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Description
Valentine’s Day is a wonderful time, full of love and flowers and beautiful music.  People have a special bounce in their step, the air seems just a bit sweeter, and shopkeepers’ eyes gleam just a light more brightly at thinking about how much money they’re going to make.  Yes, Valentine’s Day is indeed a wonderful time.

Unless, of course, one is single, in which case it’s nothing but a miserable slog through miles of red, pink, and white decorations, trying to keep from retching at the sight of lovesick couples walking arm in arm as they coo sopping nonsense at one another.

Alice shook her head, trying to dislodge such thoughts.  She really wasn’t usually so bitter about Valentine’s Day.  Last year she had listened with pleasure as Belle recounted how she had spent the day with the Prince formerly known as Beast.  But now just seeing her friend, along with the other princesses, get so excited about what their beloveds had planned for them—well, Alice supposed gagging her friends would be considered rude.  Pity, that.

There was no prince in Alice’s story.  She accepted that, and even understood it.  She had been so young, after all, a mere child.  Though there was the fact Snow White had been all of fourteen—but she was straying from the point.  Alice wasn’t a child any longer, and she wanted the kind of happiness she saw on her friends’ faces.

But no, instead of a prince, she had a madman named Reginald with a mercury-addled brain and a penchant for tea and oversized hats, who refused to leave her alone.  Unfair did not even begin to encapsulate the situation.

Speaking of the oaf, there he was now, waving his arms wildly from some distance down the street, no doubt trying to capture her attention.  How he thought anyone could miss him in that blazing orange jacket of his was a mystery unto itself, though Alice did her best to pretend she did not see him and hurried her pace to walk past him.

“Alice!  Dearest darlingest Cricket, wait a moment!”  Reg cried, trotting along beside her.  “I have a present for you!”

Alice felt a cold chill run up and down her spine at the mere thought of what Reginald might deem an acceptable Valentine’s gift.  Some horribly gaudy bit of jewelry that lit up and played “It’s a small world” or perhaps more flowers that would insult and berate her.  Or something equally awful that her mind couldn’t even steel enough bravery to imagine.

“I will accept no gift from the likes of you,” Alice said haughtily, tossing her hair back and turning into the bookshop, closing the door behind her and muting the Hatter’s sputtered protests.

The next few days were spent dodging Reginald, and this took up so much of her time and energy that Alice barely noticed when Valentine’s Day itself came around.   Well, at least until she made it to the bookshop and saw Belle had decorated the place, and was practically floating as she said good morning to Alice, who replied with a terse “morning” and just refrained from rolling her eyes.  It was a near thing, though.

They had very few customers that day, so Alice spent most of her time curled up in a corner reading, and trying to avoid Belle.  She succeeded in this for the most part, until Belle came up to her towards afternoon with something red in her hand.

“Your admirer asked me to give this to you, since you seem determined to avoid him at all costs,” the brown-haired girl said, sounding highly amused.

“I cannot believe he roped you into this nonsense, Belle,” Alice said accusingly.  But Belle paid her no mind, simply holding out the gift.  With great reluctance, Alice took it.

It was a Valentine, obviously handmade.  The heart shape was a bit lopsided, and there had been far too much lace and glitter used, but it was still a valiant effort.  The card read “All I can offer you this Valentine’s Day is my heart, and a kiss.  With love, Reg” followed by several x’s and o’s.  And indeed, attached to the card with a great deal of tape was a chocolate kiss.

It was silly, and childish, and absolutely appalling simple compared to what she knew her friends would be getting from their husbands and sweethearts.  And yet Alice found herself smiling as she carefully removed the chocolate from the paper heart and ate it.  As she chewed the chocolatey morsel, a plan came upon her.  After making sure she had the correct supplies for such a plan, she got straight to work.

She hardly noticed when Belle left for the day, only acknowledging her enough to nod when Belle told her to lock up when she was done.  She may have heard the brown-haired beauty humming “Love is in the air” under her breath, but Alice chose to ignore it.

Some time later Alice did close up the bookshop.  If one had been there to notice, one might have thought she was looking for someone, the way her eyes kept darting around.  As by now everyone knew who Alice was mostly looking for (thereby knowing how she could avoid him) no one would have been surprised at this demeanor.  However, the fact that when walking down the street and coming upon the usual cause of her ire, she did not turn and walk the other way, would have been a shock to some people.  An even further shock would be that it was she who approached him, a bit of red paper clutched in one hand.

Before Reg had a chance to say anything, Alice pressed the Valentine into his hand.  It was better made than his, the heart perfectly symmetrical and the handwriting flawless.  It read: “A kiss for you on Valentine’s Day as well.  Love, Alice.”

Reg turned the card over several times, but could find no chocolate attached to the card.  As he turned to look quizzically at Alice, he felt a gentle brush of lips on his cheek.  He sputtered and stuttered and turned a bright shade of red, as Alice smiled cheekily at him before turning on her heel and walking away.  She stopped only once, momentarily, to look back and say “Happy Valentine’s Day, Reginald” before continuing on, whistling “My Funny Valentine.”

The man often called the Mad Hatter stood in the street a long while, until Alice was out of sight entirely.  He had a smile on his face that could best be described as “twitterpated” and did not seem to notice at all the gathering dusk.  When he finally came out of his lovesick stupor, he crowed and cheered several times, clicking his heels and making a general spectacle of himself.

Many couples out that night watched as Reg danced down the street doing what some called a waltz, others called a samba, a few called a cha-cha, and most just called a cry for help and lots of Ritalin.  However, as they were far used to such antics from the man by now, they paid little mind to him, or to the scrap of red paper and lace that he had reverently placed in the breast pocket of his jacket.

Later that evening, Alice sat at her bedroom vanity, brushing her hair.  Reginald’s Valentine lay propped up against her jewelry box, and as she looked down at it, she smiled and thought that Valentine’s Day really wasn’t so terrible after all.