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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Life Experience
- Published: 07/16/2011
Buddies Bunnies
Born 1943, F, from Elk Grove, California, United States![Buddies Bunnies](/storage/story/1310958195boyand rabbits-image(340x285-crop).jpg)
Buddies Bunnies
Monday AM:
The sound of the teapot shrieking for attention broke into Marjorie’s thoughts. She poured boiling water over her teabag and glanced out the kitchen window. Buddy’s Bunnies were the one “bright spot” in his complicated little 12-year-old life. His clothes might pile up under the bed, his homework would be forgotten, he would be late for school, he would bring home an “F” on his spelling test, but he wouldn’t neglect his bunnies!
Marjorie was not in favor of her ex-husband giving the tiny bunnies to Buddy several month’s ago. She thought, like all of Buddy’s good intentions, she would end up caring for them. But Buddy had accepted the responsibility and daily tended their needs. When he was in trouble at school or at home, he could always be found with his bunnies, telling them his troubles and they always lightened his burden.
Marjorie wished she had some “bright spot” that could lighten her load... It wasn’t easy being a divorcee, raising a 12-year-old boy alone, working part time, running a house, and now the added responsibility of the Flower Show right around the corner.
Perhaps there was a “bright spot” after all. She thought of her gladiolas growing by the side of the garage and imagined them arranged in a beautiful vase at the Flower Show. She could envision a blue ribbon on the vase.
And of course, there was Buddy. He could be a sheer delight when he wanted to be, but lately she wondered, maybe he would be better off with Ed. A boy needs his father. Buddy hadn’t done well since the divorce. His grades had slipped, he developed new habits of tardiness, sloppy homework, and she caught him telling lies last week.
Marjorie assured herself that all 12-year-old boys told an occasional lie, did sloppy homework once in a while, and were often tardy, especially after a divorce. It was a difficult time for a child, especially a boy; a changing time when a boy is becoming a man. It was nothing to worry about. Weren’t the rabbits a sign he was becoming more caring and responsible? Buddy would be okay. He just needed more time. She wished they were closer and he would confide in her.
But now she needed to clean up the kitchen and pick up the Flower Show posters and the tickets. She would try to spend more time with Buddy this weekend. No. The Flower Show was this weekend. Perhaps they could go to dinner after it closed. No, I’ve offered to help clean up the hall after the show. Oh, I’ll just call Ed. Maybe he’ll take Buddy camping.
Marjorie put her cup in the sink and smiled as she passed the window, glancing once again at Buddy’s beloved bunnies.
Tuesday PM
Marjorie tugged at a weed making its way through the warm earth between the stalks of her pink gladiolas. She added another garden tie to the stake. The buds were tight with just a hint of the gorgeous color expected as the flowers opened up and down the stalks. Her timing was perfect; the planting last fall, the weeding, the hoeing and the plant food as the tiny shoots began to surface. The timing had to be perfect if they were to be in full bloom on a certain day on a certain month in a certain Flower Show this weekend!
She had carefully selected the bulbs from the last year’s winning gardener. She had waited through the long winter to see if the bulbs would survive the cold nights, they had; if they would survive in the Spring when the snails raided, they had; and survive the weeds that kept trying to choke her infant stalks, they had!
So far, she had been persistent against the foes that attacked her plants and she had conquered all assailants. Now, the gladiolas last hurdle - they needed to bloom by Saturday.
She felt confident that she would be triumphant, even in this last conflict with nature. The flowers would surely be in full bloom with the unseasonably hot days this spring, and she could already tell the colors would be magnificent. She envisioned them again in the marvelous antique Chinese vase discovered at an auction last winter. She could almost feel the smooth silk blue ribbon that would hang from her entry and taste the blue ribbon winner’s champagne.
Buddy’s bicycle screeched to a stop in the driveway and her warm thoughts shattered as she glanced at her watch. Late again.
Marjorie had a sudden inspiration. Perhaps she could include Buddy in her gardening project. She imagined their conversation -
“Buddy, dear, will you help me care for my flowers this week? I have so many things to do to get ready for the show. I won’t have time to water the flowers. Perhaps we could put both our names on the entry and if we win, you could share the blue ribbons. You are so special to me. I don’t know how I can do it without your help.” It sounded wonderful, so warm and thoughtful.
He would smile and say, “Oh mother, how I’ve wanted to help you with your flowers, but I never dared to ask. I knew how important they were to you. I thought you wanted to keep them all to yourself.”
And she would smile and say, “Oh, Buddy, I’m so glad we had this little talk. I want to share so many things with you. If we could only be better friends!” And she would give him a hug and they would walk hand and hand into the house for dinner.
Buddy rounded the corner of the garage. “When’s dinner? I have to go to Boy Scouts at 6:00 PM.”
And Marjorie said, “Where have you been? This is the second time this week you’ve been late. When do you expect to get your homework done if you go to a Scout meeting? I haven’t even started dinner yet.”
“Why not? You knew I had Scout meeting tonight. I’m always late for meetings because dinner is late.”
“I need you to water the flowers this week because I have too much to do with the Flower Show. Now I have to take off work tomorrow and go to a Parent Teacher conference because your grades are so bad. You better not be late tomorrow. And don’t forget to water my flowers!”
Buddy picked up a mud clod and threw it at the garage wall where it smashed and left a brown spot two feet above the stalks. “Buddy!” Marjorie screamed, “Get in the house this minute.” Buddy turned and stomped into the house and turned on the TV.
Marjorie gathered her garden tools and followed him. What happened? I had it all planned out what we would say. What went wrong? Tears burned her eyes. She wiped them away because she didn’t want him to see her cry.
Wednesday
Buddy walked his bike up the hill after school. It had been a bad day, as usual. He couldn’t turn in his spelling homework because of the Scout meeting. He was late for class after lunch and the teacher yelled at him. Charlene had wadded up his note and thrown it away. Buddy’s life seemed to be in constant turmoil lately.
Dad had moved out. Charlene couldn’t stand him and said he smelled bad. Mom was always yelling at him for something that wasn’t his fault. He didn’t always have time to do his homework or help with the housework. That’s sissy work anyway. Mom always wants me to dry the dumb dishes, or asks me to do some dumb thing, like this morning, “Come straight home after school and water my stupid flowers, then take the dumb flower show posters to Doc Hansen’s store and deliver the stupid flower show tickets.” Well, maybe she hadn’t said it exactly like that. Women!
He sure missed Dad. Maybe he would even like to live with him. It would be better than living with Mom. She just doesn’t understand us men. Dad said so once himself. Boy, was he right! All she thinks about are her dumb flowers. Sometimes I’d like to pull them out by the roots. She thinks they’re more important than I am. Now I got to go home and water the dumb things and run all over town and do her errands.
Buddy passed the high school. He paused to watch a couple of guys playing basketball. I guess they’re probably having about the best time guys can have after school. They don’t have to run errands for their moms, for Pete’s sake! Maybe I can play for just a few minutes and still have time to do Mom’s errands and feed my rabbits.
Buddy dropped his bike and ran to the court. “Hey, pass me one!” and he sunk the ball neatly through the hoop.
The sun crept toward the west as the boys scored basket after basket. The posters and tickets lay forgotten in Buddy’s bedroom and the gladiolas opened their blooms miraculously in the sunshine as only gladiolas can do on a spring afternoon. They stretched their thirsty roots into the dry earth, seeking just a hint of moisture to nourish the delicate pink blossoms.
Wednesday Dinner Time
“How was school today, Buddy? Did you have a good day?
“Sure. Great.”
“How did you do on your spelling test?”
“Fine.”
“How’s that new girlfriend? Charlene, isn’t it?”
“Great. She’s crazy about me. Can’t keep her eyes off me. She writes me notes all the time.”
“Now Buddy, you probably shouldn’t write notes in school. You don’t want to get in trouble, do you?”
“No.”
“Did you get the posters and tickets delivered, like I asked you?”
“Uhmmm…”
“Did you water my flowers?”
“Uhmmm.”
“Thanks, Buddy. I sure count on you lately.”
“Uhmmm…”
Marjorie got up from the table and picked up the leftover salad. Buddy grabbed it from her and raced out the back door. Buddy felt an unexplainable heaviness in his chest as the rabbits hungrily ate the lettuce and drank thirstily from their dishes.
The heaviness in his chest ached, but it was not quite a physical pain. Buddy whispered… “Shit.”
Thursday
Ed had agreed to pick up Buddy after school on Friday. He planned a camping weekend. She checked her list. Judge’s hotel reservations, check. Tables rented, to be delivered Friday night. Refreshment committee’s report, check. Go to the bank for change for the ticket booth. Posters to Doc Hansen’s store and tickets to the show chairman, check. “Thanks, Buddy!” Cut and arrange her gladiolas and deliver them to the show hall first thing Saturday morning. Everything was coming along as planned.
Thursday Evening
Buddy got home a short time before Mom. He frantically ran the hose around the wilted gladiolas, trying to revive them, hoping that a miracle might yet happen if he could get enough water on them. “She’s gonna’ kill me!” They had not been watered since Tuesday. The unseasonably hot sun had done irreparable damage to the delicate blossoms.
The mud got deeper and the flowers drooped even lower, their waxen blooms curled, their green leaves shriveled and dry, their stalks slightly brown. They would not be revived. It was too late.
Marjorie took one look at the remains of her prize blooms and burst into tears. In one second, her dreams of blue ribbons and champagne toasts were dashed as low as the blossoms drooped. She went into the house and fixed Buddy’s dinner. They ate in silence. Marjorie sat dejected and Buddy sullen-faced and grim, waiting for the explosion he knew would be forthcoming.
“Buddy, you have done a terrible thing. I made you responsible for something that was very important to me. I trusted you to take care of my flowers while I was so busy and you’ve let me down. Someday, you’ll understand that when you hurt someone, it’s like water ripples, but the ripple starts with you and it comes back to you. Whenever your actions hurt someone else, the pain is also yours. What hurts one of us, hurts everyone.”
Buddy sat with a sullen face. He didn’t answer. He hung his head and felt that unexplained heaviness in his chest. He wanted to cry but he couldn’t. He wanted to say he was sorry but his mouth wouldn’t say the words. He wanted to throw himself into his Mom’s arms, but that awful stubborn “something” held him back. He struggled with it, but the “something” was stronger and he lost the struggle. He sat motionless and silent. He didn’t understand his mother’s words. He didn’t understand how her hurt could be his hurt, or what she meant by ripples of water going out and coming back again. Weren’t they just dumb old flowers? If you cut them, they just died anyway, so now they were dead sooner. What’s the difference?
Friday
Buddy left for school without saying good-by. He was leaving with Ed right after school. He had been quiet getting ready for school, not mentioning the flowers or even saying he was sorry. Marjorie agreed to take care of the rabbits this weekend; to cover them with the old tarpaulin at night to protect them from the night air and to uncover them and feed them in the morning. She assured him she would take good care of them.
Marjorie took the day off work to finish her final arrangements for the Saturday show. She helped with the tables and checked on the restaurant for the judge’s luncheon. She removed her name from the list of exhibitors and mimeographed the program. She picked up the rosettes and trophies for the winners. She was disappointed that one of the trophies wouldn’t be hers, but wanted the day to be successful for the others.
About 7:00 PM, she finished the last detail. The hall was decorated and tables marked with exhibitor’s names, ready to receive their floral arrangements in the morning. The room was lovely. The chairman had the tickets and the posters had been placed around town since Wednesday. It’s funny, I never saw one. But she knew Doc Hansen would have given them to the local merchants after Buddy delivered the posters on Wednesday. She locked up the hall and headed home to an empty house. She fed and covered the rabbits before she went to bed.
Saturday
The show chairman called, just as she stepped into the shower. “Marjorie, what time are you coming in? I need the tickets.”
“I don’t have them. Didn’t Buddy bring them to you Wednesday?”
“No. I haven’t seen Buddy this week. I thought you were going to drop them off last night.”
“Oh, Linda! I’m sorry. I’ll try to find them and bring them right down. Buddy told me he took them to you. I can’t believe he lied about it. He’s with his father this weekend.”
“Well, I hate to bother you, but the hall opens in an hour.”
Marjorie threw on her clothes and hurried to Buddie’s room. It was a mess, with clothes and toys and books tossed haphazardly in every corner. She searched through the closet and the stacks of book and then under the bed. There were the tickets and the undelivered show posters! Marjorie was almost in tears again, frustrated with Buddy’s irresponsible behavior and lies. First the flowers and now this!
She dialed Ed’s number on her way out the door and left a message on his cell phone. He should cancel the camping trip and bring Buddy home tonight. They needed to talk about a serious problem.
She grabbed her things and hurried out the door, threw the posters in the back of the car and ran a couple of stop signs on her way to the show hall. The bunnies stepped in empty water dishes as the heat rose beneath the heavy tarpaulin covering their cages.
Saturday night
It was over. The show hall door closed behind the last spectator at 6:00 PM. The exhibitors took their lovely arrangements and the winners packed up their trophies. The show was a success, well attended by the public, in spite of no posters. Marjorie graciously congratulated the blue ribbon winners, believing her flowers were more beautiful, and felt only a twinge of self-pity as she shook their hands. The tables were taken down, the last tablecloth folded and the floor swept as she finally left the hall at 7:30, exhausted, but happy with the success of the show.
As she drove home, thinking of soaking in a hot bath, her smile froze. “The bunnies!” In her frustration this morning, she had forgotten to feed and water them. It had been unusually hot again today and she knew what could happen to a little bunny under a hot tarpaulin, with no water.
The car screeched around the corner, into the driveway. Marjorie grabbed a flashlight and ran into the backyard. The tarpaulin covered cages loomed against the garage wall. She tore the heavy tarpaulin off the cage and flashed her light into the cage. “Oh please, please.”
Tears rolled down her face as she lifted the soft, limp bodies from the cage and carried them into the house. Ed would help Buddy bury them in the backyard. Someday maybe they would get more bunnies, but tonight, there would be many tears and sorrow. She felt a lump in her throat, thinking of the painful hours ahead. Buddy’s lies and irresponsibility had become ripples that flowed out, beginning a sequence of events and now the consequences came full circle. It had cost him dearly. She hoped the terrible lesson would be worth the price they both had paid.
She stooped to pick up the box of bunnies, ready to face her son. She could hear Ed’s car pulling into the driveway.
Buddies Bunnies(Elaine Faber)
Buddies Bunnies
Monday AM:
The sound of the teapot shrieking for attention broke into Marjorie’s thoughts. She poured boiling water over her teabag and glanced out the kitchen window. Buddy’s Bunnies were the one “bright spot” in his complicated little 12-year-old life. His clothes might pile up under the bed, his homework would be forgotten, he would be late for school, he would bring home an “F” on his spelling test, but he wouldn’t neglect his bunnies!
Marjorie was not in favor of her ex-husband giving the tiny bunnies to Buddy several month’s ago. She thought, like all of Buddy’s good intentions, she would end up caring for them. But Buddy had accepted the responsibility and daily tended their needs. When he was in trouble at school or at home, he could always be found with his bunnies, telling them his troubles and they always lightened his burden.
Marjorie wished she had some “bright spot” that could lighten her load... It wasn’t easy being a divorcee, raising a 12-year-old boy alone, working part time, running a house, and now the added responsibility of the Flower Show right around the corner.
Perhaps there was a “bright spot” after all. She thought of her gladiolas growing by the side of the garage and imagined them arranged in a beautiful vase at the Flower Show. She could envision a blue ribbon on the vase.
And of course, there was Buddy. He could be a sheer delight when he wanted to be, but lately she wondered, maybe he would be better off with Ed. A boy needs his father. Buddy hadn’t done well since the divorce. His grades had slipped, he developed new habits of tardiness, sloppy homework, and she caught him telling lies last week.
Marjorie assured herself that all 12-year-old boys told an occasional lie, did sloppy homework once in a while, and were often tardy, especially after a divorce. It was a difficult time for a child, especially a boy; a changing time when a boy is becoming a man. It was nothing to worry about. Weren’t the rabbits a sign he was becoming more caring and responsible? Buddy would be okay. He just needed more time. She wished they were closer and he would confide in her.
But now she needed to clean up the kitchen and pick up the Flower Show posters and the tickets. She would try to spend more time with Buddy this weekend. No. The Flower Show was this weekend. Perhaps they could go to dinner after it closed. No, I’ve offered to help clean up the hall after the show. Oh, I’ll just call Ed. Maybe he’ll take Buddy camping.
Marjorie put her cup in the sink and smiled as she passed the window, glancing once again at Buddy’s beloved bunnies.
Tuesday PM
Marjorie tugged at a weed making its way through the warm earth between the stalks of her pink gladiolas. She added another garden tie to the stake. The buds were tight with just a hint of the gorgeous color expected as the flowers opened up and down the stalks. Her timing was perfect; the planting last fall, the weeding, the hoeing and the plant food as the tiny shoots began to surface. The timing had to be perfect if they were to be in full bloom on a certain day on a certain month in a certain Flower Show this weekend!
She had carefully selected the bulbs from the last year’s winning gardener. She had waited through the long winter to see if the bulbs would survive the cold nights, they had; if they would survive in the Spring when the snails raided, they had; and survive the weeds that kept trying to choke her infant stalks, they had!
So far, she had been persistent against the foes that attacked her plants and she had conquered all assailants. Now, the gladiolas last hurdle - they needed to bloom by Saturday.
She felt confident that she would be triumphant, even in this last conflict with nature. The flowers would surely be in full bloom with the unseasonably hot days this spring, and she could already tell the colors would be magnificent. She envisioned them again in the marvelous antique Chinese vase discovered at an auction last winter. She could almost feel the smooth silk blue ribbon that would hang from her entry and taste the blue ribbon winner’s champagne.
Buddy’s bicycle screeched to a stop in the driveway and her warm thoughts shattered as she glanced at her watch. Late again.
Marjorie had a sudden inspiration. Perhaps she could include Buddy in her gardening project. She imagined their conversation -
“Buddy, dear, will you help me care for my flowers this week? I have so many things to do to get ready for the show. I won’t have time to water the flowers. Perhaps we could put both our names on the entry and if we win, you could share the blue ribbons. You are so special to me. I don’t know how I can do it without your help.” It sounded wonderful, so warm and thoughtful.
He would smile and say, “Oh mother, how I’ve wanted to help you with your flowers, but I never dared to ask. I knew how important they were to you. I thought you wanted to keep them all to yourself.”
And she would smile and say, “Oh, Buddy, I’m so glad we had this little talk. I want to share so many things with you. If we could only be better friends!” And she would give him a hug and they would walk hand and hand into the house for dinner.
Buddy rounded the corner of the garage. “When’s dinner? I have to go to Boy Scouts at 6:00 PM.”
And Marjorie said, “Where have you been? This is the second time this week you’ve been late. When do you expect to get your homework done if you go to a Scout meeting? I haven’t even started dinner yet.”
“Why not? You knew I had Scout meeting tonight. I’m always late for meetings because dinner is late.”
“I need you to water the flowers this week because I have too much to do with the Flower Show. Now I have to take off work tomorrow and go to a Parent Teacher conference because your grades are so bad. You better not be late tomorrow. And don’t forget to water my flowers!”
Buddy picked up a mud clod and threw it at the garage wall where it smashed and left a brown spot two feet above the stalks. “Buddy!” Marjorie screamed, “Get in the house this minute.” Buddy turned and stomped into the house and turned on the TV.
Marjorie gathered her garden tools and followed him. What happened? I had it all planned out what we would say. What went wrong? Tears burned her eyes. She wiped them away because she didn’t want him to see her cry.
Wednesday
Buddy walked his bike up the hill after school. It had been a bad day, as usual. He couldn’t turn in his spelling homework because of the Scout meeting. He was late for class after lunch and the teacher yelled at him. Charlene had wadded up his note and thrown it away. Buddy’s life seemed to be in constant turmoil lately.
Dad had moved out. Charlene couldn’t stand him and said he smelled bad. Mom was always yelling at him for something that wasn’t his fault. He didn’t always have time to do his homework or help with the housework. That’s sissy work anyway. Mom always wants me to dry the dumb dishes, or asks me to do some dumb thing, like this morning, “Come straight home after school and water my stupid flowers, then take the dumb flower show posters to Doc Hansen’s store and deliver the stupid flower show tickets.” Well, maybe she hadn’t said it exactly like that. Women!
He sure missed Dad. Maybe he would even like to live with him. It would be better than living with Mom. She just doesn’t understand us men. Dad said so once himself. Boy, was he right! All she thinks about are her dumb flowers. Sometimes I’d like to pull them out by the roots. She thinks they’re more important than I am. Now I got to go home and water the dumb things and run all over town and do her errands.
Buddy passed the high school. He paused to watch a couple of guys playing basketball. I guess they’re probably having about the best time guys can have after school. They don’t have to run errands for their moms, for Pete’s sake! Maybe I can play for just a few minutes and still have time to do Mom’s errands and feed my rabbits.
Buddy dropped his bike and ran to the court. “Hey, pass me one!” and he sunk the ball neatly through the hoop.
The sun crept toward the west as the boys scored basket after basket. The posters and tickets lay forgotten in Buddy’s bedroom and the gladiolas opened their blooms miraculously in the sunshine as only gladiolas can do on a spring afternoon. They stretched their thirsty roots into the dry earth, seeking just a hint of moisture to nourish the delicate pink blossoms.
Wednesday Dinner Time
“How was school today, Buddy? Did you have a good day?
“Sure. Great.”
“How did you do on your spelling test?”
“Fine.”
“How’s that new girlfriend? Charlene, isn’t it?”
“Great. She’s crazy about me. Can’t keep her eyes off me. She writes me notes all the time.”
“Now Buddy, you probably shouldn’t write notes in school. You don’t want to get in trouble, do you?”
“No.”
“Did you get the posters and tickets delivered, like I asked you?”
“Uhmmm…”
“Did you water my flowers?”
“Uhmmm.”
“Thanks, Buddy. I sure count on you lately.”
“Uhmmm…”
Marjorie got up from the table and picked up the leftover salad. Buddy grabbed it from her and raced out the back door. Buddy felt an unexplainable heaviness in his chest as the rabbits hungrily ate the lettuce and drank thirstily from their dishes.
The heaviness in his chest ached, but it was not quite a physical pain. Buddy whispered… “Shit.”
Thursday
Ed had agreed to pick up Buddy after school on Friday. He planned a camping weekend. She checked her list. Judge’s hotel reservations, check. Tables rented, to be delivered Friday night. Refreshment committee’s report, check. Go to the bank for change for the ticket booth. Posters to Doc Hansen’s store and tickets to the show chairman, check. “Thanks, Buddy!” Cut and arrange her gladiolas and deliver them to the show hall first thing Saturday morning. Everything was coming along as planned.
Thursday Evening
Buddy got home a short time before Mom. He frantically ran the hose around the wilted gladiolas, trying to revive them, hoping that a miracle might yet happen if he could get enough water on them. “She’s gonna’ kill me!” They had not been watered since Tuesday. The unseasonably hot sun had done irreparable damage to the delicate blossoms.
The mud got deeper and the flowers drooped even lower, their waxen blooms curled, their green leaves shriveled and dry, their stalks slightly brown. They would not be revived. It was too late.
Marjorie took one look at the remains of her prize blooms and burst into tears. In one second, her dreams of blue ribbons and champagne toasts were dashed as low as the blossoms drooped. She went into the house and fixed Buddy’s dinner. They ate in silence. Marjorie sat dejected and Buddy sullen-faced and grim, waiting for the explosion he knew would be forthcoming.
“Buddy, you have done a terrible thing. I made you responsible for something that was very important to me. I trusted you to take care of my flowers while I was so busy and you’ve let me down. Someday, you’ll understand that when you hurt someone, it’s like water ripples, but the ripple starts with you and it comes back to you. Whenever your actions hurt someone else, the pain is also yours. What hurts one of us, hurts everyone.”
Buddy sat with a sullen face. He didn’t answer. He hung his head and felt that unexplained heaviness in his chest. He wanted to cry but he couldn’t. He wanted to say he was sorry but his mouth wouldn’t say the words. He wanted to throw himself into his Mom’s arms, but that awful stubborn “something” held him back. He struggled with it, but the “something” was stronger and he lost the struggle. He sat motionless and silent. He didn’t understand his mother’s words. He didn’t understand how her hurt could be his hurt, or what she meant by ripples of water going out and coming back again. Weren’t they just dumb old flowers? If you cut them, they just died anyway, so now they were dead sooner. What’s the difference?
Friday
Buddy left for school without saying good-by. He was leaving with Ed right after school. He had been quiet getting ready for school, not mentioning the flowers or even saying he was sorry. Marjorie agreed to take care of the rabbits this weekend; to cover them with the old tarpaulin at night to protect them from the night air and to uncover them and feed them in the morning. She assured him she would take good care of them.
Marjorie took the day off work to finish her final arrangements for the Saturday show. She helped with the tables and checked on the restaurant for the judge’s luncheon. She removed her name from the list of exhibitors and mimeographed the program. She picked up the rosettes and trophies for the winners. She was disappointed that one of the trophies wouldn’t be hers, but wanted the day to be successful for the others.
About 7:00 PM, she finished the last detail. The hall was decorated and tables marked with exhibitor’s names, ready to receive their floral arrangements in the morning. The room was lovely. The chairman had the tickets and the posters had been placed around town since Wednesday. It’s funny, I never saw one. But she knew Doc Hansen would have given them to the local merchants after Buddy delivered the posters on Wednesday. She locked up the hall and headed home to an empty house. She fed and covered the rabbits before she went to bed.
Saturday
The show chairman called, just as she stepped into the shower. “Marjorie, what time are you coming in? I need the tickets.”
“I don’t have them. Didn’t Buddy bring them to you Wednesday?”
“No. I haven’t seen Buddy this week. I thought you were going to drop them off last night.”
“Oh, Linda! I’m sorry. I’ll try to find them and bring them right down. Buddy told me he took them to you. I can’t believe he lied about it. He’s with his father this weekend.”
“Well, I hate to bother you, but the hall opens in an hour.”
Marjorie threw on her clothes and hurried to Buddie’s room. It was a mess, with clothes and toys and books tossed haphazardly in every corner. She searched through the closet and the stacks of book and then under the bed. There were the tickets and the undelivered show posters! Marjorie was almost in tears again, frustrated with Buddy’s irresponsible behavior and lies. First the flowers and now this!
She dialed Ed’s number on her way out the door and left a message on his cell phone. He should cancel the camping trip and bring Buddy home tonight. They needed to talk about a serious problem.
She grabbed her things and hurried out the door, threw the posters in the back of the car and ran a couple of stop signs on her way to the show hall. The bunnies stepped in empty water dishes as the heat rose beneath the heavy tarpaulin covering their cages.
Saturday night
It was over. The show hall door closed behind the last spectator at 6:00 PM. The exhibitors took their lovely arrangements and the winners packed up their trophies. The show was a success, well attended by the public, in spite of no posters. Marjorie graciously congratulated the blue ribbon winners, believing her flowers were more beautiful, and felt only a twinge of self-pity as she shook their hands. The tables were taken down, the last tablecloth folded and the floor swept as she finally left the hall at 7:30, exhausted, but happy with the success of the show.
As she drove home, thinking of soaking in a hot bath, her smile froze. “The bunnies!” In her frustration this morning, she had forgotten to feed and water them. It had been unusually hot again today and she knew what could happen to a little bunny under a hot tarpaulin, with no water.
The car screeched around the corner, into the driveway. Marjorie grabbed a flashlight and ran into the backyard. The tarpaulin covered cages loomed against the garage wall. She tore the heavy tarpaulin off the cage and flashed her light into the cage. “Oh please, please.”
Tears rolled down her face as she lifted the soft, limp bodies from the cage and carried them into the house. Ed would help Buddy bury them in the backyard. Someday maybe they would get more bunnies, but tonight, there would be many tears and sorrow. She felt a lump in her throat, thinking of the painful hours ahead. Buddy’s lies and irresponsibility had become ripples that flowed out, beginning a sequence of events and now the consequences came full circle. It had cost him dearly. She hoped the terrible lesson would be worth the price they both had paid.
She stooped to pick up the box of bunnies, ready to face her son. She could hear Ed’s car pulling into the driveway.
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