When Evening Falls

Throughout life, there are painful decisions that we must make. These decisions come in all manner of shapes and sizes, but they all share one common denominator: no one ever explains to us how exactly we should handle these little problems, and we stumble along blindly attempting to do the best we can with what we've been given. Hours are spent trying to do the right thing, trying to make the best choice possible. After all, no one wants to be the one who shatters a dream or strips a child of his or her imagination. Then, after we've spent all this time coming to this decision, we skirt around the telling of it.

We like to put off the telling of these decisions for as long as possible. There are many varieties of excuses. Some are searching for the right time. Others seem to forget, and then there are the ones who hope the decision can just be made for them; however, the one thing we all seem to never remember is that problems seldom disappear of their own accord. Even in a world where all manner of strange and unusual things are possible, the problems never really go away. Like everything else, they are simply forgotten about until the initial shine has worn off, and we're faced with reality again.

In Wonderland, it is common practice to forget about any and all problems. The real inhabitants go about their daily business as if nothing is out of the ordinary, and truthfully, nothing ever really is. In a world where everyone is mad, it is rather difficult to pinpoint a normal day anyway. Yet, for any outsiders who may have stumbled upon this strange land, it becomes quite a struggle to continue on in a carefree existence when it isn't exactly carefree anymore. This has happened to Alice, and while she is no stranger to Wonderland, she certainly isn't part of it either. At least, she doesn't think so anymore.

Another strange part of Wonderland that you must understand is that the whole mood of the place seemed to change with the time of day. It was much easier for everyone to forget their troubles as bright sunlight filtered down through the trees casting its glowing light over the vibrant landscape, but as the night came and shadows begin to creep up through the cool grass clutching at their ankles, the insecurities and heartache seemed much more apparent. Really, everything is more sinister at night. Why would Wonderland be any exception?

As evening fell over the never-ending tea party and though nothing looked any different from any other night, Alice felt these very shadows closing in upon her. Though paper lanterns flickered lazily in the darkness, and Alice sat quietly at one end of the table while Reginald hummed merrily at the other, the illusion had been broken somehow. Maybe it had to do with the fact that her tea was now cold, but she still sipped at it as if she had just poured herself a new cup, or maybe it had to do with the fact that Reginald didn't seem to notice and continued along with blissful ignorance to the storm ahead. For whatever the reason, Wonderland could never be the same for her anymore.

Alice had a secret now, you see, and she had been bottling it up inside of her for quite some time. Though she had done her best to ignore it, the feeling continued to bubble up and up until it was choking her. She could do nothing else but think of it, and though no one else seemed to notice, Alice felt as though she were drowning under the weight of it all.

"I'm going back to England."

The words seemed to repeat themselves over and over in her mind growing louder each time. It was almost like they were begging her to say them, but she stubbornly kept her mouth shut. In some ways, it was much easier that way.

Alice knew this was not the time to speak of such serious subjects. One should never disturb a perfectly good tea party with grownup talk, but Alice was a grownup now. If she could not speak freely and could not speak her mind, then what else was there for her to talk about? One could only deal with so much, and Alice felt that with keeping this secret she was handling more than her fair share. In fact, in only a few short months, Alice had handled more than most could handle in an entire lifetime. She supposed the fact that Reginald was utterly mad contributed significantly to the situation, but up until this point, she had stubbornly ignored this tiny detail.

Really, Alice did not like to think of Reginald as mad at all. She rather liked to think of him as eccentric and unique. It was clear, however, that something about him was slightly off, and though she found it endearing, she also found it unbearable…at least, lately she did.

Some nights she sat up late into the early hours of the morning pondering over the beginning of their time together. It had been much easier then when he had playfully chased her and teased her. It had been easier when he had confessed over and over how much her adored her. Then, she could pretend that it didn't matter whether she ever saw him again or not. She could fake a frown at his antics. She could scold him for ruining her quiet afternoons. It was easier when he cared more for her than she did for him.

He continued on in his nightly ritual at the other end of the table oblivious to the thoughts in Alice's head, occasionally shouting at no one in particular and spouting all sorts of nonsense that normally made her giggle. Tonight, however, she could not find it within herself to be amused. She only felt hollow, and it was beginning to get the best of her.

Though Reginald tried so very hard and though he promised her so many things, Alice knew the truth. He couldn't connect with her, and it was this barrier that kept the distance between them. He, of course, didn't notice it, but as the days passed, it had become steadily clearer to Alice.

It had been easy to miss at first. The singing flowers and sweet candies had blinded her, as had the little gifts that he left at her doorstep for seemingly no reason. She had gotten lost in his odd charm and silly jokes. Now, however, those things had stopped. There were no more moonlit walks through the country, or special parties just to make her smile. It was the two of them, and the magic had worn off somehow though she had thought it never would.

Alice knew she would never find another like Reginald, yet she also knew that she would never be content living this way. Life in Wonderland could be rather beautiful, but something destructive lurked just underneath the surface threatening to pull her down and crush her beneath the hostile waves. It was almost like being lost in the woods and reveling in the sensation knowing all along that at some point in time night would fall and any hope of ever finding the way home again would be lost. Alice did not want to be lost anymore, and she finally mustered up as much courage as she could to deliver the blow.

"I'm going back to England," she said quietly.

Reginald gave almost no indication that he had heard her at first, but Alice knew he had by the tiny grimace that crossed his features. It was so quick that she barely caught it, but it had happened all the same. She wasn't sure what to do next, but a considerable weight had been lifted from her shoulders by finally voicing those words.

She cleared her throat, but he still did not outwardly acknowledge her. He was lost in his own world, and for a time, Alice had contently joined him there. She now felt as if she was watching life through a looking glass unable to fully experience it. It was much too difficult to live as a spectator. So many things were lost when one could only dream and imagine.

Reginald never seemed to notice any of these things. He had this odd ability to ignore any problem with a youthful innocence. Alice knew that deep down he was not naïve, but he played it so convincingly. Sometimes he reminded her of a child with a shiny new toy, but she did not want to be his shiny new toy anymore. She wanted to be so much more. Unfortunately, she didn't think he would be able to give her that now.

After a few moments, Alice cleared her throat again, and after a deep breath, finally opened her mouth to really speak. She hoped this would not be as painful as she had previously imagined, but a little voice in the back of her mind told her it would be just as she imagined and more.

"I know you must have noticed that something has been different lately," she continued. "I…I know now isn't exactly the perfect moment to say this, but I couldn't exactly call any moment the perfect opportunity."

He still did not reply, and Alice almost feared to continue speaking. She knew that something dark lurked within him, but she had never experienced it directly before and was reluctant to be the spark to unleash it. Still, she did not know what else to do and continued on anyway. Sometimes being near Reginald was like having a loaded pistol in one's mouth and liking the taste of metal.

"I should never have come back," she said. "I didn't mean for this to happen, you know. I just became so caught up in this place, and I…well, I don't know really."

His eyes were now looking directly into her own, and she did not know what to make of the hollow expression that resided within them.

"Reginald?" she questioned. "Are you listening?"

"Yes, little cricket?" he replied. "Did you say something?"

She knew he had heard her. There had been no way that he could've avoided it, but like always, he was content to ignore her. Alice sighed and tried once more.

"Yes, Reginald," she said. "I said that I was going home."

"Well, I suppose if you must," he replied. "I'll be happy to escort you."

He moved to stand, but Alice sadly shook her head. This caused another quick grimace to cross his features, and she knew in that moment that he knew exactly what was happening.

"No," she answered. "That's not what I meant."

He did not respond, but instead picked up a nearby teacup and sipped noisily from it. Alice did not know whether to speak again or wait for him to break the silence. She decided to wait, and it was several minutes before he said or did anything. Then, with the same hollow eyes, he set down his teacup and smiled.

"Well, my dear," he began, "if you would like to walk home in the dark, be my guest, but don't complain tomorrow if you find the trip less than satisfactory."

Another smile crossed his face, but it was unlike any smile he had given her before. It was lacking everything that made Reginald Reginald, and briefly, Alice wondered if maybe she was making the wrong decision. Could it be possible that he really did care for her on a deeper level? Maybe she misunderstood him just as much as she felt he misunderstood her. Her mind told her to delay this decision, but though she gave very good advice, she seldom ever followed it.

"No," Alice said much more forcefully this time. "I'm leaving for England in the morning."

"I'm afraid I won't be able to join you," he said quietly. "Will you be gone long?"

"I…I won't be coming back," she replied.

"Oh," he said. "Well, in that case, I suppose I won't need to make anymore raspberry tarts then. I was always content with lemon, you know."

Alice, once again, did not know how to respond. Instead, she stared at him with wide eyes as he poured another cup of tea, downed it in one gulp, and then slammed the cup onto the table. Little pieces of broken china scattered everywhere, but he didn't flinch. Rather, he simply picked up another cup and carried on as though nothing had happened.

Alice had run out of things to say, for she hadn't really thought she would make it to this point, and rose from the table with the intent of leaving. She pushed in her chair and went to pick up her traveling clock when she heard the distinct sound of breaking china once again. Almost fearfully, she looked toward Reginald's end of the table and saw that he was now also standing, and several shards of broken porcelain lay at his feet. He, however, made no move to come any closer as his gloved hands clenched tightly into fists by his sides.

"I am sorry," Alice said. "I never intended to stay."

With one last deep breath, she turned and exited quickly through the white, garden gate for the last time. Reginald made no move to follow her, but instead sunk down into the cool grass by the long table. Head bowed and eyes closed, he would stay that way for hours until one tiny spark could ignite the strange fever slowly bubbling within him.

Alice, of course, would never know any of this. Quick footsteps carried her down the familiar dirt path, and by sunrise, she would be back in England blissfully unaware and falsely naïve to the truth. The morning light would cover up her guilt, and by sunset, she will have convinced herself it was all just a dream and ignore the aching tug in her chest until it didn't feel real to her anymore.

That's the easy part about decisions. After making them and disappearing from someone's life, it's easy to fool one's self. It's easy to say it doesn't matter nestled warm and snug in one's home far away from the pleading, accusing eyes of the one that's been wronged. It's easy to forget when there are no reminders, but the other odd thing about decisions is that the tiniest details can stir up memories, and eventually though one tries to run, it always seems to find them in the end.

One thing Alice had failed to realize is that evening falls no matter the location, and eventually, the memories she left behind would catch up to her. It would not be instant, but the warm smell of tea or the melody of a certain laugh would snake its way back into her life, and while she might pretend for a time, she knew better than anyone that one could not pretend forever.

The End.