21
“May I have this?” he had asked, indicating to the mask in the leaves as he buttoned his jeans and straightened his back.
I nodded, a lump in my throat as I tried to swallow the swell of confusion in my chest.
“Thank you. I shall cherish it forever.”
And then he was gone, his shadow dissipating through the trees.
I unsteadily straightened, my legs quivering as an ache took hold in my stomach. Moisture wicked through my underwear, a sign of what had happened that made me feel both queasy and exhilarated.
Is this what womanhood was? Is this what my mother insisted I need to be ready for, when my bleed began and I faced a whole new perspective of the world.
I had run to Francesca immediately, not telling her of the union because the new secret I held felt too valuable, too gilded.
Instead, blaming the tears on the loss of the mask.
Weaving a story of how I had become so overwhelmed with emotion that I offered it to Cole as he passed me in the woods.
That he had reluctantly accepted it, and moved on with confusion.
That our interaction had ceased there, rather than with him leaving me frayed and yearning on the forest floor with a new attachment swelling in my chest.
Pity glistened in her eyes as she comforted me, her familiar scent settling my nerves as I pressed my face to the crook of her neck and she pat my back.
A knowing thrum began in my chest as I breathed in her scent, a lingering desire that wound through my fingertips as they itched to press to Francesca’s skin. She was my best friend, my anchor, and I loved her so fiercely that often it felt sinful.
“It’s okay, Heather. It’s time to grow up, now,” she said, patting my back as I sobbed into her shirt.
My body still ached; a splinter of memory having burrowed into my thoughts making it hard to focus on anything other than that feeling of Cole’s fingers pressed between my legs.
There was shame that shadowed that feeling, but mostly, I wanted it again.
Mostly, I wanted to offer that feeling to the person who meant more to me than any other.
Francesca pushed me back, the absence of her scent leaving me hollow as I wiped my tears.
“It’s almost time to leave, and you need to be ready,” she said firmly. “No more thoughts of Cole or Rabbit – our new life begins the night of the feast. You must prepare yourself.”
Her eyes darkened, teeth pressing to her lip as she regarded me. As though she saw through me, saw the ache in my stomach, saw the unrelenting swarm of fireflies in my chest as I regarded her back.
The winter feast was still weeks away, but the importance of it was all Francesca would talk about. How the high winter moon is a good omen for success.
“Go now, Heather. I will see you tomorrow,” She insisted, pressing a kiss to my forehead before she slipped behind her door leaving my skin tingling with wanting.
I returned through the forest, tears still slipping from my lashes as I considered life without Rabbit. It was who I was, for as long as I could recall. And the loss of it felt suffocating.
I dragged my feet through the mud, eyes glancing all directions in hopes that Cole might find me once more. The ache grew through me as I recalled the press of his hand beneath my shirt.
Rabbit or not, that night I was reborn. A woman, a sinner.
Yet the sadness clung to me with each step, Rabbit still woven through my thoughts.
And so, as I picked up my pace, rushing home, a decision was made. Rabbit was who I was, without it I felt scraped out, and I wasn’t ready to let her go.
Another,
a replacement, was what I needed.