She tried to stay but after a while she was gone again. My father experienced an absolute fit of depression. It was the March Hare who had to get him out of it. What a fight that was. I hid under the table and clung on to the only stable leg it had for dear life. The sound of smashing plates and china made my ears ring, and their shouting was nonsensical barking over it. Then all was still and quiet.
"It's not easy to love a girl like Alice," the March Hare panted, "But your daughter needs her father – she doesn't know what having a mother is."
"Well she should!"
"But she doesn't! She's a fine wee girl and you're ignoring her! I will not allow it! Alice has always come and gone like the weather, but Alicia is here and she's not going anywhere. You're supposed to look after her."
With that, I heard the padding of the March Hare's feet shrinking into the distance. I waited for one hundred seconds and emerged from my hiding place. My father knelt on the ground, his head hung low and I was careful as I approached. As I got closer, I saw a ring in his hand, similar but smaller to the one around his finger. Tears landed in his palms and I stood in front of his knees. He lifted himself up a little taller and pulled me into his arms. He cried silently, I knew, because my shoulder got wet. I cried for him, and both our shoulders were sodden.
When it was over, he made some tea and as I sipped the boring liquid I could not understand his love for, he fiddled with the ring between the table and his fingertips. Wordlessly he departed from our long garden table and I dipped my finger in the tea now it was cold, and drew sad faces in the cloth. I was so deeply interested in the warping of the fabric under the liquid, I failed to notice his return. The ring floated in front of my eyes as he brought it down in front of my face, standing behind me to better fasten the clasp of the necklace he had made with the ring.
I'm holding it now. Wrapped around my fist I can swing it in circles, making the air whistle from my temporary treetop home. My dad hated when I did that with the necklace at home. I think it reminds him of a horror from his past. Just because I'm the daughter of The Mad Hatter and The Great Warrior Alice, doesn't mean I'm kept naive of their histories. A voice from far below calls to me.
"Coffee!"
I changed it. My name gives me away. I don't want to be famous for having my parents names hooked into my back. I want to be famous for taking over Underland.