What a Rabbit’s Struggle Taught Me About Family

If you ever get a chance to have a crocodile work on your teeth, I highly recommend it. I suppose you’d also want that crocodile to be a licensed dentist, but maybe that would be hard to find outside of my unique circumstances. Or maybe the laughing gas hasn’t fully worn off yet. Whatever the case, my mouth is happier than it’s been in ages.

I thanked Dr. Stone profusely as soon as the cotton packing was out of my mouth. I have no idea how long I was in the chair, but it felt dreamy the entire time. It wasn’t laughing gas he used, not exactly. I’m not totally clear on the mechanism, but magic was most definitely involved. I’ve had my share of dental work and never found it more than, at best, endurable. And while I wouldn’t call our time together pleasurable, I was able to completely relax while he worked. I think I even fell asleep.

“I’d like to see you back here in a week to check your bite,” he said, removing my paper bib and sitting me up. “And you’re way overdue for a cleaning.”

I nodded, all smiles. At least, I think I was smiling. The left side of my mouth was numb all the way back behind my ear, so it’s hard to know for sure. He handed me a little plastic bag with a new toothbrush, some dental floss, and a small tube of toothpaste.

“This is just like back home,” I said, my words a little muddled by the numbing. “Thank you so much.”

He smiled and nodded at Kelly.

“Call the office tomorrow and make a follow-up appointment,” he said.

As we were leaving, I noticed there was a book on the counter open to a diagram of a human mouth. Incredible. I didn’t think anything could spoil my mood as we walked out into the sunshine. Until I heard the gasp. I had forgotten to put my charm back on, and my hood was down.

A sheep in a green dress pushing a baby carriage was stopped cold on the sidewalk in front of us, eyes wide and mouth gaping. Kelly jumped into action.

“Madame,” Kelly said loudly, stepping in front of me and shooting a whisper behind a cupped hand, “put your charm on.”

I pulled my hood up and fumbled for the charm in my pocket, heart hammering so loud I was sure everyone on the sidewalk could hear. Meanwhile, Kelly was schmoozing the shocked sheep. She couldn’t stop staring at me, no matter what Kelly said to draw her attention. I finally got the charm out and struggled to clasp it around my neck, my anxious fingers shaking and clumsy. I finally got it fastened and looked up to see Kelly chatting amicably with the sheep as if nothing had happened. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just waited, taking deep, calming breaths.

“Good to see you again,” Kelly said, waving as the sheep turned her buggy around and headed down the sidewalk.

“You know her?” I asked, still a little shaken.

A group of geese passed us on the sidewalk and didn’t even look at me, which calmed me even more. The charm was clearly working.

“No,” Kelly said, shooting glances up and down the block. “Let’s get you some food. I bet you’re starving.”

Despite my lingering state of shock, I couldn’t argue with that. Kelly knew a place nearby, and we ducked in and ordered. Their sandwich menu was extensive, but I was still partially numb, so I settled for soup. Kelly ordered a veggie special, and we found a table.

“What happened back there?” I asked, “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing permanent,” Kelly said with a crooked smile.

Our food arrived before I could ask any more questions. I tried the soup carefully, testing it on both sides of my mouth. The absence of pain was so relieving that I ate too fast, slurping my soup in relieved excitement. I finally looked up from my bowl to see a small, ornate vial sitting on the table next to Kelly’s plate. It sparkled with more than just the sunshine streaming through the windows.

“What’s that?” I asked, my mouth still full of soup.

“That’s a little magic I drummed up,” Kelly said with a cocked eyebrow. “It can be dangerous roaming around the city with a human. One must be prepared.”

“What does it do?” I was fascinated. “Erase memories?”

“Nothing that fancy,” Kelly laughed. “It just redirects, not unlike your charm. She’ll likely think you were a daydream or a stray memory from a movie she saw. Most importantly, she won’t really think much about you at all.”

“That’s incredible,” I said, gently stroking the vial with one finger.

“Isn’t it?” Kelly said, sliding the vial off the table and stashing it away. “Eat up. We have more errands to run before we head home.”

Our next stop was the market. I’d been to farmer’s markets back home, but this was different. Animals with booths hawking wares and produce lined the cobblestone alley between the tall buildings. As I wandered through the stalls, I watched Kelly banter with the sellers and patrons, chatting about the vegetables or the weather or which fruit was the ripest. Even though I was there, the charm kept people from interacting with me. I was a moving void everyone looked around and past, but never at. It was what the charm was supposed to do, but it made for a strange kind of loneliness.

As we filled our basket, I noticed Kelly getting quieter. I hadn’t asked about the family troubles Brandon had mentioned. It’s an awkward thing to just bring up, but I wondered. We wrapped up our buying, and by the time we left, Kelly had grown quiet, barely thanking the last seller as they handed over a bag of tomatoes. We walked out of the market in silence, which is hard for me to maintain, even in the best circumstances.

“We heading home, then?” I asked, trying to sound chipper.

“Not yet,” Kelly said with a sigh. “There’s one more stop I’d like to make.”

I nodded, and we walked on. The only noise was the shuffle of vegetables in the basket I carried. We walked for a while, finally stopping under an overpass. There was a travel stop here, at the top of the stairs leading up from the Underground Line. They were all over the city, everywhere the UL stopped. I’d seen animals on their worn benches, waiting to meet someone or parting ways with friends or family. But this one was empty. Kelly sighed again.

“Are we waiting for someone?” I asked as Kelly sat down on the bench.

“No, not really,” Kelly said with another heavy sigh. “I wasn’t expecting him to be here.”

We sat for a little while longer. The train whooshed by below our feet, and a warm wind traveled up the stairs, smelling of track oil and other parts of the city.

“My brother doesn’t really live anywhere,” Kelly said, peering hard at the street. “He’s had a hard time and can’t seem to keep his head above water in all the ways you might imagine. I hear from him sometimes, and sometimes he says he’s tired of struggling and ready to come home. He even said he’d bought a ticket. But he hasn’t shown up yet.”

I looked at Kelly, unsure what to say.

“One of these days, he’ll come in on that train,” Kelly said, patting the bench and standing up. “But apparently not today.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, taking Kelly’s hand. “That has to be hard for you.”

Kelly nodded. “I wish I could help him, but I don’t even know where he is.”

I looked at Kelly’s drooping ears and wished that I could fix it, make it different somehow. I didn’t have siblings growing up and have always been acutely aware of that hole in my life. It never occurred to me that there could be drawbacks. Sometimes significant drawbacks.

“I wish there was something I could do,” I said as we walked.

Kelly seemed to perk up once the bench was out of sight.

“There is something you can do,” Kelly said, taking my arm. “You can get a pastry and a cup of tea with me at my favorite tea shop. It’s right around the corner, and it would cheer me up immensely.”

I agreed. It really was just around the corner, and Kelly smiled as we ducked into a little tea shop called the Kitten Caboodle. It was crowded, but we managed to order pastries and tea and shove ourselves into a tiny counter spot in the back. It was lovely. We chatted about the vegetables we’d bought and what kind of soup Kelly was planning to make when we got home—light things that brought some sparkle back into our conversation.

“Look at the time,” Kelly gasped. “We’re going to have to shake a tail feather if we’re going to make the next train across town.”

We laughed and edged our way out of the shop. As we were leaving, I happened to catch a glimpse of a kitten in a sweater enjoying tea in the front window. The kitten looked at me, really looked at me despite the charm, and I was sure it was the same kitten I saw on the way home from the police station. She blinked slowly at me and dipped her head. How I wish I could have stopped and talked to her. But we were already running late, and Kelly pushed me out the door and into the street. I vowed to myself that I would talk to her next time. Somehow, I was sure our paths would cross again.

-JPS