The month of August in Texas is always quite sweltering. For her niece, Suzanne's wedding, Alice chose a coral dress, with a relatively modest hemline.

Ernest had made clear what he'd thought of her choice of date to his daughter's wedding, and, for some time, Alice had had to think about whether she'd tell Claude about the wedding.

It had been a hard decision, but Alice had finally decided that she would not.

She had told Claude that she was going to be working late that evening.

"We have a new shipment of books coming in, and they need all the help that they can to get them all organized." Alice had said.

For once, Claude had been silent. "All right." he said finally. "Don't work too late."
The wedding had been a fairly moving, though less than modest ceremony. Suzanne was marrying Bob Carmichael, the son of a prominent Houston investment banker. Afterwards, a reception was held on the grounds of a nearby resort. Alice was seated at the bar, when Suzanne approached her.

"Alice," Suzanne said. "I've been looking all over for you. I'd like you to meet Owen Hunter. Owen is an engineer for McDonnell Electronics, and a very dear friend of Bob's." Suzanne looked at Alice expectantly.

Alice smiled and looked at Owen, a heavyset man of about twenty-five, with wire-rimmed glasses. Alice dutifully extended her hand.

"Pleased to meet you." Alice said. "How do you do?"
"Pretty well, what about yourself?"

"Very well. Lovely wedding, wasn't it?"

"Well," Suzanne said. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted." She walked away.

"Well," Owen said, clinking his ice back and forth. "Your niece is very nice, isn't she?"

"Yes," Alice said. "She is."
"I don't know her that well, but Bob and I attended Yale together. We were in the same fraternity."

"Oh, really?" Alice said.

"Yes. I remember during our initiation ceremony all of the pledges had to run a race of no less than thirty feet after consuming a whole keg of beer."
"Really?" Alice said. "Did you know that, in the old days, those initiation contests were held to see who had the most valor and honor?"

"I'm sure they were." Owen said. "But then again, nowadays, who could pass?"

"Indeed," Alice said. "Who could pass?"

Alice was on her way to the restroom just before the dinner was about to start, when Ernest accosted her.

"Ernest," Alice said. "Congratulations. It's a lovely wedding."
"It should be." Ernest said. "It cost me enough, I know that."

"Yes." Alice smiled. "Well-"

"I noticed you talking to Owen Hunter." Ernest said.

"Yes. We had a nice conversation." Alice said.

"Good. That's good." Ernest said. "You know, Owen is involved in very important work at McDonnell Electronics. You know what they're saying. Computers are the future."

"I'm sure he is." Alice said.

"Comes from a good family, too. Yale educated." Ernest studied Alice. "Tell me, where did Clyde go to college?"

Alice sighed. "It's Claude, Ernest. Don't do this."
"Do what?" Ernest said. "I'm just making conversation."
"Sure you are." Alice said.

"I couldn't help but notice the absence of your young man tonight, Alice." Ernest said.

"He…wasn't feeling well." Alice said.

"There's no need to lie. You and I both know you're not naïve enough to think that a small timer like him would fit in here. You'd be doing him a disservice."
Alice glanced at her hands. "It's more complicated than that." she said sadly.

"No, it isn't. Not really, because it would be the same way in every other respect, at every other event, down the line. You two don't have a future."
"It doesn't have to be." Alice said. "He could fit in, if he had a little practice. If you'd just give him a chance."
"Alice," said Ernest. "you're smarter than that. That simply isn't the way the world works."

Alice bit her lip, saying nothing.

"Well," said Ernest. "I have duties I have to get back to." He walked off, leaving Alice standing there. A breeze stirred the air, and Alice felt a strange feeling, a kind of combination of nausea and sadness. And loneliness.

The night air was thick and muggy after Alice got home from the wedding. She walked up the driveway, and took her keys out of her evening purse. She walked up to her front step, and was just about to put her key in the door, when she noticed a figure sitting on the steps.

Claude stepped out of the shadows. Alice looked at him, and crossed her arms over her chest, but she felt afraid.

"You know, Alice," Claude said, taking a step towards her. "I'd quit working at the library if they're going to instigate a dress code like that."

Alice folded her arms. She could smell alcohol, and she decided to take the self-righteous route. "You've been drinking, Claude." she said.

"I'll say. I must be really blotto, because I keep hallucinating that you're wearing an evening dress. Can you imagine? To stack shelves at a library. I must be as bad as Matt says I am."
"Okay, you've made your point, Claude." Alice said. She put her key in the door.

"Where were you?" said Claude accusatorially.

"I was…I was at my niece's wedding, okay, Claude?" Alice pushed the door open, and went into the house.

"Oh?" said Claude. "With someone else, naturally."
"No." said Alice. "Alone. Claude, there's no need to make a big deal of all this, all right? I just didn't think that you'd be all that interested in a family wedding."

"No. No, of course not. I wonder why. Could it be my shabby clothing? My lack of what you society types would call 'breeding', which sounds like a word you'd apply to a horse. 'The champion of the Kentucky derby had excellent breeding.'"
"Go home, Claude." Alice said sadly.

"I may not have 'breeding', but I've got more class than any of those yahoos at your niece's wedding." Claude said. "Maybe you just didn't want to mention that I sell vacuum cleaners. That's all right. I understand about the awkwardness of these things more than you might think I would."

"Claude, we'll talk later. Just go get some rest."
"Don't talk to me in that patronizing tone of voice, and don't look at me in that superior way." said Claude. "You're no intrepid queen, Alice. You're just an entitled little princess."

Alice was hurt, but her face remained impassive. "Out."
"You can't order me around, Princess Alice. I'm not one of your footmen. You may not realize this, but I'm not like all those men at that party you went to. I'm involved in deep intelligence. I've been to the edge of the Baltic sea."
Alice crossed her arms, and pointed to the door.

"I've smuggled precious jewels out of the Kremlin. I've done things your little society boys could never even dream about. Ever hear of the Faberge eggs?"
Alice's shoulders sagged. "You smuggled the Faberge eggs out of the Kremlin, Claude?"
"Don't laugh. I most certainly did."

"Yeah, well, I smuggled the White Rabbit's pocket watch out of Wonderland once. Can you top that?" Alice crossed her arms, and stuck her chin out at him.

Claude stepped towards her. Alice felt fearful. She shrank back.

"What's the matter with you, Alice?" Claude said. "Do you think that I'd hurt you?"
"I-I don't know." Alice said.
"Princess Alice." he said scornfully, and Alice stiffened.

"Maybe I could just say that you're the magnate of weight loss powder. It wouldn't be a lie, would it?"
"You little viper." Claude said. There was hurt in his eyes, but he advanced further toward her. He grasped her shoulders in his hands. Alice kept her back straight. He looked at her, his eyes sad, soft. Alice wavered, but she looked back at him defiantly.

"You lied to me, Alice. You're a liar." He leaned his head on her shoulder. "They used to call me a liar. All the children in my neighborhood. They'd say that I wasn't really King Claude the Newbold. They'd say that I was just a big phony. They left me all alone. Even Hallie left me all alone, and it was so lonely, up in that tree house, even with all of my imaginary subjects..."

Alice frowned sadly, and stroked his back. "Claude-"

Claude put his mouth against hers, and kissed her, sloppily, sadly, and then with more force, scooping up her face in his hands, missing her lips several times, leaving behind the taste of alcohol and bitter hurt, but Alice did not care. Alice kissed him back, returning the kiss with tenderness and contrition, which only seemed to excite him all the more, and he kissed her insistently, determinedly, soaking her mouth in the process. Alice closed her eyes, accepting his acrimonious wet kisses, craving them, her desire for Claude so intense that she could hear herself gasping for breath, one strap of her coral evening dress knocked down completely. Alice felt a sudden deep loathing for Suzanne's frilly, extravagant wedding, and symbolically, her ostentatious designer dress, and thusly moved up and down furiously against Claude, wanting the thousand dollar dress to be wrinkled by him. She could hear him groan loudly, and suddenly became very aware of the effects of her preceding actions. She looked at him, excited by his arousal, and kissed him just as intensely, and dragged down his zipper. She hiked up the skirt of her evening dress, and could feel Claude tugging down her panties, backing her against the wall. Alice closed her eyes, and they moved together, the love between them, bitter, messy, full of hurt, but glorious at the same time, fervent, adoring, and neither of them would have stopped for anything in the world. As they made love, Claude was no less vociferous than he was the rest of the time, and Alice was no less enthusiastic in her responsiveness.

When it was over, and his groans subsided, Claude kissed Alice, first on the neck, and then on the lips, repeatedly, as though he could not get enough of her. Alice closed her eyes, and moaned softly, never wanting it to end.

Wanting to have him as close to her as possible, she put her arms around him as tightly as they would go, and kissed him gently, soothingly, rubbing his back.

Claude stopped kissing her, and stood still for a moment, leaning his forehead against hers, and in the stillness that followed, Alice could hear him breathing raggedly.

"Claude, Claude." murmured Alice gently. He wrapped his arms around, her, stroking her hair, and Alice put her arms around him even more tightly, and for a moment they stood there, completely still. Alice closed her eyes, savoring the closeness of it. But even in this moment, when everything seemed to have been all right between them, and after they had shared such a powerful, loving experience Alice knew that everything was not even close to all right, and that there was something that she needed to say, because she did love him, very deeply, and there was one more way, one much more important way, that she needed to express that love.

So she pulled away, and looked at him. "Claude," she said. "don't use me as an excuse to fall off of the wagon." She looked down at the ground, clasping her hands.

"Well," Claude said. "I don't have a problem with alcohol. I just liked to drink a bit much. I'd go on binges." He took a deep breath. "But isn't it just like a self-righteous little smarty such as yourself to point out others flaws. I suppose you and your fancy acquaintances didn't have anything to drink tonight."
"Claude, I was only saying-"

"What about your oil mogul brother? How much did he have to drink tonight?"

"Claude, don't do this. I didn't mean-"

"I think," said Claude. "that I'll see myself out." He started for the door.

"Claude, don't go." Alice said.

"You know what I think, Alice? I think that you just do anything your brother tells you to do. You don't have the courage not to "

"Oh?" said Alice, feeling a feeling of impotent rage in that second, because she knew he was right, and Alice didn't like feeling weak. "As opposed to, say, the courage of Claude the Con Man? Fearless conqueror of the fat and gullible? Grand entrepreneur of weight loss drinks and fictional oil wells?" She saw that Claude looked stricken, but she barreled on. "By the way, I'd ask you to spell entrepreneur, but I don't think you have a chance in hell of spelling it right. Or Faberge, for that matter."

For a split second, Claude looked like he might cry. He just stood there looking at her.
"Fuck you, princess." he said, finally.

Alice felt like crying. "Wait, Claude, I-"

"I don't want to be around someone who talks as you do." said Claude. "And I don't want to be around anyone who's going to be embarrassed by me."

"I'm not-"

"Yes, you are, or why else would you go to the wedding without me, in the first place? You know, I don't think you're Alice the Intrepid at all. I think that you're Alice the Pusillanimous. Look that one up, and make sure that you spell it right."

And with that, he was gone.

The next Monday, at story time in the public library, Alice was reading Peter Pan to a group of children, sitting on bean bag chairs, when she saw Claude again. She hadn't seen him all that weekend, though she had tried his apartment, the office of the C-6000 vacuum company, everywhere she could think of. But there was nothing. No sign of him.

Now he came in, and sat amongst the children, looking at her. Alice continued reading.

" 'Bold and cocky boy,' said Hook. 'prepare to meet thy doom.'." Alice intoned. Claude watched her seriously. The children leaned forward.

" 'Dark and sinister man,' Peter answered." Alice paused for effect. " 'have at thee.'."

Claude smiled as Alice continued reading. He sat forward and listening intently to her, same as they did, and every few lines, she'd look up from the page, at the children, and at him at the same time, never pausing. And as she watched him listening to her, she thought about how oddly like a little boy he looked, just like one of the children, sitting forward, absorbed in the story of the exploits of Peter Pan, and the Lost Boys, and Wendy.

And for Claude, whose absorption in the story was no less than it had been in his own childhood, except now it was fused with his affection for Alice, it was like hearing the story for the first time, it was as though Alice had always been the narrator, and he could not think of a time when Alice was not narrating that story, or any other, for that matter. As long as Alice was reading that story, in her dynamic voice, smiling a smile that was no less for the children than it was for him, time could stand still. As long as Alice read, everything would be all right.

After the story was over, Claude took off, and Alice was too busy making sure the children were dismissed properly to catch up with him. Awhile later, Cindy, a middle-aged librarian approached her.

"Excuse me, Alice." she said. "but there was a thin gentleman here in a hat, and he asked me to give you this." Cindy gave Alice a folded slip of paper.
"Oh. Thank you, Cindy." Alice took the paper, and unfolded it.

"Alice," the note read. "You were right about the drinking. It was just an excuse. C.N."

"P.S.," the note read further. "I hope that this note is spelled to your satisfaction. I used a dictionary extensively just to write it."

Alice began to cry, right there in the nonfiction section of the library. Then she brushed the tears off of her face, and straightened up, because she was not about to have a meltdown here at work. She would save that for home. She glanced at the note again, and squinted at the bottom of it. She made out the words.

"Ya tebya lyublu."