Chapter Fifty-One – Blossom


Ms. Wilde marched down the hospital hallway with quick steps, deftly juggling her sliding shoulder purse and a vase full of flowers. Scuttling nurses carrying charts and piles of folded blankets gave her a wide berth, as much from her purposeful gait as the grim set of her mouth.

The older fox noticed little, too busy mired in worry and guilt – as well as ruminations on her own frequent hospital stays – and almost strode right past the pair of rabbits in denim snapping at each other near the recovery floor's help desk.

"You're not even trying to be nice Stu," Bonnie scolded, working to keep her voice down. "It was an accident. You heard Judy, Nick saved her!"

"From something he got them into in the first place!" Her husband shot back, gesturing with the head of a plastic, gift shop vase to a closed door further down.

"You can't keep her in a bubble forever! These things happen!"

"Yeah, in Zootopia!"

Bonnie scowled, pointing her finger into his overalled chest. "Now you listen to me mister! These two seem to really like each other, and I will not lose contact with my first daughter over your ridiculous—!"

Ms. Wilde stopped before them, hitching up her purple assortment of hydrangeas. "Excuse me," she said serenely, boxing up her own anxiety and offering out a small nod. "Is Judy taking visitors this morning?"

Both bunnies immediately clammed up, stiffening and working to copy her calm.

Years ago, Olivia Wilde had found it amusing how prey reacted to her. How their weaker, smaller frames would quiver, and they would fight to pretend otherwise.

Now, it only saddened a deep part of her, a part that grew bigger with each passing season.

She willed herself not to sigh, knowing it would sink her shoulders and make her already falling purse plummet ungainly to her elbow.

"She is," Bonnie rallied first, smoothing the front of her checkered shirt. "Are those for her?" The rabbit looked at the large collection of top-heavy flowers cradled in the fox's arms and managed a smile, not bothering her husband with a glance. "They're lovely."

Ms. Wilde gave a fleeting smile back, willing herself to dismiss the compliment, knowing Judy's mother was only being polite, but feeling pleased by it all the same. If only her neighbors could occasionally manage such niceties. "Don't say that. These homely things are just from my garden."

Surprisingly, Stu chimed in, "That breed doesn't grow well out in Bunnyburrow. The florists back home would love to have blooms like those."

Ms. Wilde met his eye, trying to keep her tranquility. These two could offer such judgement on her son, and then dole out respects other prey she'd known 20 years never managed? "Well," she kept her tone soft and modest. "I cut them fresh just before I left, so they should make Judy's room smell wonderful."

Stu stared at the hydrangeas a moment longer, and color started to climb his face. Ms. Wilde marveled at how a few well-tended flowers, already starting to wilt in the neon-lit hall around them, could make him feel bad for his words.

"You know," she leaned in, sending a few petals drifting to the floor. "Nick's a lot like these flowers. He might not thrive in a climate of… conformity, but he flourishes here in Zootopia. You would be lucky to have him in Bunnyburrow."

The fox straightened and cast one last tight smile to the duo, calling over her shoulder as she walked away, "Your daughter certainly was the other night."