THIS BUNNY THING CALLED LOVE

 I righted my drooping bunny ears, pushed my pink nose back into position, and began singing: “Happy Birthday to you….” After Molly blew out her candles, I sliced the cake for the nine sugar-desperate four-year-olds. Leaving Molly’s father to act as chaperone, I headed to the kitchen to help with the goodie bags.

Molly’s mom, Karen, had asked me to fill in at the party for Marv the Magician, who was at home with chickenpox. I didn’t already have a job scheduled, so here I was. I was finding the work more relaxing than usual since I’d known Karen—and now her family—for years.

“So, how’s your love life?” Karen asked, briskly stuffing several Winnie the Pooh bags with candy and toys.

I grabbed an empty bag and followed her lead. “Non-existent.”

“Any prospects?”

“Not really.”

“Laura, are you trying? It’s been months since Dave broke off the engagement. It’s time to get out there again. I have friends I could introduce you to.”

I twirled a top on the counter. I knew Karen was right. But breaking up with my fiancé had thrown me for a loop. Not only had my romantic hopes been dashed, but my career plans had been altered as well. I’d been counting on working with Dave in his growing wine business. Now I had no clue what to do with my life—hence the bunny get-up. The rabbit costume was only one of many at my disposal in my work for an entertainment company.

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

“We’d better get out there. The kids’ sugar levels must be running low.” Karen picked up the bags and exited the screen door.

After a moment of reflecting further on my love life—or lack thereof—I, too, left for the backyard. But I took the outside steps too fast, and tripped over my large rabbit feet.

From my position of lying prostrate on the lawn, I became aware of a figure leaning over me. I looked up into the face of a very handsome man. He had curly brown hair and gentle-looking brown eyes.

He offered me his left hand and pulled me up. I noted he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

“Thank you,” I said, feeling my face burn.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, looking me over and chuckling softly.

I tried as unobtrusively as possible to wipe some grass stains from my furry front. “I came down the steps too fast.”

“Your rabbit’s feet weren’t so lucky.”

I smiled wryly.

“Late for an important date?”

His bad jokes were infectious. “Yes, a tea party,” I answered. “The March Hare and Dormouse are waiting.”

“Well, say hi to Alice for me. See you.” He turned, located a blond boy in the mob of kids, and disappeared out onto the sidewalk.

I looked after him, feeling my heart stir. I shook my head. What was I thinking? I knew nothing about this man. Just because he wasn’t wearing a ring didn’t mean he wasn’t married—and he did appear to have a son. Still, it was the first time since Dave that I’d felt interested in a man. Maybe this was progress.

I was distracted the following week, thinking about the man from Karen’s party. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask her about him. Even though we’d shared a few silly jokes, I’d fallen down in front of him! Not to mention that I’d been wearing an unflattering hairy costume at the time. It was best to just stop obsessing over him.

That Friday I was called to deliver a last-minute singing telegram at an engagement party. I had trouble finding the location, an office building downtown. As a consequence, I was late and feeling anxious, my bunny makeup threatening to meld itself to my face. I was surprised I’d been asked to wear the rabbit outfit. More exotic costumes were usually requested for telegrams. Worse, I’d had to bring along my oversized plastic carrot, and I was having trouble juggling it with my purse.

Ignoring the familiar teasing from passersby, I threw open the main doors and jogged to the elevators. When a car finally arrived, I hurried in, but my carrot didn’t make it. The prop got stuck, and the doors kept opening and closing around the tip.

“If it isn’t my furry friend,” said a voice I’d been thinking about all week. Through the intermittent opening in the doors, I saw the man from Karen’s party grinning at me.

I watched in amazement as he forced open the doors, grabbed the carrot, and joined me in the elevator.

He handed me the prop, and I thanked him with as much dignity as I could muster. I shook my head. Why was I always a rabbit when I saw this man? Why couldn’t I be a belly dancer for once? And why did I always need to be rescued by him? I had to get a real job—and a life.

We rode in silence to the eighth floor. I was surprised when my fellow passenger followed me to the Prescott and Verne offices. It would be just my luck if he turned out to be the groom.

An attractive blonde led us to the conference room, where the party was in full swing.

The bride-to-be reigned at the head of the table, wearing a veil fashioned from ribbons and squares of toilet paper. My companion approached her and kissed her warmly on the cheek. My heart sank. He was the groom.

Somehow I got through my song, which contained a dreadful play on the words carat and carrot. When I was done, I hastily made my way to the exit.

“Hey, bunny girl,” a man said behind me, and I turned to see the groom. “I was wondering…would you like to come to my sister’s wedding with me?”

“Sister?”

“Yeah. I missed the family party, so I’m here tonight. The wedding’s on the seventeenth. What do you say?”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Peter…as in Rabbit.”

I giggled.

“And you’re Laura. Karen’s told me all about you. Molly and my cousin have a standing play date every Thursday. By the way, I’m the one who hired you. I couldn’t resist seeing that cute pink nose again.”

It took me just a couple of seconds to accept. After all, even rabbits need to get out once in a while.

 

 

 (Originally published by The Prairie Times)