Alice in Wonderland

Alice’s breath fogged the windows of the bus, further obscuring her view of the unremarkable countryside, its features silhouetted by the darkness of early morning. Beyond the glass, she could just make out the blurred shapes of forgotten farmland against the backdrop of rolling hills far in the distance. The lopsided farmhouses and single room homes now just empty carcasses – mementos of those whose dreams, realized or otherwise, had come and gone.

The desolate landscape was a stark contrast to the oppressive skyscrapers of the city. Just the thought of the towering monoliths had Alice pulling her legs to her chest as though huddling next to a fire for warmth. Almost unbidden to her, she remembered her first impression of the place. Of how she had stared up in wonder at the flashing lights, her very skin seeming to vibrate in response to the car horns, the street vendors and performers, the men and women marching down the street, eyes straight forward, lips moving in rapid speech into their cell phones. Never had a place made her feel more alive.

That was a long time ago.

Or it felt as though it was. Before her own dreams had slowly taken on the shape of the forgotten dwellings still whizzing past. Dreams eroded by rejection in all shapes and forms. How long had it been since she had dared to imagine a bright future? Had looked into her small bathroom mirror, and felt pride and not shame? She had promised herself, time and time again, that her new life in the city would bring about the change she sought. To be able to look at herself in the mirror and see herself as someone worthy.

Alice blinked, her flitting eyelids dragging her attention from the view beyond, to the window itself. She pulled up the sleeve of her hoodie and, while trying to ignore the neglected nail polish tarnishing the tips of her fingers, wiped clear the excessive fog cloaking the glass.

There it was again: her reflection, in all its unfiltered glory. She saw her frizzy, brown hair, which stood up like bundles of wire. She saw the freckles and pimples marring her skin like graffiti. Then there was her weirdly shaped nose, the shape of her mouth…everything was just wrong. Reflexively, Alice scowled and turned away from the window, flipping up the hood of her jacket and shoving her hands into the front pocket. Her thumb perched on the volume button of her music player. Louder. Louder still, until she could no longer hear the thoughts in her own head. Still, her eyes drifted to the backpack resting on the floor. To the headstock of her ukulele peeking out from the top. How many hours had she dedicated to mastering it and her voice? To creating music good enough to be heard? And how many times, after all that effort, had she failed?

Too many times. Far too many.

Alice stared at it for a second longer before closing her eyes. Let the pulsing music silence every stray, maligned thought, until there was nothing but pounding bass to join the faint rumbling of the bus, and the welcome darkness of her closed eyes.

“Let me get this straight. Because it sounds like you’re having a rough time adjusting to the city and pursuing your passion. Which is normal – everyone struggles. But going on a sabbatical? Don’t you think that’s a tad…drastic?”  

           “No, mom. I just need to get away for a while. Someplace I don’t have to…” Alice bit her lip to stop the next words. Words that would reveal too much. Instead, she chose, “Just somewhere I don’t have to be surrounded by so many distractions. You get it, don’t you?”

           Alice’s mother stilled, as though a ghost suddenly whispered the unspoken words. Alice laced her fingers together beneath their shared table, failing to avert her gaze from the one pinning her to the seat.

Her mother was something she could never be; so effortlessly, annoyingly…beautiful. The sun seeping in through the blinds caught her twinkling, looped silver earrings, and limned her brown hair with the last golden sighs of the evening. Everywhere they went together, Alice heard snatches of conversation complimenting her mother’s eyes. Of their rich caramel hue, rimmed with a color like sunshine on honey.

           “My little queen,” her mother spoke gently, in a tone almost wistful. “Life is so much more than what lies on the surface. You have to see the beauty inside yourself. See just how much you’re truly worth. If those are things you’re struggling to realize…then perhaps this trip is what you need. I just wish you saw what I already see – that you’re more than enough.”

           Alice scoffed, choosing instead to stare at her messy green fingernail polish. “Whatever. You’ve ALWAYS been pretty and talented. And I have to listen to people go on and on about it. When I’m around you, I feel like…like I’m not even there. Like I’m invisible! And I’m just…just…”

           “Just what?”   

           “I’m just not good enough! Okay?” Tears blurred Alice’s vision, her green nail polish becoming unfocused. “I moved to this big city because everyone told me there’d be so many opportunities! And what do I find? Doors slammed in my face, one after the other! So maybe it is me! Maybe I’ll never be…worthy. Worthy of just being seen, for once in my life. To not feel invisible when I stand next to you. Is that too much to ask? I just want to change who I am. It's what I’ve been trying to do for the last year. But I’m still the same, unworthy person.”

           A sudden lurch from the bus had Alice snapping her eyes open, her dislodged headphones bringing the old bus’s machinations to the foreground. With her groggy senses lagging behind, Alice reached dazedly for her backpack, blinking rapidly in the abundant sunshine streaming in through the windows. Had she arrived already? Overslept?

           Alice’s mild panic caused her to half-rise from the seat, surprised that only she and the driver remained the bus’s only occupants. What was more, was that the old windows were slightly opaque with age, making it nigh impossible to see through them properly. Alice could tell, though, from the shapes passing by that people milled about the bus, a sort of buzzing excitement permeating the otherwise stilted silence of the interior.

           “Are…are we here?” Alice called in a falsely cheery voice.

           “You’re exactly where you wanted to go, miss,” The driver answered, his gravelly voice sounding bored, if not, slightly impatient.  

           Alice swallowed, unable to shake her apprehension. However, she wasn’t keen on pestering the driver more, so with trepidation slowing her steps, she shouldered her backpack and ambled to the front of the bus. She gave one last, perfunctory glance to the bus driver, who only gave her a customary tip of his cap.

           It’s fine, Alice mentally berated herself. You’ve just got the heebie-jeebies because you slept all morning.

           With that thought, she strode out of the bus, immediately shielding her eyes against the oppressive sunshine. Still, she could discern the mountains standing tall against the horizon, a sea of evergreen trees obscuring the jagged rock beneath. The din of voices outside the bus became amplified as though she had just removed a set of ear plugs, and before her, rows of homey, two story buildings lined either side of the street – a cozy, if not bustling town at the foot of the mountains. So far, so good.

           But that was where everything stopped being…normal.

           Why were there so many Volkswagen vans parked on the side of the street? Why were the people passing by saying “groovy,” and “far out” so much? Alice then turned, and felt her mouth fall open.

Women bedecked in crop-tops and bellbottom jeans strut up and down the streets, the men joining them sporting afros and aviator sunglasses. Indeed, something was very, very wrong.

Alice spun, hand flinging for the bus. But to her horror, it was already a small blue dot in the distance, getting smaller and smaller as it rumbled away from her. For a moment, she stood there, hand suspended awkwardly before her. All she had wanted was a quiet get away in a quaint mountain town. To go on a trek through those nearby mountains, where she could be alone with her thoughts and discover who she was at her core. And, just maybe, find the change within herself she so desperately wanted. Instead…

“Hey there! You look lost!”

The voice, so bright and cheery that it ought to be fined, shook Alice from her brooding. Slowly, she turned towards its source, ready to pop in her headphones and don her hood if she needed to make a quick getaway.

There stood a tall woman in 70s regalia, her bellbottom jeans obscuring most of her platform shoes. She wore a bright red tube top with noisy frills at the edges, and her permed hair and ebony skin caught the rays of the sun in ways Alice had never seen before.

“You could say that,” Alice ground out, not caring for how unfriendly she sounded. “What, exactly, is going on here?” She made a wide sweeping gesture, indicating to the antiquated automobiles, bedazzled peace signs plastered on seemingly every surface, and the decades’ old wardrobe on display.

“Oh!” The woman laughed in a way that made the air around her seem brighter. “You poor thing. Happens every year. I’m guessing you didn’t know about the Wonderland Festival! It’s an annual tradition – people come from all over to relive the 70s!”

Alice stood there in stunned silence. She ran a hand through her hair, fingers getting caught in the knots, all while trying to wrap her head around this “Wonderland Festival.” How many times over the past year had she planned something, only for everything to go awry? Now here she was, trying to do something for herself – to get away from it all – only for “it all” to find her.

“Aw, I’m sorry if we ruined your plans, sugar,” the woman kneeled to Alice’s height, the wrinkles around her eyes making her words that much more genuine. “But if you wanna tag along with me, I promise I’ll make this trip worth your while. How about we just start with the basics? Mind tellin’ me your name?”

“Alice,” Alice said numbly. “Yours?”

“Well,” the woman leaned in as if sharing a secret. Alice, to her own surprise, leaned in too. “I’ve got two names. When I’m not here, I’m Shanice. But when I’m here, my name is Dawn.”

It was a struggle for Alice to not roll her eyes.

“Right. Do I need to come up with a ‘other’ name?” She crossed her arms, raising a brow.

Dawn paused, then gave Alice a mischievous smile – one that, for some reason, stirred something in her chest. A tight knot, comprised of every negative thought and disappointment she’d recently felt. And as Alice uncrossed her arms, she felt that knot loosen, too.

“Nah. I think Alice is perfect! Now let’s not dilly-dally. Come with me!” Dawn grabbed Alice’s hand and steered them forward with an exaggerated sway to her hips, her permed hair bouncing in ways that made Alice jealous.

The quaint mountain town Alice had seen in pictures had been totally transformed, both in appearance and atmosphere. On top of the artistically graffitied Volkswagens, the animated spring everyone seemed to have to their walks, and the disco music blaring from the inside of most buildings, there was an inexplicable feeling of…was it happiness? Contentedness? Alice couldn’t put her finger on it, but the feeling was infectious. It buoyed her spirits, and further loosened the knot stirred by Dawn’s smile.

“Where are we going?” Alice asked.

Dawn turned midstride, dazzling smile still intact. “To meet my friends of course! I just knew I had to after I saw that Ukulele. Cause wouldn’t you know it, they’re musicians too!”

“No!” Alice skidded to a stop, pulling her hand from Dawn and shoving them both in the pocket of her hoodie. “Sorry, I know that was really drastic. I just…I’m not that good. I never have been.”

Dawn seemed to be at a loss for words. Alice kicked at a pebble on the gravel road, glad to be out of the hustle and bustle of the town. Glad that no one else could witness her embarrassment.

“I didn’t know I’d hit somethin’ so heavy,” Dawn’s sad voice reached Alice from what seemed like a great distance. As if they hadn’t just been happily joining hands. “How about we all just mellow out to some music then? You don’t have to play. Promise.”

Alice could feel the knot in her chest tighten. And in spite of herself, she fought down tears. Why did every fiber inside her scream to play her instrument, to sing her songs, when doing so had brought nothing but pain?

“Yeah. Okay.” Alice resumed walking down the gravel path, an unwelcome weight causing her footfalls to feel heavier. She looked up, through the slightly swaying pine trees, and at the mountains towering above. They weren’t unlike the skyscrapers, with their intimidating height. But unlike the city, these mountains had a way of making her feel small, but not forgotten. At the foot of these nature-made monoliths, she felt as though they were trying to teach her something. That she, too, could be seen.

Minutes later, the sounds of voices and instruments joined together began drifting from a small grove in the woods. Sunset had begun, the final rays of light finding their way through the trees and into a grove where a small group of people were gathered.

“Good times!

These are the good times!

Leave your cares behind!...”

A smile tugged at Alice’s lips. “I know this song! My mom…she dances like a total dork to it when no one’s watching.”

“I’d say your mom’s got good taste,” Dawn said, clapping Alice on the back.

Together, they wound through the small encirclement of trees, the music and voices causing Alice’s heart to race.

Alice counted five people sitting on logs around a low fire: a small drum set played by a slender man with an afro, his aviator sunglasses reflecting the orange sun; two men – Alice assumed they were a couple by how they sat next to each other and gazed into each other’s eyes – played acoustic guitars; a woman who could pass as Dawn’s sister sang, her eyes closed, hand raised as though in a trance; a woman with porcelain skin, her long platinum hair swaying as she played a small, electric keyboard. The evening sun caused all their instruments to twinkle and glow, as if what they were doing was…

“Magic…” Alice whispered under her breath. She joined Dawn on a spare log, taking in the sun, the music, and both Dawn and the woman’s voices as they took up the song together. Again, Alice felt the stirring to join them. To lift her voice as she imagined her mother dancing along.

But the voice in her head – the one she listened to most frequently these days – told her she would ruin the performance. Because like so many times before, when she dared to show her face, dared to play her music and sing her songs, the result had always been failure.

Her backpack, now resting at her feet, shifted slightly as it settled on the ground, her ukulele nudging her shin. As if it were a sentient being yearning to do that for which it was created.

Alice looked away, content to just…listen. To watch Dawn take up the chorus with her friends as the fire crackled and popped merrily in the background. Maybe she wasn’t meant to play music. Maybe the purpose of this journey was to learn to appreciate it from a distance. Perhaps this was the change she needed.

“Do you know why we come back to Wonderland every year?” Dawn suddenly asked. Alice looked at the woman, her dark skin glowing in the light of the fire. “It isn’t about ‘just getting away’ or ‘just being a hippie’ …though that last part’s pretty fun.” She nudged Alice and winked. “But most importantly, it’s about letting go. Letting go of all the negativity we endure. Both from the outside, and the inside. No prison is more powerful than the ones we build for ourselves.”

“Our new state of mind!

These are the good times!...”

Alice blinked, and felt a tear roll down her cheek. The music she heard no longer felt like it was merely around her, but moving through her. A melody coursing through her bones and renewing something she didn’t know was broken. She revisited the moments she scowled at the person she saw in the mirror. The moments her voice and her songs were deemed “unworthy.” They were all part of the prison. Dawn, with her kindness and patience, had given her the key to walk free.

She didn’t need to make herself seen, for she had never left.

Alice reached for the ukulele in her bag and withdrew it, cradling it in her arms. She took in the singers and players, absorbed in the music and song, and found she was already with them. With a gratifying sigh at the star flecked heavens, Alice put fingers to strings, and began to sing.