Untitled Story - Prologue & Chapter 1

A Story by Phil

A rough (rough) first couple chapters of a story I started writing some time ago.

It’s funny how things turn out differently than you would think. The moment I first held my daughter in my hands, I knew she was different. Obviously you never really know what it will be like holding your first child for the first time until you do it, but I knew something was different about her when the nurse handed her to me. She didn’t cry. From the moment she came out and the cord was clipped, all she did was look around, almost as if she had been expecting the world to look exactly the way she saw it for the first time. And then she looked at me. Of course at this point, I was crying like, well, like a baby. And when she looked at me, she smiled. I know what you are thinking-babies that young don’t smile. I know you are thinking that because I was thinking the same thing. Babies don’t smile; just look in any baby book and you will find the warning that for the first few months of life, babies only look like they are smiling, when really what they are doing is yawning or passing gas, or being on the verge of screaming. But like I said before, my daughter was different.

In fact, looking back, I don’t remember her crying at all--not when she needed her diaper changed, not when she was hungry, not when she was tired. She would make noises to let us know that she was still there, and she would nurse on schedule like clockwork. People said she was the easiest baby in the world, and I am inclined to believe them. The problem with this line of thinking is that people follow up saying that by telling you that you had better watch out, because the next one will surely be a hellion. We never got that chance to find out if this is true. We found out later that my wife wouldn’t be able to have any more children. We visited all sorts of doctors and had all kinds of tests done. I came home from work one day and my wife sat me down and told me that the test results were in and it was her fault that we couldn’t have any more kids. The thing was, she never got choked up or misty when she told me, and I have come to suspect that it was in fact me who couldn’t have kids, and because of who she was she shouldered all the blame herself. I have tried to bring it up, but she would just give me a sad little smile and not say anything, which of course only affirms my suspicions all the more. In the end though, it didn’t matter. We had each other, and we had Madison, and that was all that mattered.

I will warn you at this point that this is where my story takes a turn into the mysterious. My job isn’t convincing you of this though; I only have the responsibility to tell the story, not to make you believe it…

Chapter 1

“Lucy, I’m home!”

The beauty of irony is that we sometimes fail to see it, even when it comes out of our own mouths. I say this because my wife’s name is Lucy, and apparently I missed my own joke, because when I heard her giggle as she came down the stairs, I had no idea what was so funny.

“I know, Ricky, I heard you slam the door”, she said, smiling. “Nice touch by the way, you woke your daughter up.”

Of course, my name isn’t Ricky, and if you haven’t already caught the reference to The Lucy/Desi Comedy Hour, don’t feel bad, because I still didn’t catch my own joke. “Why don’t you go get Madison and bring her down, it is almost time for her dinner anyway”, my wife said, still grinning at my confusion.

“Ok”, I replied, bounding up the stairs.

When I got into Madison’s room, she was standing up in her crib, hands outstretched to me and a big smile on her face. “Daddy!” she shouted with joy, as only kids can do.

“Hey Pumpkin, were you good for Mommy today?”

She smiled a little half-smile, as if she really knew what I was saying. Of course, she had only recently started talking, saying a few words here and there. But I swear she knew what I was saying and just didn’t want to say anything back. I was turning to pull her out of the crib and bring her back downstairs when I noticed something in the corner of her crib. It looked like fur of some kind. I picked it up and rubbed it between my fingers. That’s weird, I thought. Oh well…I threw it on the ground and hoped Lucy wouldn’t notice it on the carpet.

“Don’t tell Mommy about that”, I whispered in my daughter’s ear. She giggled as my breath tickled her neck.

I walked downstairs and sat Madison in the high chair as Lucy brought a small bowl of mushy cereal out.

“You want to feed her tonight?” Lucy asked.

“Sure”. I pulled a chair up and started feeding her. She ate the food, but her dislike of it was evident. She made a face after every spoonful, and yet still ate every bit of it. Like I said before, people said she was an easy baby, and I am inclined to agree with them. Plus, every idea I had of messiness went out the window with Madison…the kid was a cleaner eater than I was.

“Hey Luce”, I said, nonchalantly. “Did Madison have any stuffed animals in her crib today?”

“No, not that I remember. Why?” She looked alarmed.

“I dunno, I just noticed a little bit of fur or fluff or something in the corner of her crib when I got her a little while ago. It was probably nothing though,” I said, hoping Lucy wouldn’t worry.

“BUNNIES!” Madison chose this moment to surprise us with another word.

“That’s right, you like bunnies, don’t you honey?” Lucy cooed to her. She turned to me “She’s been saying that all afternoon…she must have seen it on TV or something”.

Lately, the Baby Channel on cable was all the rage with the mothers groups that Lucy was a part of. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what the big deal was; most of the shows on there looked like nature programs, with bunnies and duckies and puppies dominating the screen time-heck, we could have cut off our cable and turned on PBS for Madison. Of course, then the nature shows would involve bunnies being chased and eaten by big kittens, and I suppose those shows would do more harm than good. That’s probably why Dad’s don’t run major cable corporations-imagine the letters from mothers.

“Yeah,” I said. “Bunnies are nice.”

Of course we know now what she was really talking about, but at the time, we just thought our kid was smart for knowing farm animals already. Even knowing, it still would have been a shock.

A few days later we found out. I had come home early from a project. Lucy must have seen me pull into the driveway, because I had barely stepped into the house when she came running up, grabbed my hand, and half led/half dragged me through the kitchen into the den. We pulled up short and peered into the room. I gasped when I saw what Lucy had been so eager to show me. Sitting on the floor with a few toys strewn about was Madison, and in the room with her were 4 or 5 actual rabbits, brownish with white bellies. She was petting one, and the other ones were either lying down or sniffing around our den as if it were some meadow. Madison showed no fear, and neither did the rabbits. She looked over and saw us, smiled a huge smile, and said triumphantly: “Bunnies!”

Lucy walked in, scooped Madison up, and as she was walking out looked and me and said “We have a bunny problem”.

What was I supposed to do? I wasn’t a vet, or some sort of magician who could just put the rabbits back into an overturned top hat, waive a stick over the top and make them disappear. So I did what any good, logical man would do. So I closed to door to the den and walked into my kitchen, grabbed the yellow pages, and looked up the B section for “Bunny Removers”. Not finding any listings, I looked up “Rabbit Removers”, still had no luck, and decided to call information to get the number for someone who could help me get rabbits out of my house before they started multiplying. I dialed information and walked over to the den to make sure our four footed friends hadn’t escaped into the other parts of the house, and looked in just as the operator picked up.

“Directory Assistance, how can I help you?” the woman’s voice on the other end of the line said.

“I need a, uh…” I stopped midsentence. “Never mind, sorry about that,” I said, and pressed the OFF button. “Lucy, I need you!” I shouted.

She came over with Madison still in her arms. “What’s the matter?”

“They’re gone,” I stammered. “Did you let them out?”

“No, I was in the bathroom making sure there weren’t any bite marks on her.”

I turned back to the room. Apparently we both imagined the whole thing. Rabbits don’t just disappear out of thin air, and after searching the house, we found no trace that there had ever been any animals in our house.