Rabbit Holes*
Powder woke up in the middle of the night when she heard tiny scratches and tiny thumps on the floor. She popped her head down and looked under the edge of her bed. She saw something she couldn't comprehend.
It was a rabbit. Not Vi's toy rabbit. A real one. Inside her house!
Its fur was light tan and soft, like butterscotch. Its little pink nose twitched as it rubbed its face with its paw and stared up at her with big black eyes. So many questions ran through Powder's mind, but they couldn't be answered in that moment.
Upon seeing Powder's face, the rabbit froze for an instant, twitched its long ears, and cocking its head to the side. It suddenly thumped its back feet twice, then leapt from under the bed. In a few bounds, it was outside her bedroom door.
"H-Hey, wait!" Powder called out to it in a whisper, trying not to scare it and not wanting to wake anyone up.
Yet.
Throwing back her covers, Powder leapt from her bed and looked for the rabbit in the hall. Peeking out, she was surprised to see the rabbit turn and hop down the staircase. Powder quickly gave chase, trying not to slip on the steps in her socks.
At the bottom of the stairs, Powder stopped and looked around, afraid for a moment she had lost it in the shadows.
Then in the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of the bottoms of the rabbit's feet as it darted into the drawing room, and she followed it a little nervously.
With her body, she stopped before entering and guarded the doorway; certain it would be trapped inside this room. Powder stopped and tried to come up with a plan.
She couldn't just up and grab the poor, trapped creature in her bare hands. She didn't want to risk getting bitten or upsetting it. And she obviously didn't know this rabbit or where it came from. What if it was wild? Or had rabies? Maybe she should just open the front door and try to escort it outside? But thinking back on it… its fur seemed too clean to be wild. And what if it was somebody's lost pet? Surely, they would want someone to safely catch their rabbit and return it home. Right?
Powder listened in the darkness for the rabbit's movements.
The room was dark. The only light came from the hall and Powder, who was standing in the doorway, casting a huge and distorted shadow onto the drawing room carpet. She looked like a tall, thin, giant woman, again. Powder was just wondering whether or not she ought to turn on the lights when she saw a shape edge slowly out from beneath the sofa.
It paused… and then dashed, silently across the carpet, towards the farthest corner of the room. There was no furniture in that corner of the room. Powder turned on a nearby tall lamp that had been added to the room. The light ignited in an instant.
But there was nothing in the corner.
Nothing… but the little door that opened onto the brick wall. Powder had been certain she had shut that door, but now it was ever so slightly open, just a crack.
Edging closer, Powder got on her knees and pried the door with her fingernails. She opened it, just enough to look inside with one eye. It was black and she couldn't see the rabbit. Then she opened it a bit wider, and Powder felt a breeze that brushed her face, playing with her hair.
What she expected to see as she pulled the door open was the brick wall. But instead, the bricks had gone as if they'd never been there. There was a cold, musty smell coming through the open doorway. It smelled like something very old and very slow. She saw a black void. Then lights began to glow, like lights from fireflies, glowing in and out of her vision; pinks, violets, and blues, along the walls of a long tunnel, stretching straight out before her.
She saw the fluffy tail of the butterscotch rabbit bouncing away, down the tunnel, further in the blue and pink lights. At the end of the straight tunnel, at a distance that seemed hard to guess from perspective, the rabbit looked back at Powder once, then went through another square door with a warm, yellow light coming from the other side.
There was something on the other side…
Powder looked back over her shoulder to the quiet, dim house. Everyone sleeping upstairs…
She bit her lip and reached out with her hand to touch the tunnel for herself. It was solid.
Too curious for her own good, Powder crawled through the little door.
…
As Powder crawled on her hands and knees, she wondered what the other empty flat would be like, if that was where the tunnel led.
After a short while, Powder pushed her hand on the second square door, then frowned as she emerged on the other side.
She was certain she had gone straight and there were no turns in the tunnel… but she came out of the tunnel in the same place she came in.
Blinking, Powder stood up and turned around, uneasily. There was something very familiar about it. The rug beneath the coffee table was the same rug they had in her flat. The wallpaper was the same wallpaper that they had. The picture hanging in above the mantel piece was the same picture hanging above their mantel piece at home.
She knew where she was. She was in her own home. She hadn't left.
She was in the drawing room.
But something changed. The things on the mantel piece had been rearranged. Mylo and Claggor's pictures were gone. The flag was gone. But the turntable and the records were still there, along with the snow globes and Vi's old bunny toy.
With a blink, Powder rubbed her eyes, thinking that the floppy, inanimate bunny was staring at her. Not with maliciousness, but with concern.
Powder shook her head, confused. She stared at the painting hanging on the wall, but noted it wasn't exactly the same. The painting they had in their own drawing room showed a boy in a sailor uniform, crying over some ice cream he'd dropped on the ground. But now the expression on his face was different. He was looking at the ice cream in his hand, licking it with relish. As though it was a painting of the moment before he dropped his treat. And there was something peculiar about his eyes.
Powder stared at his eyes, trying to figure out what exactly was different. She almost had it when she smelled something wafting through the air.
Mmm… something smells good, she thought.
She followed the smell out of the drawing room and into the hallway. There was a light on in the kitchen, a shadow moving across the floor. Powder walked into the empty dining room.
"Vi?" she asked, aloud, "What are you doing up in the middle of the night?"
When Powder came around the corner she froze.
The kitchen was different. A drying herb rack hung over the window above the sink. The lacy, white curtains were freshly pressed. The walls were bright yellow. The countertops glowed with a pale blue that matched the tile on the floor. The cupboards were clean and undented.
The round table in the middle, the very table her family had eaten dinner, wasn't made of plastic anymore, but solid wood. The chairs also matched, made from carved wood. A stained-glass lamp hung above the table, shining down on a vase of yellow daffodils in the center.
The oven against the wall was twice as big and looked brand new and spotless. Next to it was a cutting board table, and a rack for pots and pans hung above. Outside the kitchen window, was an orange crescent moon that Powder wasn't sure it was supposed to be the time of the month for it yet.
But strangest of all…
A woman stood in the kitchen with her back to Powder, stirring a mixing bowl. She looked a little like Powder's big sister, only… her skin was paler, almost white as paper, only she was taller and thinner, only her fingers were slightly too long, and they never stopped moving, and her dark red fingernails were curved and sharp. Instead of short, pink hair, this woman had long, lilac hair, woven in a perfect braid that lay over her shoulder. She wore overalls and a brown T-shirt…
"M-Mom?"
Powder knew she had to be dreaming. Her mother was dead. Both of her parents were dead. She had been at their funeral, been given the memorial flag. Yet the woman perked up at the sound of her voice and turned around.
"You're just in time for supper, dear," she said with a smile like she was expecting her.
Powder gasped, stepping back. This woman had the same face as her mother's picture, but…
"You're not my mother. My mother doesn't have… b-b-b –"
"B-b-b-buttons?" The woman giggled, sounding a lot like Vi's laugh. She set down the bowl of mashed potatoes and tapped one of her button eyes. "Do you like them? I'm your other mother, silly," she said in a sweet and light-hearted voice, like there was no anxiety in her at all.
Powder couldn't help but stare at her. She was exactly like she was in the photograph.
The woman that resembled her mother turned and bent to open the oven door. "Now, go tell your other father that supper is ready."
Powder stared in confusion. When Powder didn't move, the woman gestured down the hall, sliding a chicken-shaped oven mitt over her hand.
"Go on," she said sweetly. "He's in the study."
Without anything to say, Powder eyed her as she backed away and headed down the hall toward Vander's office. She could faintly hear music coming out of the room…
…
Powder put her hand on the door of the study and pushed it open.
"Hello?"
The study looked different too. The walls were painted brighter blue. Picture frames with jagged shapes were colored orange, all of which featured paintings of jazzy music notes.
Someone else had their back to Powder, sitting where the desk used to be. But instead of the desk, there was a deep red, baby grand piano. There was a man with tan skin and black hair.
"Hello, Powder!" he said cheerfully as he turned around on a stool to face her.
Powder stopped in her tracks again.
This man also looked just like her real father. But his messy, black hair was combed back, and he didn't have his gray army cap. He wore silk pajamas and a fancy, red, smoking jacket with black trim and orange polka dots, cinched around his waist. On his feet were silly, orange monkey slippers, with tiny cymbals that clashed together cheerfully. But where she expected to see his hazel eyes, he didn't have any.
He also had button eyes. Big, black, shiny.
"Wanna hear my new song?" the man asked with a smile like her father's.
Or was it Vander's smile? Or maybe it was just the way all fathers smiled at their kids.
"My father can't play piano," Powder said hesitantly.
"Don't need to," he replied, frankly.
Suddenly, a pair of mechanical arms with white gloves popped out of the deep red piano cover and fitted themselves on top of his hands. Powder stared in amazement. She'd never seen an invention like it before. She didn't think it existed.
"This piano plays me," he said with a smirk.
Just before he expected it, the mechanical arms lifted him up by his wrists and turned him around to face the piano in a silly manner, even though he wasn't prepared. He laughed and his gloved fingers went flying over the piano keys.
Her other father tapped his foot to the beat and a platform in the floor began spinning the piano in circles. He sang with perfect pitch.
Making up a song about Powder!
She's a hoot, she's a doll,
I sing loud for her!
She's as cute as a button in the eyes of everyone
Whoever laid their eyes on Powder!
When she comes around exploring
Mom and I will never, ever make it boring!
Our eyes will be on Powder!
With a last pound on the keys, he smiled at her.
"I'm sorry…" Powder tentatively stepped forward and tapped his shoulder. He simply cocked his head to look at her thoughtfully. Powder shifted on her heels. "… but, uh, she said to tell you the food's ready."
"Mmm!" The other father rubbed a hand over his belly. "Who's starving? Raise your hand," he said, raising his hand.
Just as he said it, his other gloved hand shot up in agreement, subtly hitting himself in the face as it did. He laughed.
It made Powder laugh too. Really laugh.
Gosh, when was the last time I laughed? She wondered.
…
Soon, Powder found herself sitting at the head of the dining room table, flanked by the mysterious strangers that resembled her family. Thankfully, this room seemed the same, apart from the tableful of food on the table. A huge, golden-brown roasted chicken sat in the middle, with bowels of fried potatoes, and tiny green peas, and yellow ears of corn.
The other father cleared his throat, folding his hands. The other mother did too, so Powder followed suit.
"We give our thanks and ask to bless our mother's golden… chicken breast," the other father laughed.
As he did, the mother made a bashful face and waved her hand at him.
Powder liked watching them, getting a warm feeling in her stomach.
They were just so happy. They liked each other, and they liked Powder.
As the other father started putting food on his plate, Powder reached across the table and pulled a leg from the huge chicken in front of her. She smelled it and her mouth watered. It smelled wonderful. This had to be real. Better than real.
She took a bite and relished it. "Mmm! This chicken is good!"
It was the best chicken Powder had ever eaten.
When Vander cooked chicken, he bought real chicken, but he did strange things to it, like stewing it in wine or stuffing it with prunes or baking it in pastry, and Powder would always refuse to touch it on principle.
Vi sometimes made separate chicken for her, but it was always out of packets or frozen, and it was very dry. It never tasted of anything.
The other mother smiled at Powder's compliment. "Hungry, aren't you?"
Powder shoveled the food into her mouth, raking a spoonful of mashed potatoes from a large bowl onto her plate.
"Do you have any gravy?" she asked, her mouth a little full, looking at the table.
"Well, here comes the gravy train. Choo-choo!" the other mother pulled an imaginary cable above her head.
Powder watched as a miniature train with real steam weaved in a figure-eight around the plates and bowls of food, through a tunnel under a cornucopia of fruit, and pulled to a stop in front of her plate. A train car with a saucer of gravy was lifted by another mechanical arm and poured itself onto her mashed potatoes, giving the perfect amount.
"Huh," Powder huffed, impressed.
"Another roll? Sweet peas? Corn on the cob?" the other mother asked as Powder shoveled more food in her mouth.
Powder sat back in her chair and eyed the whole table. "I'm real thirsty," she said with a pocket of food in her cheek as she chewed.
"Of course!" The other mother gestured to the chandelier that drooped lower from the ceiling. "Any requests?" she asked.
Now Powder was certain she was dreaming. The chandelier had bottles of different drinks and smoothies attached to its arms, with handles and spigots to dispense the drinks.
"Mango milkshake?" Powder asked.
The chandelier spun a full rotation, then stopped on an orange-colored milkshake in front of her. Powder took her glass, which she realized was now a milkshake glass, and helped herself to pouring the drink.
As she gulped down her favorite flavor, the dinner plates were cleared away and the other mother came back from the kitchen with something in her arms. She leaned over Powder's shoulder and placed a cake in front of her, iced with pink frosting. As though by magic, white flowers bloomed around the edge of the cake and candles grew out of the center of each one. Cursive lettering scribbled on the cake's face. It read, 'Welcome home!'
"Home?" Powder asked.
The other father came to stand behind the other mother's chair. She held his hand on her shoulder.
"We've been waiting for you, Powder," the other mother said, slanting her head like they were ready for a picture. A picture-perfect family.
"For me?" Powder said, pointing to herself.
"Yep. Wasn't the same without you, kiddo," the other father said.
Powder pursed her lips. "But… you died."
Her other parents looked to each other, the way grownups did, and frowned sadly. The other mother reached across the table to touch Powder's hand.
"We're so sorry they left you, dear. But we can be a family again," she said with a smile that grew hopeful.
Powder didn't know what to say at first, but pulled her hand away, tucking it in her lap. Then she felt a pang of guilt for doing it.
"I didn't know I had an 'other' mother," Powder replied, trying to smooth the awkward silence.
"Of course, you do!" the other mother chuckled, "Everyone does."
"Really?" Powder said skeptically, twisting in her chair.
"Uh-huh." The other mother leaned forward with a hand over her heart. "And as soon as you're through eating, I thought we'd play a game," she said excitedly, her button eyes flashing for a moment.
Despite her wide smile, the other mother started drumming her fingers on the table, her red fingernails tapping on the wood, incessantly. Feeling an ominous sense of warning, Powder decided to comply.
"Like… hide and seek?" she suggested.
"Perfect!" the other mother exclaimed, her gaze never leaving Powder's face, "Hide and seek in the rain!"
Powder furrowed her eyebrows. "What rain?"
Immediately, a bolt of lightning flashed outside the dining room window, making Powder jump. It started pouring outside.
She shook her head in disbelief. "But… what about the mud?"
"We love mud, here!" said the other father, throwing his arms out.
"Mud facials, mud baths, mud pies! It's great for poison oak," said the other mother.
Powder flinched, recoiling when the other mother reached out to touch her itchy hand.
"How did you know I…?"
But Powder decided to save her questions. She backed out of her chair and stood up.
"I mean… I'd love to play but, I better get home to my other mother."
"But I'm your other mother," the other mother said with a chuckle.
"I mean my other other mother," Powder answered her, "You know, mom number one." A pang of guilt hurt her in the chest as she corrected herself, "I mean… sister, number one."
Powder backed up but bumped into the other father who simply smiled and waved at her.
"I think I should get to bed," Powder said.
The other mother nodded in agreement. "Of course, sweetheart. It's all made up," she said sweetly, gesturing upstairs.
Powder blinked. "But, I –"
"Come along, sleepyhead," the other father gently pushed at her back.
And they led Powder upstairs, escorting her to what would be her bedroom.
…
Powder followed the other mother up the staircase and down the hall toward her 'other' bedroom. But whatever nerves Powder had were gone when she pushed the door open.
It was different than her bedroom at home. For a start, it was painted in a soothing shade of pink and lavender stripes. Glow-in-the-dark stars spattered the walls and ceiling. Powder decided she wouldn't want to have to sleep in there, but that the color scheme was an awful lot more interesting than her own bedroom.
Her fourposter bed wasn't dark mahogany anymore, it was painted fresh white and had a short, lacy canopy above. The wooden floorboards weren't dull brown or chipped and scratched, but deep magenta and polished to shine.
As she looked around, she saw all the furniture was painted bright white. Pieces that didn't exist before were here. A vanity with a large, oval mirror sat in a corner, and a proper nightstand stood guard by her bed. On the ceiling, a mobile model of the solar system with glowing planets orbited around a softly glowing orange sun.
There were all sorts of remarkable toys that she'd never seen before. Windup butterflies that fluttered around the bedroom like startled sparrows, books with pictures that writhed and crawled and shimmered, little dinosaur skulls that chatted their teeth as she passed, a rocking rhinoceros, and a whole toy box filled with wonderful toys.
This is more like it, thought Powder.
She looked outside the bay windows of the turret tower attached to her room. Outside, the view was the same one that she saw from her own bedroom. Trees, fields, and beyond them, on the horizon, distant purple hills.
Powder thought she heard wind and saw the picture frame that sat on a proper nightstand. She sat on the bed and held the picture frame in her hands.
Inside the picture of their old house, the grass in the background moved, bowing in a soft wind. The windchimes on the porch tinkled above their heads. She could hear her younger self laughing in her mother's arms.
"I remember that day," the other mother smiled as she gently sat on the bed with Powder. "You loved helping me work."
Powder stared at the picture for a while, thinking that something was missing. In a flash, Powder suddenly remembered her sister. But when she blinked her eyes, where she could've sworn it was only her mother, father, and her, her sister reappeared as though she'd been there all along.
"Where… is Violet?" she asked hesitantly.
The other mother stroked her head. "You will see her soon."
Then the other mother sat on the chair beside her bed with a jar in her hands. It took Powder a second to understand what it was as the other mother gestured for her hand.
"Oh. The mud."
The other mother spread the sandy yet congealed stuff on her palm and Powder relaxed with the coolness of it. A yawn escaped her then and she turned over to lay her head on the pillow, hugging the picture frame close.
She registered the light turning off and the presence of the other mother and father still there, watching over her.
"See you soon," she heard them say as she drifted off to sleep…