I dreamed now. Who was Alice? Who was the White Rabbit? Was Mariann’s boyfriend afraid of her? Afraid of how much he loved her, perhaps? Afraid of falling so deep down the rabbit hole he lost more of himself than just his name? Who was the Queen of Hearts?

I woke up to the sound of rain tapping against the car window. We were going somewhere. Mariann was driving silently; shadows from the raindrops sliding down the window fell on her cheeks, turning her grey eyes to clouds.

Something warm behind me stirred. I slowly pulled myself off of Mariann’s boyfriend, who still slept, long lashes kissing his face. Black lipstick was smudged across his chin. I smiled inwardly.

“Where are we going?” I asked Mariann.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Mariann raised her eyebrows.

The windshield wipers swished quietly in the downpour. Mariann clicked on the radio, love songs softly humming in between bouts of static from the weather.

We drove all through the day. Mariann’s boyfriend waking up when we stopped the car at a gas station to stock up on snacks. He stood on one hand on the curb to cartwheel onto the sidewalk before splashing inside. It reminded me of when we first met.

Back on the road. The rain broke in the late afternoon and the sky lit up with a double rainbow.

“We’re close,” Mariann said.
We flew down an exit past a sign which read “Color Town.”

Mariann pulled us into the parking lot of a vividly painted hotel. It looked like a neon version of Disney’s Cinderella castle. Its sign read: “Vivienne’s Dream Hotel.”

Two teenagers ran out of the building.

“Is that Mariann and Zeus?!!”

A tall, pretty girl with pale skin, shoulder length hair and a slender figure, wearing jeans and a black v-neck was closely followed by an equally tall, equally pretty boy with a fluffy afro, black eyes and chocolatey skin wearing a navy button-up and jeans as they rushed out to greet the golden sports car.

Mariann rolled down the window and raised her eyebrows twice, jokingly. Then she laughed and got out of the car, hugging them around the waist, dwarfed by their stature.

Mariann’s boyfriend and I got out of the car.

“Meet Marigold and Julian,” she gestured at the teens grandly. “Marigold is 16 and Julian is 18. Their parents run this wonder-palace.” Marigold and Julian grinned. I doubted those were their real names.

The teens hugged Mariann’s boyfriend — “ZEUS! What is up? Missed you man.” — and then me — “Good to meet you! What’s your name, sister?”

Mariann cut me off before I had the chance to decide how to answer.

“This is Alice,” she winked at me.

I certainly felt like Alice.

I wondered if Mariann’s boyfriend felt like Zeus when he was with her here. Perhaps Mariann was sharp like that, choosing your name-for-the-moment to fit your mood. Or maybe she created a situation in which she would be right about how you felt because she made you feel that way intentionally.

Mariann tossed the keys to Julian and he grinned and hopped into the golden sports car and zoomed it off to a purple painted parking garage.

Marigold led us inside. It was like stepping into a jungle — like a jungle that Lisa Frank had designed: rainforest plants with neon-edged leaves: pink, orange, blue, green, yellow… A wall waterfall gushed pink water. The lobby was full of lush couches and chairs painted with orchid patterns, and real orchids sitting on fluorescent coffee tables in front of them. I briefly wondered if we had stepped in side a little girl’s coloring book.

We made our way up a spiral staircase — each step a different neon color.

“I refresh your room everyday,” Marigold said proudly, “just like you asked when you —”

Mariann held up her hand and Marigold instantly fell silent, cheeks flushing.

Mariann, sensing that she was embarrassed, lay a hand on her shoulder and winked: “You’ve gotta save me some magic.”

Marigold smiled.

We climbed higher and higher, up and up until we reached the top — a hallway of colorful hotel rooms. And then tall Marigold grabbed a light fixture on the ceiling and yanked it down to reveal a set of steps inset with neon lights. Each step glowed with the design of a vibrant tropical bird. We went up higher.

We entered a full suite. Scintillating pale blue chandeliers, intricately painted neon jungle wallpaper, huge beds with sheer curtains embroidered with orchids. Everything shimmered.

“I’ll bring up some dinner?” Marigold made it a question.

“We’ll come down for it.”

Marigold broke into a bright smile, eyes sparkling in anticipation. Then she went back down the steps, and it was just the three of us again.

I had never felt so calm and excited at the same time.

Mariann flung open a door painted with neon-edged rain clouds to reveal an enormous bathroom.

The bath was the size of a small swimming pool. Mariann turned on the tap and the wall furthest from us became a waterfall of steamy water filling up the pool.

The sink had a huge counter on which sat a luxurious collection of beauty products, including a tiered tray of bath bombs.

Mariann tossed us each two and — grinning — launched hers into the steamy clear water. They instantly fizzed and the water turned orange and blue. Mariann’s boyfriend and I followed suit — turning the water into a unicorn’s pond.

Mariann stepped behind an ornate changing screen and flung her clothes onto the ground messily outside of it. She plunged out into the bath, concealed by the colored water.

I stepped behind the screen and stripped off my clothes. The steps leading into the bath began behind the screen.

The colorful water lapped at my toes as I entered the bath. The warmth relaxed me instantly. The water smelled like Orange Dreamsicles.

Mariann’s boyfriend looked down at us. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“How many times exactly am I going to be surrounded by naked women? You both remember that I am not in fact gay, correct? As in, I am in fact attracted to women —”

“Hurry up and get in,” Mariann rolled her eyes, “Actually, grab the floating candles first. I almost forgot about them.”

Mariann’s boyfriend released a frustrated growl and walked over the sink.

It was at this point that he noticed his reflection in the mirror.

“Have I had this on the whole time?!” He pointed furiously at the smudged black lipstick and smacked a hand to his face.

Mariann and I started giggling uproariously as he (in a very practiced way) yanked the pink top off a tub of vaseline and began wiping at his face with a tissue.

He pouted at us indignantly, which only made us laugh harder at his facial fiasco.

“Come on, Harley! The water’s getting cold!” Mariann teased.

(It most definitely was not. The bath was one-hundred-percent heated.)

Mariann’s boyfriend chucked a bath bomb at her that bounced comically off of her head.

I snorted at her, unable to contain my guffaws and got a face full of water in return, sweet-smelling blue and purple droplets running down my face.

We were all laughing then; Mariann’s boyfriend rolling his eyes, but smiling in spite of himself.

Lined up on a shelf above the sink were a set of candleholders shaped like lillypads with flower-shaped candles. Mariann’s boyfriend began lighting them and floating them out onto the water.

Then he finally stepped behind the screen and joined us. His colorful hair made him look like another lillypad.

We soaked in silence, watching the floating candles cast shadows on the water.

Mariann and I watched the fire sparkle in Mariann’s boyfriend’s eyes. He was staring intently at the flame which made his eyes look like fireworks.

I noticed how enamored by pretty things he was. Mariann’s boyfriend was an unusual person in this sense. He was more enchanted by aesthetics than the average person. The level of his intrigue with the visual, with beautiful clothes, beautiful motion, beautiful things… I think that was one of the reasons he loved Mariann so much. Because she could provide him access to things that normal people didn’t get to see.

And he was beautiful. I had always known this. But he really was. The fire in his eyes, water dripping from his hair, the shine of his slender, solid body… 

And Mariann. She was beautiful. But in a different way. A self-made machine. A robot who was its own master. She was her own puppet, a vessel for her games. She saw the big picture — she mastered it, controlled it and was only so much a part of it as she wanted to be.

So who was I?