Furthermore(70)
“Oh, a fine idea, your honorableness!” Paramint was so excited he actually jumped in place. “A fine idea! I’ll bring out a great selection of cakes and pies and muffins for you to feast on!” He was smiling with every bit of his face, so eager to do anything to make them happy. “Is there any other good thing I might do for you, your honorablenesses? Perhaps after you’re done tasting, you’d like some time to dream?”
This last bit caught Alice’s attention, and she was nodding before she’d even asked for details. “That sounds wonderful,” she said. “I would dearly love to dream.”
“Very good, your honorableness,” said Paramint, beaming. “So very, very good. I shall return swiftly.” And with a bow and another smile, Paramint was gone.
Alice immediately turned to Oliver, overcome with excitement. “I’ve missed dreaming so much! I dearly love dreaming, you know. It’s my favorite part of sleeping.”
Oliver laughed. “I can’t believe you’re more excited about sleeping than you are about dessert.”
“Oh,” said Alice, distracted. “That reminds me. What is a filet mignon, exactly?”
Oliver froze, his mouth caught open in a neat little O. “Nothing you need to worry about,” he said hastily. “Nothing at all.”
Alice had never realized what a pleasure it could be to simply wake up in the morning. She and Oliver hadn’t stayed in any town long enough to enjoy the luxury of sleeping (or dreaming), and now, for the first time in what felt like a very, very long time, she blinked open bleary eyes and yawned her way into dawn, stretching one arm and two legs as far as they’d go.
She was muddled and foggy and still a little dozy, but she was happier than she’d ever been in Furthermore, and feeling ready to face the beginning of another endless day.
Alice sprang to her feet and headed to Paramint’s private toilets (which he’d said they might use) and splashed fresh water on her face, stopping to taste the few drops that fell on her lips.
Minty, she thought.
She’d dreamt all night long: topsy-turvy dreams no doubt inspired by her days in Furthermore. She’d been running upside down, her feet stomping along the ceilings of homes she didn’t recognize, chasing a man she thought to be Father. The problem was, every time she got close enough, Oliver would pop out of a window and rip her arm off, and she’d lose track of Father all over again. She’d had to remind herself three times already not to be angry with Oliver for being such a nuisance in her dreams, and just as she was reminding herself for the fourth time, she stepped out of the toilets to find him waiting for her.
“Good morning,” she said with a smile.
“Good morning,” said Oliver, but he looked awful. Half asleep and a little sickly. “Excuse me, Alice,” he said, and nodded toward the toilets. “May I? I’m afraid I’m not feeling very well.”
“Oh, Oliver,” she said. “Is there anything I can do?”
He made a weak effort to shake his head. “I think I’ll just rest here a while, and hope the feeling passes.” He rubbed at his face. “I vow I shall never eat a pie again,” he said, and tried to laugh.
Alice gave him a sympathetic look and nodded. While she’d taken only a few tastes, Oliver had tasted nearly half of everything Paramint brought them last night. She’d asked Oliver several times to take care—which is likely the only reason he hadn’t devoured all ten cakes, seven pies, fifteen muffins, and four puddings—and now she was glad to have guilted him so. She hadn’t known Oliver had such a fondness for these decadent things, though he certainly seemed sorry for it this morning. She patted him on the shoulder and let him pass.
While Oliver locked himself in the toilets, Alice tidied up the rest of the house. She hoped it would be their last day here, so she wanted to do good by Paramint and make sure they left his home just as nice as it was when they arrived. She rolled up the dreaming-bags Paramint brought them (they were little sacks with pillows sewn all along the insides, very soft and cozy), and rearranged all his papers, careful to fold away the list they’d made for Father. She tucked the list into the pocket of her new silk gown (which, for a gown, had proven very comfortable) and then sat down on the pumpkin-orange couch, and waited for Paramint and Oliver.
Except she soon tired of waiting and decided to step outside.
It was a beautiful day, just as she’d expected. The sun had only barely begun to rise, and the land of Left was already in bloom. Its occupants scurried about, hanging freshly laundered clothes and buying freshly baked bread and stopping to chat with neighbors about one fascinating topic or another. The sight of it all made her miss home more than ever.
“Good day to you, your honorableness!” It was an eager and smiling Paramint, who seemed surprised to find her up so early.
“Good day to you, too, Paramint,” she said, smiling just as wide.
“Did you dream well?” he asked. “Did you enjoy the tasting?”
“Yes to both,” she said happily. Then, more quietly, “Though I’m afraid Oliver may have tasted a bit too much.”
Paramint’s eyes went wide for just a moment before he laughed a hearty laugh. “This is excellent news, your honorableness! I’m thrilled to hear he enjoyed himself.”