The Kew Garden
“S o let’s get done with all of the chitchats,” Constance offers, and she is right. My head is spinning, and I don’t exactly know what we are doing here.
“Exactly,” I back her up. “The March has to see the mushrooms so he can remember.”
“Do you want to see the mushrooms, March?” the Red Queen asks him.
Still clinging to her like his new perfect mother, he sniffs and nods.
“Frabjous,” she says, pulling out large keys and pointing at a golden door behind her.
Closer, it turns out the door isn’t gold, but the sunshine behind is, or whatever that brilliant light shining through.
“The mushrooms inside imitate such colors sometimes,” the Red Queen explains then gently pats the March Hare. “Ready?”
“I want to remember where the Six Keys are.”
“It’s time, March,” I pat him gently.
The Red Queen is about to insert the key as she stops and gazes at Lewis. “I think it’d be a better idea if Jack takes Lewis away from here.”
“Lewis?” I say. “Why?
Lewis looks troubled. I don’t know what’s happening to him since we’ve arrived. He looks away and says nothing.
“Can you handle it, Lewis?” the Red Queen asks him.
Lewis is about to stutter something, but I cut in, “Handle what?”
“I suppose you don’t understand his pain, do you?” she tells me.
I blink, saying nothing. The answer does occur to me all of a sudden but better hear it from her.
“It’s his addiction to mushrooms,” she addresses me. “You see, this garden has the most authentic plants in the world. Unfortunately, some of them are rare drugs. That’s why we have our police guarding us. The men on the hill,” she says.“Lewis is still an addict, Alice. He’s never recovered, at least not in the presence of the rare mushrooms.”
Poor Lewis. Spontaneously my eyes dart toward Fabiola. Didn’t she take the mushrooms as well?
“Don’t look at Fabiola,” the Red Queen. “She isn’t an addict anymore. She is only messed up from inside out.”
Fabiola purses her lips. No need to comment now, as we have more significant issues to work on.
“Why not addicted?” I feel sorry asking the Red Queen about Fabiola in her presence.
My words upset Fabiola a little. She is not upset with me. But with a memory. I feel like she is resisting a tear to leave her eyes.
The Red Queen answers on the White Queen’s behalf. “Fabiola is still an addict, but she is strong. She has substituted her addiction with the addiction for blood. Why do you think she hid in the Vatican? In hopes of toning down the urgencies through a spiritual calling.”
“I’m sorry,” I pay my respect to Fabiola. I’ve always liked her. “It must have been horrible.”
“What’s more horrible,” the Red Queen says. “Is those she lost in the process,” her eyes and Fabiola’s meet. “Especially that one person who offered to help her the most.”