Chapter 3 Monroe
MONROE
The mid-morning streets are a flurry of motion despite the stagnant humidity.
It’s so bright, I can barely make out the faces of the people I pass, their expressions slashed by sunshine, until I reach a spot of shade.
I swerve around a couple walking their Pomeranian, bulky crate held in my balmy grip.
Switching hands, I wipe my palm on my skirt and return their greeting with a swift nod of my head.
Even on my days off I dress up, a firm believer in enclothed cognition. It always boosts my mood. At least the vet seemed to appreciate the outfit. The attention was welcome, along with some harmless flirting, until a furry chestnut paw swatted him.
Phone buzzing, I step out of the middle of the sidewalk and set the crate down a moment to read the new messages, pinging my assistant to move up my Monday afternoon appointment so I can take Beth to visit Richard in the hospital.
Quickly swiping to my grocery app, I order some food to send to Beth for tomorrow night, not wanting her to feel obligated to cook for me.
I stuff my phone into my purse, pick up the crate, and cart it across the street.
My watch vibrates against my wrist. I wait until I’m on the sidewalk, look at the notification, and snort at the reminder to do some deep breathing to lower my heart rate.
They’re popping up with more frequency lately, and it feels like a personal attack.
I don’t have time to slow down. A woman in motion stays in motion.
It’s sheer physics. Tonight, once I’m done with everything, I can veg out, enjoy some tea, maybe paint and convince Jessica to snuggle. I’ll need them.
Sir Thumps-A-Lot shifts within his crate, and my ribs pinch. Despite his continuous low-grade fever, the vet believes he’s good to return to life as normal. As thrilled as I am for him, I’m going to miss the rascally fluff butt.
While there’s nothing indicating he had an owner, and the vet says no one has called looking for him, releasing him back into the woods near where I found him seems cruel. Maybe it’s a twist of fate that he landed in my care and he’s meant to be mine.
Jessica wouldn’t be on board for it, but maybe she’d come around.
Frowning, because I know she won’t, I cross the street in the direction of the basketball court where I found him.
Sweat beads across my chest and arms, tinting my pink blouse with splotches of scarlet.
God, I wasn’t meant for this heat. Every summer is more oppressive than the last. I’ve lived here my whole life, was born in the Virginia suburbs and moved to Arlington while I worked on my doctorate.
Not needing a car is one of my favorite things about the area, but that was before I was toting around a crate at the end of July.
I plop down on the bench and set the crate next to me. Sir Thumps-A-Lot wriggles his nose against the grate.
“You hungry, little guy?” His nostrils flare and one floppy ear perks up, knocking against the ceiling. I rifle through my purse and pull out a Ziploc bag of hay I keep with me. Food is the way to my heart, I figure the same goes for bunnies.
Tugging the latch, I let him come into my lap and hold up a palmful of hay to his nose. After a few wriggles, he begins grazing, his left ear twitching all the while. I scratch the base of it, along with his chin, and once he’s devoured the pile in my hand, he nuzzles my palm.
His body still shakes, as if we aren’t in the sweltering summer heat, and I’m so glad Dr. Bradford told me it’s just nerves. I kiss the soft, quivering tuft of fur between his ears, hoping it’ll calm him. “Maybe I should keep you.”
Contrary to popular belief, bunnies aren’t necessarily snuggly—Jessica is a testament to that—but this chestnut fluff is always ready for a cuddle.
He vibrates and leans against me, thumping his paw gently until his eyes drift shut.
He’s been sleeping more and more with each passing week, but the vet said it was probably his little body healing. Nothing to worry about.
I still do, though.
I continue petting him as cars and pedestrians go past. The world is a blur of movement, but I inhale, grounding myself in the present where no one needs me but the shivering puff in my lap.
This is just my disappointment creating reasons he’s not ready for me to let him go.
Exhaling, I focus on his soft fur beneath my fingerpads.
You helped this creature, but he’s not yours. Now it’s time to release him.
I’ve done this before. It’s not like I didn’t know this day would come. The space between my eyes heats and I blink quickly until the sensation dissipates.
Out of the corner of my eye, a spotted creature hops at lightning speed, darting behind a bush. It takes me a moment to catch it peeking from behind a tree across the street. A black-and-white bunny stands on its hind legs, ears pricked, zeroed in on my chestnut buddy.
“You’ve got a friend,” I whisper to a snoozing Sir Thumps-A-Lot.
His ear twitches between my fingertips, then he shoots out from my lap and stumbles toward the street.
My stomach lurches.
“Sir Thumps-A-Lot!” I scream, scrambling to grab the crate and run after him.
My heart rattles, breath stuck in my throat, watching him weave between cars and nearly get run over by a bicycle. He struggles a bit getting over the lip of the sidewalk, trying to push off his injured leg.
Shit.
What if he’s reinjured it? There’s no way I’m going to watch him become road kill.
I sprint across the street for him as he finally gets over the ledge. The back of my heel snaps, and my legs buckle, ankle giving way.
I leave the stiletto in the road and tug off my other shoe so I can move quicker, but when I look back up, he’s gone, the black-and-white bunny disappearing along with him.
Where—
A horn blares, followed by the discordant shriek of rubber against road.
I snap my head to the side, body frozen in place.
A blur of orange comes into focus.
A bus.
But the realization comes too late.
There’s the smack of the steel and the blinding crunch of bone…
Then everything bursts to black.