His fingers were slow, deliberate in their calculations on her scalp. She must have been sitting for hours. The light friction was driving her nearer to insanity with each stroke, stirring a tickling sensation in her belly.
"I don't understand why you don't make use of the measuring tape," Alice let out a huff of frustration, though she knew not why. This man was an expert, obviously his methods had meaning. Didn't they?
"Numbers are fickle things," he hummed, "I prefer to feel."
"How ever can you feel anything through those bandages?" Alice only asked out of curiosity, but instantly knew her comment could be construed as insulting. "I'm sorry." She swallowed.
"Does it take fingers to feel?" The Hatter tapped four from his left hand against his lips, contemplating as if it were a riddle.
"If you aren't measuring, then just what are you doing to my head?!" Alice jerked forward. Turning to face the man, she looked him up and down, "You're mad."
He laughed then, as if it were the funniest thing in the world.
"What are you laughing at?" she blushed.
"Your angry Alice face," he wiped a happy tear from his eye. "It would seem that your madness is more apparent than mine."
"I take it back," she breathed, "you're an absolute loon."
"I'd prefer a raven," he said staunchly.
"Are you going to make me a hat or not?" She crossed her arms.
"Not." His bushy brows furrowed.
Her mouth opened in fear as she recalled her reason for being in this shoppe. Her sister absolutely wanted this man's designs for her wedding. She couldn't let her down. "What? Why?" she placed her imploring hands on The Hatter's chest, over his pink-tinted shirt.
His warm palms traveled over hers and she could feel that tickling sensation once more. "Not a hat, Alice," he shook his head warmly, "a fascinator. A fascinating fascinator!"
She laughed against her indignation. "Now I've gone mad," She looked back and forth between his seeking eyes. "Is it catching?"
"Oh, I should hope so," his mouth curled, "the color looks awfully good on you."
She'd only noticed her heart in her throat when the bell on the door rang once more. Alice swiftly retracted her arms to her side. What was it her father had said about madness?
"Alice, dear, we're back." Her mother spoke, with several items in tow. "How was your meeting with The Hatter?"
The man took a breath to speak when Alice grabbed the fabric at his sleeve, "Hatter and I are going to meet again tomorrow."
His gaze was still lost at the fingers on his shirt, "Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow, for tea."
"Oh, I love tea!" The Hatter clapped.
"That's excellent to hear, Alice," her mother nodded. "Now come along for supper."
As Alice's fingers unraveled, she couldn't shake the guilty feeling that had formed much like the wrinkles in his shirt.
The next day at tea time Alice appeared in front of a dark storefront. "Of course," she pinched the skin between her eyebrows. The day was Sunday. "Of course he wouldn't be open today!" she scoffed, feeling a loss at the lack of the man who had felt like a familiar dream.
"What are we looking for?" The Hatter chimed in behind her, reflected in the glass of the closed shoppe. He placed a hand over his strong eyebrows and peered inside, inadvertently pressing her up against the glass.
"Hatter!" her face flushed as he pressed up against her. She turned then, "Hatter, I was looking for you!"
"Oh! You've found me too soon," he looked distraught, "should I hide again?"
"No, Hatter," she laughed. "But, I am afraid I've come at the wrong time."
"It is tomorrow?"
"…Yes."
"Tea time?"
"Yes."
"Then, let's go!" The Hatter hooked his arm in hers and strolled determinedly down the street.
"Hatter- where are we going?" she sped to keep up.
"Why, isn't it obvious, Alice?" he chuckled, "for tea."
The two found themselves in front of an oddly shaped house in the woods. It was as if the math were all wrong, but the angles found a way to work themselves out.
"After you," Hatter held the door open.
Alice felt wary. She had never seen this store before, but curiosity pressed her feet to step inside. Once indoors, she noted a small kitchen table dressed with too many table settings. There was a reading nook with several books opened part way, and a cozy fireplace from which the kettle was already keening. Two mismatched couches were set up near the woven rug.
"Hatter," Alice stepped back, "is this your home?"
"Not my home, per say," Hatter retrieved the kettle from the fire, "but it is a house."
"Your house?"
"I should say so," The Hatter grinned. "One lump or four?"
"Hatter, I shouldn't be in your house," Alice shook her head.
"No?" his red brows rose in confusion.
"Hatter, this is indecent. It's not normal for an unwed woman and man to be alone in a home. Do you understand?"
"I see." The Hatter nodded as he placed the tray on the table next to the couches. "We should be wed then," he said sternly.
"No!" Alice responded in a voice too shrill for her liking. She coughed to set it right again. "You are one mad hatter aren't you?"
"Alice!" The Hatter slid forward from the table, "do you remember?" His expression was jovial.
"Remember?" Her brows wrinkled, "Remember what, that you're mad?"
The Hatter breathed out as his face slackened and he returned to the tray of tea, "We should drink it before it gets cold." He touched the cup. "Or perhaps… I should return home. Then you wouldn't be feeling indecent."
"Hatter," her voice filled with concern at his pained expression, "You're not making sense. Isn't this your home?"
"Nay, Alice," a sorrowful brogue overtook him, "This place is your home."
'Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast,' A voice inside of Alice echoed, sending a chill down her spine. "...Hatter, where is your home?"
His wet eyes sought hers desperately as his lip began to tremble. "It doesn't work that way!" He broke against his tartan chair. "If I take you there, you'll never see it. And you'll never remember. You have to find your own way." He glanced up at her, "I'd only meant to watch. Truly." He turned his face from hers in shame, "But then you touched me..."
"Hatter," her thumbs brushed the tears from his cheeks. Somehow she felt safe enough to do so. Somehow she knew he was someone familiar; somehow he was her friend.
"Say you'll remember," he lisped silently.
She cupped his cheek, "I can promise you I'll try."
He chewed on his lip. She knew he had wanted to say something, but decided against it.
"Until then, will you stay in my home, as you say, with me?"
He smiled and wiped a single tear. "Of course, Alice."
"Good," she nodded, taking the other seat by the fire, "now drink your tea."
