Little Bunny

The first time I saw him, he was a baby, asleep in his carrier. I stared, thumb in my mouth and my floppy bunny in my free hand. I don’t even know why I remember this. Most people don’t recall memories from the age of two. But this one sticks for some reason.

I remember putting down my bunny and waddling my way over to my room. There, on the dresser sat another little rabbit, much smaller than mine. I loved both rabbits. I loved rabbits in general. I didn’t know what they were called of course, but I loved them anyway.

I grabbed the little one, squeezed it a moment, and left my room. My mother watched from the armchair.

Out in the living room he had woken up. His mother was holding him as he cried, uncomfortable about something. Babies usually are.

My little legs weren’t the fastest, or the longest, and it took a minute, but I climbed up onto the sofa and into his mom’s lap. He looked at me, close enough to see me now. His sobs slowed, but he was still upset. I held up that little bunny and shook it at him. I don’t know if he understood me. He must have, because he let go of his mom’s blouse and reached for it, wrapping his tiny, baby sausage fingers around the belly. I let go. He stopped crying.

“Thank you, Robert,” said his mom. “That was very sweet of you.” She looked up at my mother. “You have a wonderful little gentleman here.” My mom smiled. I didn’t understand. I didn’t need to. I just sat down on the sofa and looked at him.

Later that night, with the fairy lights twinkling along the walkway, I stepped out into the cold of our porch step to say goodbye. His mom took the little rabbit from the carrier and handed it back to me.

I took it and put it back into the carrier.

“Oh, did you give that to Michael as a present?”

I just looked up at her, then walked back into the house.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Want to come play in my room?”

He nodded.

Michael was four. I was six. Much more reasonable memory to have.

There, sticking out of a pocket of his little backpack, sitting on the floor next to the sofa, was the little rabbit.

I took Michael’s hand and led him to my room.

“Wait. Wabbit.” Michael pointed back at his backpack. I let go and he ran back to get it. I waited.

“Hey Michael. Happy Holidays.”

“Hey Robert. Did your mom make you say that?”

I frowned. “Yeah. Moms are the worst.”

“Right? And it’s Mike.”

“Oh, okay. I’m Bobby.” I held out my hand and he shook it. Very grown up. Very mature.

I was thirteen.

“Wanna go play some video games? I’ve got a really cool new racing game.”

“Okay.” We went to my room and he threw his bag on the bed. The little rabbit still hung out of the backpack, a little worn, and now with a small knit sweater with a keychain attached to it. I guess he didn’t want to lose it.

“What do you think they talk about all day, doing nothing?”

“Who?” I sat down in front of my tv stand and switched on the console, handing him a controller.

“Our moms. I mean, I know they’re best friends, but they’ve known each other for years. What else could they possibly have to talk about?”

I shrugged and joined him on the bed. “I don’t know. Us? I’ve noticed my mom talks about me and my sister a lot.”

“Grown ups are weird.”

“Yeah.”

He won.

Mike paused to stare up at the little fake plant hanging in the entrance to the hallway as we walked to my room. “You ever wonder why mistletoe is used as a holiday thing when it’s literally a parasite?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the old pagans saw it growing on trees and thought it was just a thing that they did. That was before science was a thing.”

“And why would you pick berries from it if they’re poisonous? What purpose do poisonous berries serve?” He sat down on the bed, leaning over to turn on the console. We’d been racing against each other for five years. He was currently in the lead.

“Nightshade berries are poisonous and people used to eat them all the time. Not too many of course, but enough to get you a little high and make your pupils dilate. Some cultures thought it was pretty.”

He handed me a controller, the symbols and rubber analog stick covers long worn off. “I still don’t get why mistletoe represents kissing.”

“Maybe it’s the symbiosis of the tree and the parasite.”

“Maybe.”

“Have you ever tried kissing anyone? Maybe that’s why you don’t understand.”

Mike’s face went red. Cute. “No.” I barely heard it over the console’s startup noise.

A silent moment as I plucked up courage. “Would you like to?”

He slipped his hand into the front pocket of his hoodie and I heard the clinking of keys. He’d just gotten his license and I’m sure he’d been excited to drive over here from their house.

I put my hand on his back and he jerked, his hand pulling out of his pocket and dropping the keys on the floor. Attached to them was the little rabbit, obviously having been fixed several times. For a moment I wondered if he had done it, or if his mom had.
But only for a moment. He seemed a bit angry, and his fist clenched into my old sweater, like he did to his mother all those years ago.

Neither of us knew what we were doing, but that didn’t matter. It was nicer than I was expecting, and more uncomfortable than I anticipated. It felt like it had when I’d given him the rabbit.

I don’t know how long we were there, ignoring the game. All I remember is my mom knocking gently on the door and asking us to set the table.

“Here. I got you something.” I handed him a little package from inside my bag.

He dropped his backpack onto the floor just inside the door and sat down next to me on the bed. “Oh, babe, you didn’t have to.”

“I know. I just thought I’d get you something special, just for the two of us.”

“Thank you.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek as he took it. Unwrapping it, he smiled. “Aww, a friend.” He held it up and pulled his keys out of his pocket, comparing the new rabbit with the old. It’d taken me a while to find the same one online.

We sat there a minute, looking at the old toy. How threadbare he was. How many times his sweater had been patched. I’d gotten his mom to make me a matching sweater for the new one.

“Well, I guess you have a partner now, don’t you?” he said, taking the rabbit off the keychain.

I reached behind me and pulled out a second package. “I was wondering if you would like one, too.” I held it up, open, to show off the simple ring I’d bought.

He just stared for a minute, his eyes flashing between the rabbits and the ring, his mind turning.

His face went a little angry. Like it did ten years ago. Like it always did whenever he had trouble processing his emotions.

He kissed me. Harder than I’d ever felt from him. “I love you,” he whispered against my lips.

“I love you, too, my Little Bunny.”

He held up his hand, I slipped the ring on, and the same feeling I had when I gave him the rabbit washed over me again.