Valentine's Day
It was the night before Valentine's Day and all was still in the rabbit household. Cream and Cheese had been instructed to sleep in the spare room, no particular reason, by Vanilla, Cream's mother. The young rabbit listened intently with both long ears flopped and pressed against the carpeted floorboards. She was shivering slightly in her thin cotton nightdress and her cheek was burning slightly with the friction from the carpet. She tried in vain to get comfortable whilst awaiting Vanilla's return.
It was many hours before the front door creaked open slowly and muffled voices disturbed the silence. One voice was strained and high pitched with the other kept low and calm.
She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and immediately dashed back into bed. Seconds later Vanilla gently shook her daughter's shoulder. Pretending to be roused from sleep, the child blinked her eyes and saw how in the weak light her mother's face was pale and drained.
"You need to go back to your own bed, sweetheart."
Cream nodded and walked across the landing, listening out for more clues below. The voices had ceased. Her own bed was now cold and uninviting, but she curled up into a ball waiting for her body-heat to warm up the sheets. The adult rabbit left without a word and went back down the stairs.
Again Cream strained her ears. She thought she heard words from Grandma Peach, but shook her head violently. There was nothing wrong; it was all in her head, and she was imagining things. There was a perfectly good reason for Grandma Peach to be staying over at this time of night.
"Better try to sleep, Cheese." She told the chao who snuggled closely beside her, he seemed subdued.
Sonic looked at his doormat with dread. It was that time of year again. He would hear the postman's friendly whistle and the next he would be invaded. Pink and red envelopes would flood the mat, the doorbell would ring and it would start the whole sorry and embarrassing process. Countless chocolate cupcakes with 'I Love U' piped on with red icing, cookies and love heart candies. If he was really unlucky he may even have a 'sing-a-gram' to look forward to and slam the door in their faces like he had in previous years.
The fan girls that plagued him (as they come with hero territory, it seemed) would be heartbroken if they knew their efforts were wasted. There was no way that the blue hedgehog could live on a diet of sugar and hearts long enough to eat the sweet treats. The resulting diarrhoea and stomach cramps would be enough to finish him off, hence he always gave them to the homeless. He recycled the cards and gave the soft toys to the local children's home, all in all trying to make the best out of the situation.
Sonic would be quite happy to let Valentines Day float by without being acknowledged. He suspected that half the male population of Mobius would agree with him. Girlfriends, wives and fiancées seemed to lose their minds on February 14th. If they did not receive the package of roses, romantic meal and chocolates, it was immediately cold-shoulder syndrome – for at least a week.
Our hero of course, as we know, could never get away completely scot-free when it came to Valentines Day, at least not if a certain pink female hedgehog had anything to say about it. The Greenhill Zone theme tune beeped on Sonic's mobile, and he shuddered.
"And where's my card?" The outraged voice hissed on the other end.
"I haven't gotten you one." Sonic replied honestly, "I don't believe in any of that crap. It's too commercial."
At the top of the hill the clouds rolled slowly across the sky. It was a mild day. A circle of figures, dressed in black, stood soundlessly silhouetted against bright green hills, bluebells and daffodils. The rose wood box was a foreign body embedded in the grass. Its shiny, varnished surface reflected glistening brown eyes.
"Give her the gift of love for Valentines Day! Forty non-stop classics from her favourite artists that will help to set the mood for love."
The child had hands fixed firmly over her ears while they were singing that song. What on Mobius did they think they were doing? It was one of her favourites. She loved that song and now every time she would hear it, images of coffins and sad faces would haunt her.
She pulled at the black dress she wore as it itched, and her new shiny black shoes pinched torturously. She didn't understand the kindly smiles that the other grownups gave her. In many ways, those smiles unnerved the child more so than the event itself. Everyone was acting strange - there was no talking or laughing. It was as though to do so would be a crime. To act inappropriately on this particular day would be insensitive and stupid.
Grandma Peach stood rooted to the spot, staring past the box, past the hill, even into thin air. She wasn't wearing her usual maroon tweed skirt, white cotton blouse, pearls and turquoise silk scarf. The antique rabbit wasn't herself, but perhaps that was to be expected. The walking stick which was usually hidden away for 'real old age' was cemented to her wrinkled hands. The hands trembled slightly as her nails dug into the wood, the same wood as the box on the hill. Her gummy grin was frozen in a frown and despite the comforting words whispered into her ears she ignored them.
Today she was a colossus unable to break and to collapse from the pain. She would get through the day without a single tear and show no weakness for the man whom she loved most dearly. Her family, despite their intentions, could do nothing but get in the way, say the wrong things and step on every eggshell. It was false courtesy combined with respect that lacked the genuine touch. Everyone was an actor playing their part on this particular day, because they could think of no other way to be. It was awkward and twisted. Being here was uncomfortable for them and she watched as they squirmed fraternising with the thoughts of their own deaths.
"You can't run away from me forever, Sonic Hedgehog."
Each rabbit took turns to say a few words about the deceased. What a 'one of a kind' guy he was. A devoted husband, son, brother and grandparent who looked after his own and could never be replaced.
"They're saying lots of nice things, aren't they Grandma?"
"Bah! Empty words shared a hundred times over. I bet some other poor sod is saying exactly the same thing somewhere else right now." She made no attempt to disguise her bitterness and spoke the words loudly. A few heads turned, some flushed scarlet whilst others shook their heads with disapproval.
"She's just upset." Vanilla apologised anxiously. Grandma Peach smirked back.
Cream took a handful of dirt and looked down into the deep hole of recently dug fresh earth. The coffin was let down gently with white ropes flexing and straining under the weight. The rabbits began to throw the dirt on top of the coffin as it was slowly let down. When complete, the brown hill of soil reminded Cream of a gigantic mud pie. He was stuck under there now, whether he liked it or not.
"Isn't this place romantic, Sonic?"
"Why, exactly, should I have to pay double?"
"It is Valentines Day, Sir."
"Amy, why don't we come back tomorrow?"
"Because it's not Valentines Day tomorrow! Oh, Sonic, you're such a tease."
"Would you like the table, Sir?"
"I guess I don't have a choice…"
Cream stood close to Grandma Peach, whom seemed to be the only rabbit that wasn't afraid to remember. They remembered Grandpa Wiggy together in silence. There had always been the thick and heavy tobacco smoke that surrounded him and his strange taste for salad cream sandwiches. He liked to tell stories, complain about Robotnik and the politicians in equal measure. He took first dibs on the Sunday paper just to read the comic strips and fill in the crossword.
"Lucky git." The elderly rabbit sneered, "left me with a bunch of deadbeats and I'm the one with the weak heart."
"Grandma, who are you talking to?" Cream asked with concern.
"Grandpa. He's watching the whole lot of us down here and having a bloody good laugh, bastard."
"He wouldn't like you saying that."
The ice cracked and soft pink flesh broke through dry and flaky lips. "He would love me all the more for saying that because that was him, the way he was."
"How much?! For a bunch of red roses?"
The service was coming to a close - the one minor indulgence that Grandma Peach had prepared was a single red rose. It wasn't wrapped with love hearts, nor had the thorns been removed. Its shabby dark green leaves remained attached to the stem and the petals were entwined within the bud. The red stuck out amongst the brown earth as she laid it down.
"Sonic, do you love me?"
"Erm…"
Grandma Peach was satisfied that it was over. She would bide her time and help raise the family. She knew that males often died before their mates and that this would perhaps take a few more years. As time would draw on and the zest for her life would wane, Grandma Peach would look forward to the day when she may never wake up. The day when she too could laugh at the mourners below and share the joke with Wiggy.
The elderly rabbit smiles as she's waiting, still waiting even now.