Page 11 of Madness Becomes Her

That’s what my dad used to call me. Back when he was a nice, cheerful person. Back when things were simpler.

“My name is Finlo. Finlo Pennington.”

“Finlo.”

As if my saying his name is the crack in the dam of his madness, his eyes clear, and he stares at me. “I’ve always loved it when you say my name. I’ve been waiting so long for you to come back.”

“Back?” I ask him, but it’s of no use. He’s already back to work on my hat, my head bobbing around as he wraps it in this fabric and that, this color and that one.

Long into the night, I try to stay awake to appease his obsessive side, but it’s not until Finlo’s carrying me to bed that I realize I’d fallen asleep.

“Shh, it’s only me, Elli-roo.”

“Did you finish my hat?” I yawn, snuggling into him as he ascends the stairs to his room.

“No. But it’s one I’ve been working on for a very long time. Perfection has no timetable, only progress does.”

That riddles my brain as he lies me down on the bed, sliding in behind me.

“When did you last see me?” I ask him, feeling just sleepy enough to be on his level of madness.

“When your hair was to your shoulders, and you loved your black and white saddle shoes.” His voice is full of sleep as he answers, but his answer has my heart beating wildly.

My eyes fly open. “It wasn’t a dream?”

I don’t realize I’ve said it aloud until Hatter leans over me, pressing his lips to my ear. “No, Tiger Lily, it wasn’t a dream.”

Lewis throws the teapot,nearly hitting Bonnie in the forehead with it.

She ruffles her feathers. “That’s the third time today!”

“No, it’s merely noon, not the third time!” Lewis shouts back, shaking his watch in the air.

I giggle, swinging my feet back and forth, my saddle shoes colliding now and again as I eat a raspberry tart, the crumbs covering my dress.

“I think that’s quite enough,” Hatter says. “How will we drink the tea when the pot is hanging from that tree?”

I laugh again. “That rhymes.”

Hatter only grins, his eyes softening. “So it does, Tiger Lily. Fetch the pot, will you?”

Nodding, I slide off my massive chair to the ground, the tall grass nearly enveloping me as I shake the bush-like tree to get the checkered teapot free.

It finally falls, and I have to leap backwards not to get hit.

When I make it back to the table, Bonnie is waving a pink wing through the air as she and Lewis shout at one another about time and relativity, whatever that is.

“Here, Fin!” I hold the pot up.

Hatter rolls his eyes at the raucous show at the table—it’s not like it’s new. He takes the pot from me and fills it with tea from his cup.

I open my mouth to tell him he’s done it the wrong way, and then remember where I am.

Nothing makes sense here; that’s the fun of it.

I leave it alone as I climb back atop my chair and grab another tart, this one lemon.

“Don’t ruin your dinner, Elli-roo. You know your father will be angry again,” Hatter tells me, and I sigh.