THE PRESENT: A HOTEL ROOM IN OXFORD
T he Cheshire booked a room in the hotel after they’d told him they had a DVD player inside. In spite of being penniless, he used Jack’s charm on the receptionist, a blond girl, whom he showed a card trick. One of the benefits of having access to Jack’s mind — and a possible generous source of income in the future.
The Cheshire entered the room and turned on the DVD, then pushed a stolen version of Titanic in. People had told him Titanic was the cheesiest when it came to illogical portrayals of romance on film.
The Cheshire liked that. He was experiencing the same thing in Jack’s head; his continuing love for Alice both annoyed and amazed the Cheshire.
An hour and a half into the movie, the Cheshire was weeping into tissues—he was glad no one was watching him.
But he couldn’t help it. Love and sacrifice were new concepts to him, let alone coming from the freakin’ humans.
He began regretting the way he’d earlier celebrated the Bad Alice’s return with the Queen of Hearts on the phone. Of course, Alice being the Real Alice, satisfied his insatiable desire to hurt humans in this world. But only if he hadn’t entered Jack’s body and brain.
Why did I ever possess his soul?
Now, sitting here, his tears wetting his cheeks, he didn’t know whether to help Alice become a hero or resort to the evil one she had always been. It was a shame she didn’t know someone like Jack loved her so much. Even the Cheshire had begun having feelings for Alice.
How he wished someone loved him this way. The last cat he’d loved back in Belgium was a fraud. She was after the delicious rat he’d just caught.
But maybe the Cheshire was destined to become Jack. Alice’s lover. As weird and creepy as it was, even to him, it seemed his only way out of his pain of being a nobody.
Possessing any soul he wished didn’t prove him as invincible as he’d always thought. It was time for the Cheshire to be somebody. Jack seemed like a good choice.
Besides, he had begun to fall in love with the card player.
But still, sometimes, the older Cheshire rose inside and wanted to vomit all of this love out. Yuck. It was as bitter as expired milk.
The Cheshire, confused like never before, sat on the bed with one last idea in his head. The most interesting, actually. He vowed not to make a decision about Jack’s love for Alice, not before he knew why Jack came back for her.
If he could only locate that part of the memory in Jack’s brain.