The Alice Incident

I’m sitting in my office, carefully reviewing my notes for my next session. The room around me is dark, so dark that everything is just a vague hint of itself. Just the way I like it. It’s the perfect place to reflect and ponder, to look within oneself and meet the gaze of whatever stares back at you.

I find this is very calming, which is most important for my patients, all of whom tend to be a bit on the high-strung side.

Especially my next one.

Even as I pour over the pages on the desk before me, I keep half an eye on the clock hanging on the wall. I count down the last seconds, and precisely as the hands reach one o’clock and the chime sounds, my office door flies open.

“I’m late! I’m late! I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!” A large, white rabbit, clad in a dark jacket and bright red waistcoat, bounds into the room. In his forepaws he clutches a large, golden pocket watch, holding it close to his chest even as he peers at its glittering glass face. “Hello! Goodbye! I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!”

I greet him with a big grin, long since accustomed to this dramatic form of entrance. “No, Mr. Rabbit, you are not late. You are, in fact, precisely on time.”

The rabbit comes to a sudden halt, teetering for a moment before regaining his balance. “I am?”

“Yes. You are.”

He peeks at his watch. “Are you certain?”

“I am.”

A frown crosses his face. For those who have never seen a rabbit frown, it’s an indescribable sight. “Perhaps I’ve forgotten to wind this thing again.”

“Perhaps,” I allow, my grin undiminished. “But I believe we’ve discussed your… preoccupation with timeliness?”

His ears twitch. “Why, I quite believe you’re right.”

“And what resolution did we reach?”

“That I should not be so preoccupied with timeliness?”

“That’s correct.”

Now his nose twitches. “It’s… it’s simply that the last time I was late—”

“I quite understand, Mr. Rabbit. But we’ve been over all that. It is past, and what must we do going forward?”

His paws twitch. “Not dwell upon what is past.”

“Correct. Now, please, why don’t you take a seat, and make yourself comfortable?”

I know, most people would be rather disbelieving of the notion of a rabbit wearing a waistcoat, or taking a seat in one’s office, or seeking therapy altogether. But one must understand, in the place in which I dwell, it is quite a common occurrence. Indeed, a great many of my patients are creatures which normally wouldn’t be able to reason or communicate in any rational manner, much less require the services of a therapist. I try not to dwell on the incongruity; I imagine if I did, I would go quite mad.

Then again, you know what they say about this place…

The rabbit glances about, then hops onto a nearby couch. The one nearest the door, I note. As he makes a production of settling into his seat, I see him peek furtively at his pocket watch.

“Mr. Rabbit, could we please abide by another of our little agreements, and refrain from checking our timepieces for the duration of our session?”

This time both his ears and his nose twitch. “Very well.” With clear reluctance, he tucks his watch into the pocket of his waistcoat, where it makes quite an obtrusive bulge.

“Excellent,” I say, my tone as bright and cheerful as my grin. “Now, how are we feeling today?” My pen poises over a fresh piece of paper.

The rabbit gives voice to a histrionic sigh. “As if I’m late,” he says, in a most dolorous tone. One paw twitches toward his pocket, and he makes a visible effort to control himself. “I don’t quite know what I’m late for, but I’m positive I’m late for something.”

“Mm-hmm. Mr. Rabbit, do you recall the possible solution we discussed to this perception of lateness?”

His whole body gives a convulsive twitch. “Quite out of the question.”

“Hmmm. But don’t you see, without a watch, without a way to gauge the time, you might—”

“No, no, and again, no.” Now his paw does clutch frantically at his pocket. “I’ve only just recently purchased this watch. Quite expensive you know. After what the Hatter did to my last one, well, I couldn’t bear to simply cast this one aside.”

“Ah. Still dwelling on the occurrence at your last Unbirthday Party?”

“Of course I am!” the rabbit shouts. “My favorite watch, buttered, jammed, and very nearly mustarded! Ruined! Never worked properly after that!”

“I see,” I say, scribbling a note regarding Mr. Rabbit’s continued strong feelings regarding the Hatter and the near ruination of his favorite pocket watch. “Let us move on. How are things around the home?”

The rabbit’s furry face descends into a gloomy scowl. “And what home would that be? In case you’ve forgotten, I am currently, ah, between residences.”

I let my grin convey the depth of my sympathy. “Still having difficulties with your insurance provider?”

“Naturally,” the rabbit mutters. “Apparently ‘destruction by giant person’ doesn’t fall under the umbrella of their coverage. Skin-flinted bureaucrats.”

“Tut-tut, Mr. Rabbit. We must not cast aspersions on others, no matter how we may feel it is deserved. And remember, it was you who started throwing stones at your house, claiming it was the only way to drive this ‘giant person’ off. It is no wonder that you knocked over your fire grate and burnt the place to the ground.”

His paws twitch so ferociously that he clutches them together to still them. “May we move on?”

“As you wish.” I make another note, this one regarding Mr. Rabbit’s continued strong feelings about his home insurers. “Would you like to talk about your work?”

Mr. Rabbit’s ears and nose twitch, but not all at once, rather one at a time. “Not really.”

“I see. I take it you haven’t heeded my counsel.”

“It’s not so easy as you would have me believe,” the rabbit says, a tone in his voice almost of pleading. “One simply does not turn in notice to the Queen of Hearts. I daresay, she’d have my head off before you could say ‘off with his head.’”

“Perhaps,” I reply. “But it is clear that working as her herald has made you… a bit unbalanced. Hours long and odd, duties that many would see as most unpleasant, not to mention her alluded proclivity for ordering the execution of anyone who displeases her in the slightest way. Not exactly a dream job, now is it?”

“Be that as it may,” the rabbit says with a twitch of his nose. “Everything in my life was quite all right, thank you very much, until…” He trails off with a dark look.

And there it is. We’ve finally reached the heart of the matter. “Until the Alice incident.”

“Alice,” the rabbit says, making the name into a malicious hiss. “She… she is the past. We mustn’t speak of her.”

My eyes narrow, even as my grin widens. “I think that, just this once, we might indulge ourselves. For the betterment of your mental health, of course.”

“What is there to say that hasn’t already been said?” the rabbit splutters. “She destroyed my favorite watch! She demolished my home! She infuriated my employer! She… she made me late!” He mops at his brow with a soft paw, breathing heavily, as though he’s just run a race.

“Mm-hmm.” I scribble another note regarding his clear and continued strong feelings regarding Alice. “Mr. Rabbit, I believe it’s time to entertain a truly radical notion. One that may just aid you in moving past this whole Alice issue.”

He perks up, staring at me curiously. “Yes?”

I let my smile widen further. “There is no Alice.”

He blinks. And his ears twitch. And his nose, too. “No Alice?”

“Indeed. You’ve seen this Alice on exactly one day, a day when very much went wrong in your life. Since then, you’ve had no further encounters with any little girl named Alice. I propose that she was nothing more than a figment of your imagination.”

 “Why… why… that’s not possible!” he bursts out.

“And why do you think that?”

“Well, there’s my watch… and my home… and my job…”

“The Hatter destroyed your watch, you admitted that you were throwing stones at your house, and, well, there is little needs be said about your employer.”

“But… but others saw her as well,” the rabbit says triumphantly.

“Yes, the Hatter, Her Majesty… others as well… but it wouldn’t be the first time we all saw something that wasn’t really there, now would it?” My ever-present grin turns a little condescending. “After all, you know what they say about this place…”

The rabbit appears on the verge of tears, as if I’ve ruined something he held dear, and he simply doesn’t know how to cope with it. “If that’s true… if there is no Alice… then what does that say about me? What does it mean for my life? I… I don’t quite know how to manage this notion.”

At that instant, my clock chimes as it strikes the next hour. “Ah, Mr. Rabbit, I’m afraid that signals the end of our session for today. Perhaps we can take this up again next week? Same place, same time?”

His ears and nose twitch. A single tears trickles into his fur. “But… could you perhaps extend our session? I truly need help coming to terms with this revelation.”

“Oh, my dear Mr. Rabbit,” I say, grinning in commiseration with his suffering. “I would love to, but I have another, most pressing appointment.

“And I certainly don’t want to be late.”