely watch," she said again, putting it around her like a necklace, "I've always wanted one that told me important meals and teas instead of the actual hours."
If she had thought it surprising that the March Hare and not the White Rabbit had given her the little brass and gold clock, the pale page himself had bounced past in his usual hysterics, describing his lateness to what sounded like a lawn bowling tournament, and deposited several lengths of cornflower blue ribbon on the arm of her chair before blustering away again.
A large tray of jam tarts had been borne to her by the Seven of Hearts, who had a very regal bearing despite the interesting purple stains near the corners of his mouth. Alice graciously overlooked the conspicuous hole amongst the pastry shells, thankful that the Queen hadn't sent an execution block and axe, and he bowed very low in what she suspected was relief before backing away. There were blackcurrants and quince and elderberry, and she tried one of each before the top came off the teapot nearby and the Dormouse blinked at her, all sleep and dreams.
"Pardon me, miss," he said in a wheezy voice, "But have you got a bit of sugar?" Alice kindly poured some in, and he clattered away before reappearing an hour later to set a little basket of marzipan birds on the edge of her saucer. Alice held up the dodo and decided as it was probably the last one ever that she shouldn't eat it. The eaglet and the lory were too sweet and tiny to eat, so she found it well and fine to admire them and nothing more.
Then there was a cup of something sludgy and brown from the Caterpillar which she smelled and pushed far away from her after he had gone, for it was shisha, no doubt. And after that, an inexplicable new badminton racket from the Tweedles (which made her wonder if the Queen was taking up a new hobby and this was her fair warning), along with a box of comfits and a thimble in a mysterious package marked LC, made up the remains of Alice's presents. At the end of all this, she sat most pleased, content that her friends and fellow citizens had wished her so nicely another birthday come and gone.
She dipped her finger into one of the jams and was trying to remember which flavor it was when a shadow fell over her and she looked up to find the Hatter sans coat, leaning against the corner of her end, his arms crossed and looking out over the lawn. Alice was inclined to easily forgive him, but he did not look especially contrite or embarrassed that she had got her birthday over his objections after all—in fact, he had a mysterious and unreadable expression, and she paused, dropping her finger from between her lips, and just looked at him.
He looked at the jam tarts, and then looked at Alice.
"You can have one, you know, if you like," she ventured. He twined his fingers together and sighed.
"I don't like birthdays," he said quietly at last.
"Why not? They're so much fun."
"Because," said the Hatter in that same soft tone, "They only come and go once a year, and then you spend every other day without the gifts and party."
"But that's what makes them so lovely, is the build up." There was a pause, and the pigeons in the chestnut tree by the table cooed to themselves, pretending to not be eavesdropping on the pair's conversation.
"It's so much nicer to have unbirthdays always," he said. "Every day you celebrate being another day older, and not another year—it's so much easier that way. I never forget anyone's unbirthday."
"I shouldn't be angry if you had forgotten my birthday," said Alice. Perhaps this was what he was so stormy over? Or perhaps she was hoping it was that simple. She only wanted happiness today, and not just for herself, but everyone, so everything would be pleasant and memorable. "Do let's not fight; I had rather you take tea with me and enjoy some of these jam tarts."
"I do have a present for you," he said, and Alice gave him the once over. There was no hatbox beneath the table, she could guess, no bunch of flowers hidden behind his back, and certainly no necklaces or needle sets or candlesticks even, and she wondered what he was at. He leaned forward from the table down into her chair, and the thought came to her that he was going to kiss her, but he kept going, and spoke very low into her ear and then slowly sat back again.
What he had said to her was quite surprising, and it was not an expression of love or even a murmured happy birthday Alice. She was stunned, even, into a tidy silence. They sat for a few moments and listened to the pigeons rustling around, for they too were quite anxious to know what the Hatter had said to her.
"Is that--" she whispered, but he held up his hand.
"You won't tell anyone, will you?"
"Of course not, no." They were quiet once more as Alice absorbed what he had said to her.
"Shall we have a walk before supper, do you think?" he said, and Alice stood to take his arm before they went off into the back garden. The pigeons cooed after them inquisitively, but Alice merely gave them a passing glance. The awe in her surrounding this great mystery was humming forth into a delicious happiness, and Alice, turning a bit pink, bit her slowly curving lip with the knowledge he had bestowed upon her, entrusted to her and her alone, of his very own birthdate.