Chapter Four

Chapter Four


Mid-afternoon, the sun startled Patricia from her novelling reverie in front of the computer. She had written quite a bit and she was feeling very productive. She had heard from the others at the NaNoWriMo kick-off party that it was easy to run into a writer's block early on, but she hadn't. As soon as she woke up, she had started writing notes on a little notepad May had given her for writing her grocery lists on (“Chicken it twice”, it said at the top, with a picture of a chicken with a checklist), and she had let her morning toast get cold before she even buttered it. She had had way more ideas than she had been able to use – she looked through the notes once again and thought she had incorporated two of them – but hopefully she could use the rest over the course of the month. No, not hopefully. She had to!


And she wondered at her vehemence. What made these ideas better than any others, besides that she had come up with them herself, on this, the first morning of a month of noveling? Nothing, and yet she felt distinctly attached to them. She would use them. Patricia left the list next to the computer – although she had taken a break not long before to have some lunch, she had spent far too much time sitting still, and it was time she got up and moved around.


Oh, how moving felt – she could feel the molasses of her limbs, the stubborn half-asleep stiffness in her legs and feet, the aches that would soon throb. For the next writing session, she would have to set a timer and get up to do exercises.


Well, time to feed the rabbit, sit in the sun for a bit with the newspaper, and then make herself dinner. Mondays were always her down days. The rest of the week she would have to deal with her usual volunteer commitments at the seniors' centre down the street, and she supposed she should make it to at least one of the write-ins that Jamie and Zale had invited her to. There was one Tuesday night, and one Friday. But for today, she could take it easy. And she was well passed the word count they had said she would need to get in a day. She had had to work to figure out how to find the word count, but she had discovered it after not too much work right after her lunch break. She had already had 1,667 words at that point, and she had written at least a few hundred more since, although she had forgotten to check how many she was at before she saved and closed her document.


The rabbit was still sitting in its corner, snuggled into the sawdust at the side of the cage by the blanket, avoiding the side where the sun reached in with its bright warmth. Patricia wondered absently if the rabbit was allergic to light, as she had only seen it at peace when it was well sheltered from both natural and artificial light – but then again, perhaps it just enjoyed the darkness.


Bzzzzz, the sound of Patricia's buzzer broke into the apartment's silence just as Patricia was letting the small brown pellets of food fall into the rabbit's dish. She re-fastened the top of the cage and dropped the scoop back into the bag of food, then moved to the door and pressed the button that activated the speaker by the front door of the building.


“Hello?” Particia asked, then released the button and pressed the button to activate her own speaker as well as the microphone by the outer door.


“Grandma? Grandma, can I come in?”


“May?” Oh, she had forgotten to switch the buttons she had pressed. Patricia pressed the button to buzz open the front door. May knew the way up, and it would be way easier to let her in than to figure it out over the speaker, no matter how she didn't want to wait the few seconds for May to make her way up the stairs and to her door before asking her all the questions suddenly brimming in her mind – what was she doing here? What about school today? Did her mother know where she was? - and what was wrong? She had sounded – wrong. No confidence, and perhaps with an edge of tears. Patricia sighed softly, worried, and unlocked and opened her door.


“Grandma!” There she was, turning the corner from the stairs, her beautiful granddaughter, rushing towards her, long red and white striped scarf trailing behind her and looking like it ought to trip her. Patricia held out her arms and May stepped gratefully into them, shaking.


“Come in, love, come in,” Patricia said, patting May's soft wool coat-covered back, and stepping backwards into her apartment, May following, so that the door could close behind them. Patricia turned the deadbolt closed behind them and then simply stood holding her granddaughter, still shaking, her breathing much shallower now that they were in Patricia's apartment. Yes, something was definitely wrong. Patricia slipped her hand into her sweater pocket and pulled a tissue from the packet she always kept there, passing it to her now openly – but still softly – crying granddaughter. She stroked the girl's hair slowly, murmuring a few soft “sh” noises. May would tell her what was going on – or she wouldn't, as it suited her – when she was ready, but for now the best thing Patricia could do for her was to stand and let May cry herself out on her shoulder.


Finally May breathed in deeply and let out a long slow exhale, and her tight hold on Patricia eased. She stepped back and smiled despite her reddened eyes and wet, puffy cheeks.


“Thanks, grandma,” May said. She leaned forward, hiding her face just for a moment as she pulled her low brown leather boots off. She tossed her red wool coat onto a coat hook beside the door, revealing a tangle of gaudy bangles and necklaces that were as completely unlike May as the loose velvet corset underneath them. The loose, long maroon skirt was much more her style, but put together the entire ensemble was clearly a costume.


"You look lovely, May," Patricia said, not commenting on the full day it had been since Hallowe'en.  Clearly May had not gone home after the horror movies Laura had mentioned. She led the way into the living room and settled back onto the couch. May perched beside her.


“So do you want to talk about what's going on, love?”


“No,” May admitted. “But I will. That's why I came, after all. But can we play while we talk?"


"Of course," Patricia smiled, pulling her air hockey out from under the couch, snapping its legs out and plugging it in. She handed May the puck and one of the red pushers.


May set the puck in the centre, waited for her grandmother to position her pusher and nod that she was ready, and tapped it with her pusher. The puck sailed smoothly over the air flow, and Patricia deftly intercepted it, sending it back to May. Like Laura, May had played since she was old enough to reach the top of the table, and was exceptionally good. But so was Patricia, who had taught them both, and the puck slipped past May's guard after she misjudged the angle of a fast shot by Patricia.


The play continued for several minutes, with long intervals between points distributed nearly evenly between them.


"Everything's going wrong, grandma," May said suddenly. "I had been normal, just me, and then about a week ago, something changed. A nice boy, Alex, moved into our neighbourhood and started going to my school, and I thought maybe he might be interested in me. We'd paired up for the Trick-or-Eat yesterday, and we had had so much to talk about, and he even agreed to go to mom's storytelling workshop with me before we went to Billy's for the horror movies. But then it all went wrong, like I was in an awful teenage drama, and suddenly Chrissie, one of the super normal girls who only went to the workshop because she'd heard a couple of the guys from some cheesy boy band were going to be there, was hanging all over him. And he let her, and at the end Alex told me he was going to her Hallowe'en party instead of coming back to Billy's."


"Oh, May," Patricia said, and made as if to go give her a hug - leaving her goal wide open for May's shot.


"Keep playing, grandma," May said. "That's not what's wrong."


So Patricia picked up her pusher again and tapped the puck back into May's zone, straining to keep up her guard against May's determined attacks.


"So then mom was all prosaic about the whole thing and told me just to go to Billy's by myself, and I did, and Billy's parents let me sleep in the guest room, and then instead of going to school I took the ferry and came here. Which is another part of what doesn't make any sense. You know how I am about school, grandma," May said, sending the puck hurtling hard into her grandmother's goal.


"I know it sounds like a typical girl-meets-boy, girl-loses-boy story. But something isn't right." May looked up as the puck slid past Patricia again, and her dark brown eyes stared seriously into her grandmother's nearly identical pair. Neither of them noticed the slight scuffing noises coming from behind Patricia. "You know me. I've never lost it over a boy. I barely know Alex. And I know that I don't even really think of him as potential boyfriend material, I don't think he's cute, nothing. But I feel like something is forcing me to obsess over him. And skipping school? It isn't me, grandma. It isn't natural. None of this is. Mom thinks I'm just lying to cover up for being upset about Chrissie taking a boy I liked, but it isn't like that."


"It isn't natural? What do you mean, May?" Patricia picked up the puck, but simply held it in her fingers, turning the plastic disc in circles one handed, watching her granddaughter.


"It's like I said, like I'm in a teenage drama. Like someone is trying to force me into... into a narrative. Like I'm being thrown into a story, whether I want to be in it or to play the part or not." May dropped her pusher onto the air table and flopped onto the couch. "I won't do it, grandma. I won't."


"I'd say no one was forcing you to, but..." Patricia offered a half-smile and unplugged the table. No use wasting power. She turned back to her grandmother, saying: "Is there anything else -"


But May's attention had been captured by something else. She was no longer sprawled on her back across half the couch, but was sitting up, intently looking past Patricia. "When did you get that?" she asked.


"Hm?" Patricia turned to look behind her. "Oh, uh - the rabbit is a strange story, actually."


"Alex has a stuffed bunny just like him," May said. "The same brown fur, the same white spot on his forehead and in his ears, the same stare like he's listening to every word you're saying..." The rabbit's nose twitched and it turned its back on the two women.


"He didn't have a white spot when he showed up," Patricia said with some surprise. She supposed nothing should surprise her about a rabbit that showed up on her balcony. "I hadn't done much talking with him here until you showed up, though. I was a bit self-absorbed today."


"Didn't have a white spot?" May blinked, still staring at the rabbit and its cage. "I wouldn't think his fur could change to winter colouring quite like that, and besides, there would be tufts of the old fur... Grandma, what do you mean he 'showed up'?"


"Just that, May. I was actually busy in the closet when he somehow showed up on my balcony."


"On your balcony?" May rubbed her eyes with her hand. "You aren't fooling with me, grandma, are you?"


"I know it sounds crazy, but it's what happened."


"Alex said the same thing about the stuffed rabbit, but he lives on the fourth and top floor of his building, and his balcony is roofed and has walls to the side for privacy from the neighbours. There is no way that rabbit could have ended up there. I assumed he was making it up, even though he seemed..." May paused. "I know you wouldn't make it up, grandma, but I wish I knew what it meant."


Patricia sat in her rocking chair and watched the rabbit in its cage beside her. "What do you mean, Mr. Rabbit?" she wondered aloud.


"Grandma..." May sounded hesitant now, much more than when she had been explaining how she felt when she had felt certain that without absolute conviction she would be disbelieved. "I know that something strange is going on with how I feel about the whole Alex and Chrissie situation, but I know that whatever is forcing me to feel the way I do is real and external. You believe that, right?"


"May, if you tell me that it is so, then it is so. No matter what."


"There's something else. Rabbits..." May shook her head. "Yesterday it looked like Alex and Chrissie both had some sort of rabbit spirit imbued in them."


"Like they had rabbit ears growing out of their head?" Patricia asked.


"Yes! How did you know?"


"I saw them too," Patricia said thoughtfully. "Not Alex and Chrissie, obviously, but some people I met at the National Novel Writing Month gathering I went to, which is just another sort of storytelling group, if you think about it... and this rabbit showed up yesterday, after I decided I would do NaNoWriMo."


"National what?" May asked, startled. "You're doing what?"


"Writing a novel, love," Patricia smiled. "In a month. Apparently there is a whole group of folks who do it, and they call it National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo. I just heard of it yesterday, and went to the party, and then today I spent the day writing."


"A novel? Cool! What -" May paused, torn between asking about the rabbits and asking about the novel. "What's your novel about, grandma?"


"Oh, a mystery novel. There's a murder, and the police won't help, so the dead man's wife has to figure it out herself. She wears the hat next to my computer, see?" Patricia pointed out the delicate black hat.


"A mystery novel... Grandma, that's the same as the story I was telling at the workshop last night. At least in general. I've never told a story like it before, but last night it just popped into my head, clean as could be."


Both women turned as the rabbit in the cage started suddenly.


"Something is going on," Patricia said. "And this rabbit is involved."


Before May could respond, brrrrrt, the phone interrupted.


"May, does your mother know where you are?" Patricia asked, reaching to pick up the phone. It was either Laura or a telemarketer; no one but May and telemarketers called her these days. Her granddaughter shook her head, suddenly looking a bit embarrassed, as Patricia answered.


"Hello, Laura?"


"Mom! You knew it was me - does that mean May is there?"


"Yes, love," Patricia answered. "And May is very sorry she didn't tell you she was coming out here, but it was all a bit sudden."


"Is she there because of Alex?" Patricia could tell Laura was relieved, but still worried. May was impulsive sometimes, but also exceedingly practical. She was normally careful to plan any travel in advance to ensure it didn't interfere with school, and always kept Laura in the loop. This was not like her at all.


"It's all a bit complicated, Laura," Patricia said. "I think she'll need one more day here, but unless something changes, I'll have May on the ferry back on Wednesday." She looked at her granddaughter with an attempt at a stern face.


"Don't worry too much, love. I'll keep an eye on her." Patricia added. May held out her hand and tilted her head questioningly. "Here's May."


"Hi mom," May said after Patricia passed her the phone. "I'm sorry." Pause. "I told you everything last night mom, and I just needed to get out of there so I could clear my head and not get pushed into reacting in a way I didn't want to. Like I said." Pause. "Yes mom. I'll call Alesha and ask her to email me our homework assignments so I can get it done here or Wednesday when I get home." Pause. "Thanks mom, I owe you one. I love you too. Bye."


"So we have tonight and one full day to figure out the rabbits," Patricia said with a smile. "That means we have enough time for a pot of tea now, which I will make while you phone Alesha. Then after we've discussed everything we can think of over the tea, you can change into some of the clean clothes you have stashed in my closet, and we'll go for dinner."






Patricia and May had enjoyed a delicious pot of ginger fresh tea, fortified with extra lemon juice, to stave off the colds and flus that always seemed to accompany November, and discussed both of their experiences with rabbit impressions. May had showered and, much refreshed, changed into some comfortable jeans and a brightly embroidered peasant top, and they had spent dinner talking about possible directions Patricia's story could take. By the end of the meal, May was half-convinced that she should write her own novel, despite the busy demands of school (especially with taking these three days off unexpectedly, May thought to herself).


But despite talking for hours, they hadn't really figured anything out. Both were convinced that somehow the rabbits were connected to the storytelling groups they had been involved with the day before, but how, they had no idea. They returned to Patricia's cozily lit apartment, well sated by the Thai curries and rice they had shared, and fed the rabbit. Patricia sat at the table and made notes of all the ideas she and May had tossed back and forth, adding them to the somewhat bizarre ideas of that morning. Her determination to use all of those original thoughts had somehow faded, but she barely paused in her note-taking to wonder at herself.


May used the computer to get started on a book review for her English class - she had tucked the novel, The Jade Peony, into the pocket of her coat to read on the ferry ride.


Before long, both being tired from the long day, Patricia tucked herself into bed and May curled up on the couch.


While they slept, Alfalfa sat up on its haunches in the cage, and tried to figure out what had gone wrong. And how to fix it.