Ep. 24- Alice’s Absence
Alice has never been in love.
She grew up hearing the word- not from parents or friends or boyfriends or girlfriends, but from the many screens that dotted her daily life.
It might have been in a dark small town theater before she could even form words- a man and woman on a magic carpet promising each other a whole new world. That might have been the first time she’d heard of the idea. It came up time and time again, story after story. Love this, love that. Love is patient, love is kind, love overcomes all, the power of love, love won’t let you down, etc.
But love, like faith, always felt distant to Alice, like a concept she could only play act if given enough time, props and costume. Alice would never become famous on the great stages of The Real, but she would give her greatest performances when attempting to portray the act of love.
Alice had empathy. Alice had kindness. Alice could even be naturally selfless when the urgency struck her.
But love?
Love simply did not compute. Lust? Sure. Want? Certainly. The occasional desire to fill her inner silence with the voice of another person? Rare, but it could happen. But limitless, unconditional love, the kind her therapists would promise was normal to nurture and the kind the silver screens would promise her comes to all in due time?
Hardly.
It wasn’t an “edgelord” thing. It wasn’t some great crusade. Alice wasn’t against love. In fact, she was very jealous of those who could work the emotional math out. She wanted to believe in love, just as she wished she could believe in a god, just as she wished she could take a psychic at face value, just as she wished she could laugh at a comedy or enjoy a song from the top 40 or or or or….
Love?
Alice could understand her stuffed animals better than she could people.
Maybe that’s why Arcana makes so much more sense to Alice than The Real ever could. Maybe that’s why she feels so at ease now.
After all, this feels like something she’d have made up, playing alone in her own corner of the school playground. Alice surrounded herself with specters and drawings and action figures and bean plushies when other humans couldn’t- or wouldn’t- do.
Why not a world called Arcana?
As for love?
Well, this was never reeeeeally a story about love- but absence.
Everyone in Arcana is defined by an absence.
And for Alice- her absence is that of love. Not that Alice wasn’t loved- there were many who loved her very dearly- we’ll meet them sooner or later or have already.
The tragedy of Alice is not that she was not loved, but that the tools to process that love- receive it- return it, conventionally, in a way that would trigger the chemicals in her brain to allow her to “experience” love in the cerebral way we all take for granted- were absent.
Alice has tried to be in love. Alice has participated in the act of being in love. Alice has been loved. But Alice has never been in love.
int. hermit’s hovel night
This is a story, after all, and at some point, someone has to do something.
So here we are, back at the hermit’s hovel. The full party- freshly introduced, is still hear beneath the orange glow of the Hermit’s lantern. The Knight of Cups, quietly puffing his pipe. The Queen of Swords, poised forward, her porcelain mask tipped slightly upwards to reveal her red lips, a bottle of fajro juice in hand. The Devil and the Hanged Woman, who shift uncomfortably, the Devil has a hand placed on the arm of the Hanged Woman- she lets it linger for a moment before retracting her arm within her costume. The Pale Horse remains an austere, distant statue determined to stand a monument to grouchiness apart from the group. The Hermit is perfectly still, his cloudy eyes peering at the Alice, who is at the center of this group, the unwitting star.
HERMIT
Well, Alice, such as you are, what do you notice about all your new friends? Answer quickly, don’t overthink.
ALICE
(practically blurting it out)
You’re all fallen cards.
The party cannot help but look from one to another- their surprise revealed by the newcomer’s assessment. One by one, they look to the Pale Horse. He gives away no emotion in his response.
PALE HORSE
I’ve told her nothing.
KNIGHT OF CUPS
(to Alice)
How did you know, child?
ALICE
Because you all seem like you’re missing something.
She looks to the Queen of Swords-
ALICE
A queen with no crown.
The Queen takes a pull of her drink. Alice then returns to the Knight.
ALICE
A knight with no lord or lady to protect.
The Knight sputters on his pipe, surprised. Alice is on a roll, her voice takes an unnatural sharpness as she quickens her pace, swinging her gaze to the Devil and the Hanged Woman.
ALICE
A devil with no god and a hanged woman-
The Devil stands up, his eyes glinting from behind his sunglasses.
DEVIL
Choose your next words carefully- whether you’re the Fool or not makes no difference to me, but you’ll leave her out of this-
The Hanged Woman’s hand shoots out of her costume to take hold of the Devil’s arm.
KNIGHT OF CUPS
(struggling to rise to the occasion- and the distraction)
What the Fool Alice speaks is painful, but to threaten a lady is b-b-beneath even you, Devil!
The Queen of Swords hisses at the Devil and the Knight of Cups.
QUEEN OF SWORDS
If you do not keep your peace…I will bite you both to death.
At this she bares her teeth- sharp incisors glistening in the lantern light. Alice finds herself a bit breathless at this sight.
ALICE
Woah…she’s scary…………
