In Wonderland: A Combination Of Fact & Fiction

Claire finds me later in the evening, grinning at the stars and wrapped in my coat. She brings me a warm mug of chamomile tea, and we watch the sky together, toasting the stars with our tea.

“Is it what you hoped it would be so far?”

“Yes,” I tell her. “So far,” glossing over some of the ugly bits in my mind. “Tonight has been lovely.”

“Wonderful. It’s delightful to watch you dance. You are good at it. I appreciate that you know your strengths.”

“Well, I certainly know what I’m not good at, but thank you. I ought to be a good dancer by now, though. I grew up in ballet shoes and took almost every dance class I could talk my parents into signing me up for. Ballet, tap, jazz, Latin, flamenco, hip hop, contemporary ballet, ballroom. Just soaked it up. Still take a few classes back in Chicago.”

“How good that your parents saw you took to it then.”

“Needed it. I wouldn’t stop dancing in place, wherever I stood. Needed the outlet for all that energy. Great tea, by the way. Just what I needed.”

“Glad you like it — comes from my own garden like the rest of my teas.”

“I hear you have a way with herbs.”

Claire smiles into her tea and says nothing.

“Eric told me that you’ve met Jay. Ben and Victor, too.”

“Tattletale. Yes. It was not an impressive introduction. I was lucky that Eric was there,” I add, acknowledging the incident.

“Jay’s parents are here. Ben’s, too. Eric went to school with their fathers. He’s already had a word with Jackson — Ben’s dad. I expect you’ll receive a heartfelt apology from the parents while you’re here. It should stop any further harassment, but Caroline, we want to know if they look at you wrong. I want to know. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

“Burn ’em at the stake if that idiot walks your way again,” Helen says, nearing us with her own mug of tea, speaking just loud enough for a foursome of adults to look slightly nervous. “Right, Jackson?” Helen adds, with a nod towards one of them. He shifts his feet in the sand but replies in solemn agreement.

Jeannie and Diana join us, and Jackson’s group heads back to the fires.

“Well, that should sort out the parents,” Helen winks. “They’ll put the fear into their kids.”

“So you are the island’s witches,” I say, appreciating the mischief on Jeannie’s face.

“Herbalists. Historians. Storytellers,” Diana answers.

“And witches,” Effie grins, leading the rest of our friends to us, dragging Eric behind her.

“Had a story to tell us, did you?” Effie says, turning to me and resting her hands on her hips.

“Yes, but I didn’t want to bring it up before we came to the party,” I tell her, giving Eric my best hairy eyeball, which he ignores. “Just how many people have you been talking to?” I ask him, taking a more direct approach.

“Oh, just enough to cement the job,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“And get me into trouble with my new friends, all of whom will now be my babysitters, it would seem.”

“Security detail, love,” Jessica says, patting me on my shoulder.

“Vindicators at the ready,” Effie added. “Helen’ll curse Jay — give him warts all over his body. Then burn ’em, right Helen?”

Helen’s look was her only reply to Effie before she crooked her elbow into mine and pulled me close enough to whisper into my ear, “I will if you want me to.”

“Let’s start with locking doors for now,” I whisper back, appreciating the darkness of her humor.

“Are you allergic to dogs?” Jeannie asks me.

“Nope. Love dogs.”

“Good. I’ll introduce you to some of mine then,” Jeannie tells me before she walks away, leaving me confused when she doesn’t return.

“Those assholes,” Effie said, but I put my arm on hers to cut her off.

“Can we please change the topic?”

“Eric, dance with our gal,” Diana says, nodding at him. He smiles indulgently at his Aunt before offering me his hand.

“I don’t know,” I tell him, hesitating to give him mine. “Will you step all over my feet, Eric, like you’ve trod all over my secrets?”

“Only if you move too slowly,” he says, taking my hand.

“That does not inspire confidence.”

We walk back to the music, and the palm of his other hand rests flat against my back. We move into a slow waltz, following the notes from the two violins and fiddle until the bodhrán starts to set the pace. I catch Eric’s smile as he moves us faster, spinning me in circles in the sand until I am laughing and pink-cheeked. The others dance around us, and we separate, pairing off with the rest before returning to each other. Even Effie joins in, arms moving in quick, sharp motions like an offbeat disco queen. The fires burn brighter and taller around us. We dance away from the flames, pulling Emma with us to dance, when she returns to our group. The sky is dark now save for the needlepoint of stars and a moon that is teasingly half-full of promises. Eric’s aunt picks up his accordion and the music is fast and frenzied. Our feet are tired but none of us stop dancing until Helen lends her voice to a song, with her husband joining, to sing about a lodestar. Then we sit on logs and chairs, resting to admire their voices as they stand with only a guitar to accompany them. Off in the distance, closer to the house, I see my faceless friend, walking along the deck’s railing, balancing on one foot as it waves to me.

“Stalker,” I mumble to myself. Helen stares at me and follows my gaze, catching me before I paste a neutral expression on my face. Her eyes search for what I see, and she frowns, piercing me with them, looking for answers while I try to dodge her with a smile she doesn’t buy. I escape to the house, calling out a chirpy “Bathroom” to my friends. Helen leaned into Diana to speak to her.

The four remorseful parents cornered me to apologize for their sons’ bad behavior. They found me in the kitchen on my way out of the bathroom and jumped at the chance to apologize without others witnessing our conversation. They would speak with their sons and keep watch on them. I deemed their remorse genuine, but I felt the weight of their eyes on me as they waited for me to dismiss them with forgiveness. They left me shaking off the discomfort of the conversation and seeking out my friends. I found Emma first, sipping wine and staring at the moon. Her green eyes caught mine with a question on her face, and I told her about the awkward discussion.

“I don’t like it. They shouldn’t have talked to you when you were alone like that,” she said with a frown. “Cowards should’ve done that when you had your guard dogs with you.”

I smiled. “Is that what you gals are?”

“You bet. Claire and the others, too. More like a pack of wolves, really. Don’t worry, Caroline. Those assholes will leave you alone.”

I nodded, but I didn’t like the feeling of living in a place where I had to lock my doors again. This place was supposed to be a reprieve from locks and looking over my shoulder.

“You’re an amazing musician, Emma,” I tell her. “I hope you never stop again.”

“You and me both. It was great to play tonight. The gals told you that I stopped?”

“They filled me in on the ugly bits. He sounds like a real dick, Emma. I’m glad you’re rid of him.”

“No shit,” Emma laughs. “Didn’t take much work to get over him. Taking some time for the scars to fade, though. Metaphorically.”

“That’s to be expected. He sounds like he’s a manipulator. Gaslit you. You’re in a better place now, though. Think about it. You could still be stuck with him.”

“Yes. I consider myself lucky on the whole. Glad I had the gals to show me what he was doing to me. I feel a bit ridiculous that I didn’t see it all on my own.”

“You weren’t ready to see it all on your own,” I tell her, shaking my head. “Sometimes we just need some help getting out of the quicksand.”

“You’re right. Which is why you’re going to let us be your wolf pack. Not letting those idiots pick on you again. Deal?”

“Deal. You win. Think the others are ready to go? I’ve got wine in the fridge and pajamas waiting for me.”

“Agreed. We came. We ate. We played. We danced. We flirted. Let’s go before Claire sends us home.” Emma texts Jessica to gather the group while we search for Claire.

“Who’s flirting with whom?” I ask as we signal to Jessica, who nods when she reads the text.

“You and Eric, obviously. He’s eyeballing you. Cautiously. It’s hot.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I reply, waving the idea away. “I’m a short-term visitor. But he isn’t hard to look at,” I admit.

“Well, he could be a short-term visitor too,” Emma wiggles her brow suggestively, and I laugh.

“I don’t think I’m looking to add to my roster just now, thanks. Besides, I had a little fun on my trip up here.”

“Did you? You’ll have to fill me in on your adventures. We’ll have a sleepover. Your place tomorrow? We’ll bring the food; you pour the wine. Claire, we had a wonderful time,” Emma tells Claire, who is already hugging the rest of our group and slipping bags of food containers into their arms.

Helen slips a seashell into my coat pocket. “For protection from whatever spooked you earlier,” she says.

“Seashells will keep me safe?”

She frowns at my teasing tone. “You’ll see, dear. If you already see things others are not, your mind is open to the possibility.”

I brushed my fingers over the shell’s ridges and nodded, accepting her point. “How did you know?” I whispered as I leaned into her goodbye hug.

“I see my share of them, too,” she answers.

Eric interrupts us before the conversation can continue. He walks with us to our cars, carrying his own food bag, and one that he sets on my lap after holding my hand as I climb up to my seat.

“Thank you, Eric,” I say, careful to keep my hands still and folded in my lap.

“Thank you, Eric,” Rebecca coos. The other women follow suit in matching tones, making us both laugh. He watches my cheeks blush.

“When are you going to take Caroline on a kayak tour?” Emma asks him.

“Anytime,” he tells me.

“Alright, with the ladies,” I tell him, making a plan for later in the week. He agrees, understanding I’ve buffered myself by including the other women. Emma grins into the sleeves of her coat.

“See you around. Safe home,” Eric tells us, tucking a corner of my dress into the car before closing the door.

“Alright, Sober Mama,” Effie says, “Let’s go home.” Jessica shifts the pickup into drive, and five pairs of arms wave out the window, calling out to Eric until he fades away.

“How was your first Island party, Caroline?” Jessica asked me.

“Lovely. But I wouldn’t mind not bumping into Ben and Jay’s parents again,” I add, filling them in on my conversation.

“Cowards,” Effie scoffs. “Couldn’t talk to you with us around. Or the BBs. Cornered you. I hope they didn’t try to excuse their boys’ bad behavior,” she added, punctuating the juvenile noun with her fingers as quotation marks and rolling her eyes.

“They didn’t, but it was implied.” I yawned, letting the truck lull me into a drowsy state.

Rebecca snorted. “Of course it was.”

I nodded. “Parents,” I said.

“Yours would want to know,” Rebecca says, “What their sons did.”

“I don’t want to worry them. Besides, they’ll behave themselves now that the whole island knows what happened. Have to, or Helen will light them on fire or turn them into toads.”

“Just the same, we’re escorting you into the house,” Effie tells me, and Rebecca joins her when I hop out of the pickup. They are not subtle about checking for locked windows and doors before they leave me alone for the night. The sisterhood is appreciated but shouldn’t be necessary.

“Tell me more about this party you’re at,” I text Henry, wanting the distraction, while I settle into bed.

“Well, we met five women, all named Tiffany tonight, and all in the same group of friends. Sadly, none of them are as witty as you are.”

“Naturally,” I reply. “All blonde?”

“Yes. Three of them bottled.”

“Gold Coast blondes?”

“Worse. Lincoln Park.”

“That’s what you get,” I reply, laughing at his misery. “Surely one or two of them were mildly interesting.”

“Not a bit. I miss you. How is life as an Islander treating you?”

“I’m full of crustaceans and still not a fan of college men.”

“Crab? And we’re idiots in college. What happened?”

“Lobster.” I hesitated before deciding to fill him in on my encounter.

Henry calls me. “You alright, Norris?”

“I’m alright, Dillon. You?”

“Now that I’ve escaped the Tiffanies, I’m safe. Are you locked in for the night?”

“Yes, my new friends checked all doors and windows, and I have a seashell to keep me safe.”

“Must be one hell of a sharp shell if it will do you any good. So why did you run away, Caroline?”

“I didn’t run away,” I tell him. “You know I’ve always wanted to come here. It was the perfect time for an adventure. David was a dud; I could work remotely and was ready to come here. And nothing kept me from leaving for a few months.”

“Not even your oldest almost,” Henry asks me quietly.

“You didn’t come to my big send-off.”

“I know. I should have, but I had to work early the next day. And I knew you were probably still annoyed at me.”

“For all of your waffling?”

“Yes. I’ve already fumbled it with you. I’ve already messed it up with you, you know? I figured I’d stay out of your way, Caroline, and not add to your plate.”

That one hurts, but he’s not entirely wrong. I’m better off without him just now.

“Are you sober?”

“Yes,” he replies. “I’m back in meetings again. It’s been almost ninety days – next week.”

“Good. Keep it up. We like Sober Henry.”

“Who’s we?”

“That was the royal we. Naturally,” I say, spreading my fingers out to inspect my nails.

“I like you as a Queen. Very haughty. It’s hot. You should order me about now.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” I laugh. “We’re not playing tonight, Henry.”

Henry sighs theatrically. “What a shame. I was in the mood for you to tell me what to do to you – for you, I mean. Naturally.”

“Another time, perhaps,” I tell him.

“I’ll hold you to that. But Caroline, stay away from those guys and don’t be afraid to call the cops. Mounties? Do they wear those hats?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t run into them here. Yet. But I’ll be sure to snag a picture if I meet one. Don’t worry about me, Henry. Thanks to my new friends, half of the island has already heard about my story. I don’t think they’ll bother trying to harass me again. It wouldn’t be worth the trouble for them to try. I’ll be smart about it.”

“Good. I’ll be checking in on you all the same.”

“You mean you’ll check in on me to see if I’m up for some fun.”

“No,” Henry’s voice turns serious, “I’ll check in on you to ensure you’re okay. I want to hear more about your adventures, too.”

“Fine then. Check in on me.”

“If we play,” Henry adds, “That’ll be a bonus.”

“Ah hah,” I laugh accusatorially, “I knew it.”

“Don’t you mean ‘We knew it,’ Caroline?”

“Hmph. Goodnight, Henry. Thanks for checking in on me.”

“Anytime. Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

My shade, lying on the floor during my conversation, stood up and stretched its arms above and behind its head, folding them behind its neck while it watched me. One elbow was bent, and the other hand pulled on the elbow to stretch, twisting its neck to crack it. I heard the pop of the joints cracking, and the figure standing before me sighed in relief.

“This is ridiculous,” I tell myself or it – am I speaking to it now, as though it’s really here? I reach for the seashell left on the dresser and wave it in front of the shade’s face with as much humor as curiosity. It stares at me with its sunken eye sockets, though they seem more substantial than before and are more obviously present than yesterday. A noise outside interrupts my experiment with the seashell, and we both walk to the living room to peek out the curtain.

“Just a few squirrels,” I assure us, watching three red squirrels run across the ground. However, the shade stays put, standing sentinel by the window while I read myself to sleep in bed. For some reason, I feel comfortable knowing it’s standing watch, keeping me safe from the Animalia roaming under the moon.