small booth at Bayou Bob's Crab Shack, a small and slightly dingy place Alice had recommended for its gumbo and crawfish etoufee. Max worked on a bowl of their excellent gumbo with gusto while Alice watched and drank from her unsweetened ice tea. She seemed to enjoy watching his appreciation for the food.
When he put his spoon down, she looked at him speculatively and asked, “So, what got you so riled up today?”
That ruined the afterglow of the gumbo for Max. His face fell.
“You look like a lost boy, Max.”
It was ironically apropos considering his earlier reference to never-never land. Max shook his head, met her eyes. “I'm either going insane, or the world is. Right now, it's an even toss which is who. I don't think I can even talk about it.”
Alice smiled kindly. “Give it a try. Sometimes I can believe six impossible things before breakfast.”
By the tone of her voice, Max knew she must have been quoting something. He said hesitantly, “Shakespeare?”
Alice laughed. “I think your northern education was a little lacking, Mr. Faust. It was the White Queen in Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll.”
Max looked at her blankly.
“You know, Alice in Wonderland...” He shook his head in confusion. “The Cheshire Cat?” He raised one eyebrow. Alice's own eyes were wide in astonishment.
“How can you not know about Alice?”
Max then pushed his eyebrows down in concentration. “Cheshire...” He snapped his fingers, leaving his index finger pointed at her. “Right! Cheshire. Like the Cheshire sauce I put on my steak. I love that stuff! Never tried it on a cat before.”
Alice gaped at him again and then it was her turn to scowl, “Oh, you are an evil, rotten man Mr. Faust! You sure had me going!”
Max laughed and smiled. “I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist. Please forgive me? Please?”
Alice flapped her hand at him. “Okay, Okay, I hate to see a boy beg. You're forgiven.”
Max smiled some more while making a note to himself that he needed to pick up a copy of Through the Looking Glass.
His smile disappeared when she added, “On the condition that you tell me what's happened that has you so flustered.”
He looked at her, truly afraid of what she would think, but he couldn't ignore the pressure in her gaze. He hesitated and then said in a low voice as she leaned forward to hear him, “My house is haunted.”
She sat back and flapped her hand at him again. “Oh, pshaw! Just about everyone around these parts has a ghost in their house.”
“No, I mean really haunted. Haunted by actual ghosts!”
“Of course you're haunted by ghosts, silly man, what else would you be haunted with?”
Max looked at her as if he had just bitten down on a lemon. “Oh, everything is so clear now. Thank you for making that so easy, Alice.”
Alice gave a lighthearted laugh and a little bow of her head, acknowledging her cheap shot. She said, “Okay, so maybe not everyone has a ghost, but most of the people I know would love to have a real ghost in their house. It's terribly exciting and romantic.”
Max perked back in surprise. “Romantic, how is a ghost romantic?”
“Well, here in the south, we are terribly in love with our history, and a ghost is a connection to that history. Maybe it's some poor girl who lost her true love in the war. Maybe a runaway slave who died of heartbreak because he left his family in slavery...”
Max looked skeptical. “That's romantic is it?”
Alice laughed a little self-consciously. “Yes it is. Ghosts are always victims of terrible or wondrous passions.” She stirred her tea and watched the ice cubes swirl around for a moment. “It's just that, for most of our lives, we live without any passion. We go through the motions, doing what we have to do. Those ghosts, their lives were larger than ours. They remind us that our little everyday trials and tribulations are not what life is truly about.”
“I don't know about that, Alice. I've gone through a
When he put his spoon down, she looked at him speculatively and asked, “So, what got you so riled up today?”
That ruined the afterglow of the gumbo for Max. His face fell.
“You look like a lost boy, Max.”
It was ironically apropos considering his earlier reference to never-never land. Max shook his head, met her eyes. “I'm either going insane, or the world is. Right now, it's an even toss which is who. I don't think I can even talk about it.”
Alice smiled kindly. “Give it a try. Sometimes I can believe six impossible things before breakfast.”
By the tone of her voice, Max knew she must have been quoting something. He said hesitantly, “Shakespeare?”
Alice laughed. “I think your northern education was a little lacking, Mr. Faust. It was the White Queen in Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll.”
Max looked at her blankly.
“You know, Alice in Wonderland...” He shook his head in confusion. “The Cheshire Cat?” He raised one eyebrow. Alice's own eyes were wide in astonishment.
“How can you not know about Alice?”
Max then pushed his eyebrows down in concentration. “Cheshire...” He snapped his fingers, leaving his index finger pointed at her. “Right! Cheshire. Like the Cheshire sauce I put on my steak. I love that stuff! Never tried it on a cat before.”
Alice gaped at him again and then it was her turn to scowl, “Oh, you are an evil, rotten man Mr. Faust! You sure had me going!”
Max laughed and smiled. “I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist. Please forgive me? Please?”
Alice flapped her hand at him. “Okay, Okay, I hate to see a boy beg. You're forgiven.”
Max smiled some more while making a note to himself that he needed to pick up a copy of Through the Looking Glass.
His smile disappeared when she added, “On the condition that you tell me what's happened that has you so flustered.”
He looked at her, truly afraid of what she would think, but he couldn't ignore the pressure in her gaze. He hesitated and then said in a low voice as she leaned forward to hear him, “My house is haunted.”
She sat back and flapped her hand at him again. “Oh, pshaw! Just about everyone around these parts has a ghost in their house.”
“No, I mean really haunted. Haunted by actual ghosts!”
“Of course you're haunted by ghosts, silly man, what else would you be haunted with?”
Max looked at her as if he had just bitten down on a lemon. “Oh, everything is so clear now. Thank you for making that so easy, Alice.”
Alice gave a lighthearted laugh and a little bow of her head, acknowledging her cheap shot. She said, “Okay, so maybe not everyone has a ghost, but most of the people I know would love to have a real ghost in their house. It's terribly exciting and romantic.”
Max perked back in surprise. “Romantic, how is a ghost romantic?”
“Well, here in the south, we are terribly in love with our history, and a ghost is a connection to that history. Maybe it's some poor girl who lost her true love in the war. Maybe a runaway slave who died of heartbreak because he left his family in slavery...”
Max looked skeptical. “That's romantic is it?”
Alice laughed a little self-consciously. “Yes it is. Ghosts are always victims of terrible or wondrous passions.” She stirred her tea and watched the ice cubes swirl around for a moment. “It's just that, for most of our lives, we live without any passion. We go through the motions, doing what we have to do. Those ghosts, their lives were larger than ours. They remind us that our little everyday trials and tribulations are not what life is truly about.”
“I don't know about that, Alice. I've gone through a
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