Prologue Chapter 3: A Story to Tell
"I'll be back in a jiff- Aack!"
A crash boomed as Roger tumbled through the open door of his trailer.
Jessica let out a chuckle as she also stepped inside. "Roger, you don't have to be funny all the time."
Ever since her talk with Cheri and Roger, she learned that the reason "Because it's funny!" is reason enough.
Roger rolled onto his stomach and propped his elbows on the floor. He leisurely kicked his legs as though he was in a meadow full of dandelions instead of a movie set trailer. "Who said I was being funny?" he asked looking up to her with wide, innocent eyes.
Jessica raised her brow in amusement. But she still couldn't tell when Roger was being an actual klutz.
The rabbit laughed, straightening up. "Alright, alright. I'll just get some things then we can go."
Since Jessica would always drive to the town after filming, Roger asked if he can come along to do some errands.
As he walked past the small section that served as a living room, his hand casually put a picture frame face down.
He caught her eye, opened his mouth as though to say something before shaking his head. Roger ambled into the kitchen, the refrigerator hiding him.
Jessica looked around. For an A-list toon star, the inside of the trailer was simply furnished. In fact, nothing indicated Roger used toon appliances. A human could live comfortably in his trailer.
Again, she wondered about Roger's past. She tried asking Herman about it once. The conversation went like this:
"Herman, where did Roger come from?"
"Why don't you ask him?"
"He doesn't seem to want to talk about it."
"Exactly."
Her eyes wandered to the faced-down picture frame. What would Roger be hiding? A silly picture with sentimental value to him, perhaps? She already liked him as a person; he didn't need to hide small memorabilia from her if he thinks they're worth something.
Was it a picture of Cheri? The thought made her heart drop but it must be the thrill of anticipation and burning curiosity.
She'll just take a quick look and that's it. Checking if he's still in the kitchen, she grabbed the picture and flipped it up.
Her eyes widened.
A baby toon rabbit welcomed her sight. The camera had caught the baby bunny in a middle of a gleeful gurgle. Jessica guessed this was Roger, judging by the tuft of red hair and blue eyes. His ears reached the length of his body and one of them flopped on one side of his head.
But what caught Jessica in surprise were the human couple in the photo. The man's long arm embraced the woman, looking at both "mother and child" with a gaze as soft as cotton. Underneath his gaze, the woman bearhugged the baby on her lap. One of Roger's ears entwined intimately with her hand.
The picture would have been a normal photo of a happy family if the "parents" were toons or if the "child" was huma-
"Jessica?"
Jessica looked up and almost dropped the picture at the sight of Roger. Her heart stopped. Time stopped. Silence stretched between them as she realized she was caught red-handed.
Roger looked stunned as he just stared at her. Then he blinked. His face turned crimson and he averted his eyes as though he wanted to be anywhere but there.
Jessica slowly put down the picture frame. He's embarrassed but…
Her heart sank when he took a large inhale and put a hand over his eyes.
Roger rarely, rarely got mad. He hated feeling mad. Now, he doesn't want to be but Jessica could tell that he was.
She couldn't blame him. She saw his discomfort at putting down the picture and she still snooped.
Feeling like the scum of the earth, Jessica decided she had caused enough trouble.
"I'm going now," she murmured, turning at her heel and walking out of his door.
XOXOXOXOXOXOX
Roger had once been in the receiving end of Jessica's anger. It wasn't pretty. After running into a pack of wolves on the way back to the set, Jessica's cool expression disguised the shitty day she was having. Whacking them with a frying pan had helped. But it just reminded her of what she has to deal with for the rest of her toon life. Someone had tugged her hand and without thinking, Jessica swung the frying pan. Hard.
Roger had laughed it off after waking up. But the pan and the wall weren't the same since, both now bearing the indentions of a rabbit.
Roger, who had seen the worst of her. The one who had witnessed her cold fury that iced the room from floor to ceiling. The one who had heard her frank sarcasm that silenced people into shame. Roger who had felt the cold air about her that kept most people away.
Roger who made her laugh; and, suddenly, she could see what he saw: she was bigger than all of her problems. That they're not so bad. That she can handle them. She knew all of those things a long time ago. But through Roger's eyes was a difference: there was a brightness that she never saw. There was hope.
Now Roger's the one mad at her.
And she couldn't handle it the way he did for her.
Jessica stifled a yawn and walked to the studio. She couldn't believe she couldn't sleep because Roger might still be mad at her. Wait, she could. Roger…
Her hand paused at reaching the doorknob as the realization hit her.
…mattered.
The door suddenly opened and Roger froze in midstep, looking at her.
Both humanoid toon and anthropomorphic rabbit gawked at each other.
Jessica tore her eyes away, shamefaced while Roger suddenly found the marble floor fascinating, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.
They stood for what seemed like a whole minute, their gazes meeting and repelling when they realized the other was looking.
"Roger, I'm sorry," Jessica finally said.
Roger shook his head fervently. "Don't be silly, Jessica. I was the one being stupid," he studied his floppy feet. "I should have told you not to look at that picture."
To the outsiders, they must have looked strange. A glamorous toon woman who could advertise a Mustang on the spot, having a heartfelt talk with a furry floppy-eared clown.
"But I knew you didn't want me to look," Jessica said. Not for the first time, she wished her dress could allow her to crouch down. But that would only result in Roger backing away out of respect.
Roger finally looked at her. "Do you have the time?"
Curious, Jessica nodded. Roger led her in the direction of where his trailer was parked.
"Herman said it's time I told you about where I came from. He said you've been asking."
Jessica flinched internally at those words. That old brat!
Roger looked at her, sensing her reaction. "It's okay; I knew you'd be curious, after all." He laughed out loud in reminiscence. "Herman was worse. When I wouldn't tell him, I ended up with a baby ninja snooping around my trailer. At two in the morning."
He suddenly became very interested in the asphalt. "It's just that, it's too complicated to be talked over in a minute. It causes a lot of questions to be asked."
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Jessica replied, her heart lighter but still weighed down by lingering guilt.
"I want to. We've known each other for a while now," Roger smiled at her and Jessica felt it. The undertone on anything Roger-related: a familiar strong bond that tugged on her securely, a warm presence that lingered even after they parted ways.
They reached the trailer and Roger opened the door. He had her settle down on the sofa before handing her the picture frame again.
Jessica smiled at it as Roger went off to the kitchen. Roger looked awfully damn cute as a baby rabbit.
When she looked up, Roger had returned with a can of coke and carrot juice and a photo album.
He hopped up beside her and they both looked at the picture in the frame: a happy family of a human couple and an anthropomorph baby bunny.
"Roger? Who are they?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"Jessica, meet my Ma and Pa."
XOXOXOXOX
It was a dark, stormy night.
John C. Rabbit closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of wet earth seeping into the living room. He settled comfortably in the sofa, looking over his wife. Diane looked like a pile of sheets wrapped loosely in a bundle. The only reason that she couldn't be mistaken for laundry was the ginger hair glinting against the light.
He smiled sadly at her. He knew she wasn't sleeping. The cards in his hands made a comforting whirring as he cut and flipped them. His mind was too distracted for books tonight. He busied his hands to relieve his restless mind. His thumb ran over their edges; letting the cards slip and smack against each other in a whirring sound.
She's getting better now. The doctor's words had been like a blow to her. I'm sorry… Your eggs… other couples… Infertile… For the past few days, she had been hiding behind a smile –the kind of smile you forced when you banged your thumb with a hammer.
People have many metaphors for life. Life is a wheel, they say –sometimes you're up, sometimes you're down. But it's like saying you have no control over the situation, like it's some kind of weather. They say when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. But what if life gives you nothing, like what it's doing to his wife right now? He'd try to comfort her when he'd caught her glancing forlornly at herself. But she'd just say she was worried about her waistline. Right.
John looked around at the sound of a creak outside. He rolled his eyes. It's probably Macowsky leaving a basket of carrots as a joke. Again. Yeah, not a lot of people have Rabbit as their surnames but he wished his neighbour would have better things to do.
But who would be out in the rain at this time of night?
He spread the cards in 8 lines for Solitaire and picked out the cards for the other rows of four. Looks like he got dealt with a bad hand.
The irony.
He flipped a card face up and blinks. A wide smile and a jester cap greeted him. Huh. He forgot to separate the joker.
"John, I hear something."
Diane sat ramrod straight on the other end of the sofa.
"It's probably Mike being a dolt again."
"Shhhh!"
This time, John fell silent. Rain splashed and tip-tapped, crickets chirped, and someone …crying?
John bolted up straight. His stomach dropped to his feet. It sounded like a baby crying. Narrowing his eyes, he strode to the door. Bloody Mike and his jokes. He's gone too far.
He looked first through the peephole. The porch was deserted. He took a deep breath and calmly stored the energy he's going to yell… or swing at the immaturity. With a look to his wife, he opened the door.
No one. Darkness as far as the porchlight can't reach.
"John, look!"
A basket lay on the dusty porch floor. Cautiously, they both peeped inside. The wailing was coming from inside. Diane tugged down the blankets and gasped.
Blue eyes peeped at them, so surprised, it stopped crying. Its ears restlessly waved off the blankets weighing them down.
"It's a…"
Overcoming the shock of their presence, its lips trembled and he began to bawl again.
"Oh shh! Hush!" Diane whispered, wounding her arms around the bundle.
John looked at it, his mouth hanging. He had never seen one up close, they looked so… flat in pictures.
"Oh dear, someone must have thought we're actual rabbits!" Diane said, and then she laughed. A sweet uplifting sound that had caught his ears before she had caught his eye. Her eyes moistened but her old spark was back as she rocked the baby.
John swallowed. Carefully, he touched its ear –velvety to the touch even if they're supposed to be of ink and paint. It also felt cold. He tucked it inside the blankets and felt warmer fur inside.
"The baby's a …"
He looked at its face again as it quieted down, lulled to sleep. He looked at his wife, glowing again as though she was given the most unexpectedly best gift in the world.
And John Cooper Rabbit decided he didn't give a damn.
"The baby's staying with us."
Author's Notes: What. Have. I. Done? I should never have read Wikipedia and Wikia's entries on WFRR. Ever since I've read the part of them to do a prequel, my mind have been trying to bridge that gap that their estimated gazillion dollar budget for the movie couldn't cross. My friends, this is just the prologue. Roger's story is coming.
