The white rabbit watched the shiver move from his front paws
to his whiskers. It made his heart skip a bit on its way.
“Her name was Alice,” the rabbit said finally.
The psychotherapist shook his head as if after a long sleep
and sat up straight in his chair. He almost forgot about the rabbit who usually
didn’t say much except for a few remarks on being late, and time in general.
“Alice,” repeated the therapist.
The rabbit fell silent for a bit. He touched his whiskers
trying to stop them vibrating. But his whiskers got way too excited from his
previous statement and refused to be tamed.
“Pretty much just Alice,” said the rabbit, “She was
wonderfully insane.”
A pocket of his waistcoat rang softly.
“She was
never satisfied with her height,” added the rabbit, “Not to mention a strange
addiction to mushrooms.”
The therapist
felt there was more to the story than mushrooms and decided to press the rabbit
for more.
“How did you
meet this Alice?” he asked subtly.
The white
rabbit turned around to look at the therapist. He twitched his nose.
“That’s the
whole point. I have never met her.”
The therapist
let his eyebrows creep up.
“Alice,” said
the rabbit, “met me.”
He told his
therapist how she followed him through the rabbit hole. In the end she
disappeared and the rabbit was never able to find her. He looked everywhere for
her. Now she seemed like a dream, an illusion created by smoke and mushrooms. A
lost little girl that possibly never even existed.
“Possibly?”
asked the therapist.
“But how can
I be sure?” said the rabbit, “I always had my back to her. I heard her steps. I
would see the blue of her dress briefly, but maybe I dreamt her.”
The therapist
thought about it for a minute.
“Would you
like to dream her again?”
The rabbit dropped
his head in trembling paws. His shoulders shivered slightly, and tiny drops of
water fell to the floor. His entire figure, now so small and miserable,
darkened. The rabbit was sobbing, trying to hide his tears with visible
embarrassment. Even his little tail sadly jumped up and down with every sob.
“More than
anything in this world,” said the rabbit finally, “but I fear I’m too late. and
she will never come back.”
The therapist
felt quite sorry for the rabbit. He took a tiny paw in his huge hands and
stroked it carefully.
“Maybe she
isn’t lost yet,” he said to the rabbit.
The rabbit
looked at him with big eyes full of tears. His nose twitched hopefully and he
smiled through the tears.
“Her name is
Alice and she is coming back,” said the white rabbit.
