Bunny Finds a Friend

by Hazel Yeats

  “Will that be okay, though,” she said, eyeing Jude innocently, “with your longtime partner?”

  Jude stared at her for a second. “With my…what?”

  Cara shrugged. “It’s just that I read on your website that you live in the Hollywood Hills with your partner and two dogs.”

  “Wow.” Jude chortled, which made Cara feel like a three-year-old. “You learned the whole page by heart?”

  “No,” Cara said, “just that particular bit.”

  “So?”

  “Nothing.” Cara shrugged. “I know you live in the Netherlands part of the year. And I was just wondering if your…you know…man, or husband, will be picking you up and joining us for…well…whatever it is we’ll be having.” Her heart was pounding in her chest. “That would be fun, I suppose. To meet him.”

  She blushed. She hated herself.

  “Right,” said Jude. “The thing is, the information on the website regarding my situation is a little outdated.” She cleared her throat. “Things…“ Her voice trailed off.

  “What?”

  She flinched. “This isn’t something I want to get into right now, okay? Let’s go with the simple version and say that things changed.”

  “Okay, sure.” Cara nodded. “Things changed. They always do, don’t they? Usually when you least want them to.”

  “I left California when my marriage ended,” Jude said simply. “It’s no secret. It’s just not public knowledge.”

  And yet, Cara thought, my sister knew all about it.

  “Laurie and I split up and I needed a change of pace,” Jude continued. “New horizons, that sort of thing.” She smiled. “Turned out that your horizon was the prettiest of them all. It’s the light, you see. At dusk. It’s captivating.”

  Cara couldn’t focus on this most romantic of revelations the way she might have done, being a fan of the dusk herself. Her focus was on something else. A name that made her head spin. Laurie! Not John, not Brad, not Michael. Laurie! And not just any Laurie—a Laurie she had left.

  And that was all they had time for.

  “Ladies,” Mrs. Beldam shouted. “In three, two, one!”

  She opened the door and there they were, dozens of screaming, stampeding children who almost knocked her flat.

  Cara wasn’t prepared for what happened next. She thought they’d all be storming toward Jude, but as it turned out, it wasn’t Jude they were after at all. They were far more interested in Bunny, their adorable furry idol, than in the author who had brought that furry idol to life. They threw themselves at Cara. She tried to remember feverishly what exactly it was that bunnies do. She needed some kind of act here, something to give them their money’s worth. The only bunny she’d ever known was Konijn, the pet rabbit she’d had as a child—and all he did was twitch his nose and hop. Hop! She crouched down and gave it a go, not just the hopping, but even the twitching of the nose. The kids went crazy. They shoved carrots in her face, which she took between her teeth and started munching on. The bravest ones among them climbed on her back. They stroked her fur. They played with her ears. They gave her presents and drawings. She thanked them and admired their art in a falsetto voice—hoping she would sound like what these kids might imagine Bunny to sound like.

  They loved her. They had a blast. And so did she.

  Every time she managed to come up for air, she’d steal a glance at Jude, who was watching her from a distance. She liked what she read on Jude’s face. It made her try even harder to do her proud.

  By the time Cara finally calmed the little fans down and it was time for Jude to start reading, they were exhausted. They sat on the floor in a half circle, close to Jude’s chair, and all the while, they listened speechlessly, many with their mouths open—you could hear a pin drop. Mrs. Beldam went wild with her little camera.

  Hours later, when peace had finally returned to the little bookstore and Cara was once again dressed like a human being, Mrs. Beldam practically pushed Cara and Jude out the door.

  “But…this!” Cara protested, pointing to the battlefield the young visitors had left behind.

  “This will be just fine,” Mrs. Beldam assured her. “Someone’s coming over later to help me, okay?” She nudged them toward the exit. “Now you two kids run along. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than to hang around here.” She looked at them almost lovingly.

  Am I crazy, Cara thought, slightly amused, or does Mrs. Beldam know exactly what’s going on here?

  The streets were quieter now, the sun had set, leaving a faint pink glow on the horizon. They were walking side by side, until Jude stopped and extended her hand. “I’m Jude, by the way.”

  Cara placed her hand in Jude’s, purposefully holding it a little too long. ”I’m Cara.”

  “Yes,” Jude said, “Cara. Of course. I’ve come up with a hundred names in my head, and not one seemed to be right for you. Cara is perfect.”

  Cara became a little light headed. Jude had thought about her long enough to come up with a hundred names for her?

  “The name is very rare in the Netherlands,” she said. “My grandmothers were called Carolina and Rachel—my parents decided to get a little creative.”

  “Then I guess I was wrong,” Jude said. “It thought it was Irish. It makes me think of clover and green pastures.”

  Cara shrugged. “There’s no reason why it can’t now.”

  The night was cool and crisp. Cara felt, or maybe more imagined, that there was a touch of spring in the air, even though it was only February. The darkness had felt different these past nights, thinner almost, as if it were already beginning to surrender to a force it was bound to succumb to.

  “I like walking through the city at night,” Jude said. “I need to unwind after a day like this. I enjoy it, but it’s exhausting.”

  Cara nodded. She was quite happy to have Jude to herself, to walk by her side. She stole a glance at her from time to time, hoping to be inconspicuous. Maybe it was the fact that she was dealing with a celebrity that made her cautious where she was used to being bold. It still wasn’t 100 percent clear to her what was going on here. Jude had flirted with and wanted to work with her, and she admitted to having thought about her. But that wasn’t enough for Cara to make out whether this was some sort of date or a simple stroll with a friendly stranger.

  She put her hands in the pockets of her coat. “Me too,” she said. “I like it too.”

  They walked in the direction of the Herengracht. Jude’s pace was brisk. She struck Cara as that cliché of the active, outdoorsy person she had always admired but had never been able to become. She’d had this image of Jude’s life, the life of a famous writer residing in the Hollywood Hills with a partner, dogs, horses maybe. Cara’s mind had constructed a detailed picture—the Tudor-style house, the massive study where Jude worked, the walls lined with bookcases, elaborate chandeliers decorating the high ceiling. She had imagined Jude and her partner going on long hikes, entertaining guests, spending their evenings on the impressive porch, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains. The picture was probably inaccurate. She had never actually been to California, and what she knew about Californian homes was what she’d seen on television. It didn’t matter now, anyway, since Jude was obviously more impressed by the narrow streets and canals of Amsterdam than she was by the impressive mountains in her own land.

  And yet, it didn’t feel as though it had made her any less unattainable. She’d felt so close to her at the bookstore, but now, Cara was afraid she’d fallen into that old trap of reading too much into things that were really quite innocent. It was a thing with her. She tended to fall too hard, too soon. It was how she set herself up for disappointments. Even now that she was here, walking right by her side, Jude seemed as elusive as ever.

  Or was she?

  They turned to each other at the exact same moment. Their eyes loc
ked, then Jude looked away. Cara took a deep breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Jude asked, slowing down.

  “Nothing,” Cara said. She felt like a sixteen-year-old at a school dance, hiding a crush on a hot girl, wondering if life would ever become simple.

  “Tell me, okay?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  Jude stopped abruptly. Cara nearly collided with her.

  “Trust me,” Jude said. “I do.”

  Cara started walking again—she wanted to take Jude to the crossing of the Reguliergsgracht and the Herengracht to show her the spot where you could see fifteen bridges over the canals in one fell swoop. At this time of night, the bridges were illuminated, making it one of the most romantic spots in the city.

  The moon had come out from behind the clouds, bathing everything in a pale, bluish light. Cara shivered. There was a promise to the night that made her soar. She was no stranger to this feeling, and she had always made the most of it, but tonight, she had no idea what to do about it.

  “I’m not the most steady person in the world,” she said, as Jude caught up with her.

  “So?”

  “I’ve fucked up every relationship I ever had.”

  Jude seemed to give this some thought. “Maybe,” she said finally, “you’ve just never been with the right person.”

  “Can I be honest?”

  Jude nodded. “Sure.”

  Cara stopped in her tracks in the middle of the bridge from where she was dying to show Jude the view. “First, I want to show you something,” she said. They turned to the water and Cara pointed to the six arched bridges in a row, and then to the other six, and then to the left, where there were two more. “The bridge we’re standing on is the fifteenth,” she said. “Have you ever seen this before?”

  Jude shook her head. “I can’t believe this city,” she said. “I felt as though I was walking through some kind of fairytale the first time I came here. The atmosphere is so overwhelming, so different from anything I have ever known. I fell in love as soon as I had taken my first stroll.”

  As they both turned around, leaning against the iron railing of the bridge, the carillon of Westerkerk began to chime, as if to emphasize the city’s allure.

  “You were going to be honest,” Jude reminded Cara. She looked at her expectantly.

  Cara realized that Jude was cold. Her face was paler now, and she was shivering as she put her hands in the pockets of her coat. Cara wished she was brave enough to take them into her own pockets and keep them warm there. But she was shy. There were all these people here—day and night, there were people here—there was traffic, there was noise, there were the bells of streetcars and churches ringing, and the carillon chiming, and the canalboats whispering. There were what seemed like a million people on bicycles passing by.

  “I’ve been trying to find you for a reason,” she said.

  “To apologize, right?” Jude’s mocking smile was back.

  “You really enjoy torturing me, don’t you?”

  “You make it so easy,” Jude said. “But I’ll have mercy on you, okay? Let me help you out here. You were trying to find me, because you felt the same thing I did that day at the store. That while we were arguing, there was something there, beneath the surface, something that was warm and tingly and that might be worth exploring.”

  Cara nodded.

  “So what can we do about that?”

  Cara shrugged.

  “Cara,” Jude said. “Come on. I’m sure we can think of something.”

  Jude made a half turn. Now they were face to face. She pushed her body gently against Cara’s, leaving no doubt as to her intentions.

  “We’re standing on an illuminated bridge,” Cara said. She giggled, both nervous and amused.

  “So?” Jude said. “This is Amsterdam, remember? Anything goes. Light is good.”

  Cara put her hands on Jude’s hips, but she couldn’t actually feel anything through the fabric of Jude’s quilted coat. Jude, being bolder, stroked Cara’s hair, her hand lingering on her neck, on her jaw. Then she moved her hand toward Cara’s mouth and slowly ran a thumb across her lips. Cara forgot to breathe. Jude moved her hand away, then she took both Cara’s hands in hers and held them. She looked at them, brought them to her face, kissed the wrists, kissed the fingers, and intertwined them with her own. Jude seemed to want to touch every piece of exposed skin she could find. Cara had never felt so desirable. She looked into Jude’s eyes. They were darker now. She knew what that meant, and she thought it best not to move, not to speak.

  Jude pushed herself against Cara with more force, and then boldly started kissing her. Cara, taken by surprise at the depth of this first kiss, felt her knees start to give out. There was no careful planning, no getting to know a new, strange mouth—Jude’s kiss was a complete surrender; slow, sensual and deep. Cara felt as though she’d been standing in the cold for a lifetime and was now sinking down on a soft bed, covered by the warmest, fluffiest quilt she had ever felt. She reached out her arms, but Jude took her wrists and pinned her hands on the railing of the bridge, resting them on the cold metal. At the same time, she ground her hips against Cara’s. All the while, she never broke the kiss. Cara was rendered motionless, and she relished in the feeling of having no choice but to meet Jude’s hungry mouth and to make love to it.

  All thoughts were pushed to the background as her body took over and silenced her mind. When they finally came up for air, Cara blinked, wondering if what she saw was true—that the world had taken on a new, brighter color. People were walking and cycling over the bridge, but nobody paid any attention to them. Perhaps, seeing two women make out in one of the busiest spots in the city was something they were quite accustomed to, and completely comfortable with.

  “Jesus,” Cara said. “Ever hear of spontaneous human combustion?”

  She looked out over the water, trying to catch her breath. A canalboat appeared from under the bridge. A man waved at her from inside. He seemed to have a camera in his hand. She briefly wondered what her sisters would think if they saw her on YouTube tonight, making out with Jude in public. She turned around, leaning against the bridge for support. An elderly woman in a bright-yellow coat scurried past them, eying them suspiciously. Jude tipped an imaginary hat to her. Then she turned back to Cara and smiled.

  “I take it you going up in flames would be a good sign?”

  Cara nodded. “I’ve never done this in public with a famous writer before.”

  Jude took a bow. “I’m proud to be your first one.”

  Cara wrapped her arms around Jude’s neck, pulled her close, and initiated the next kiss. If anything, this one was even better, their embrace making it more intimate. Cara was used to showing a little restraint when she kissed a woman for the first time, getting to know her style. With Jude, the word restraint seemed to have disappeared from the dictionary. Not only did Cara not want to show any, she found herself unable to—it was impossible to not surrender to this most sensual of feelings. Kissing Jude was much more than kissing Jude, Cara realized. It was also more than a prelude to sex. It was sex, some kind of miniature version of it. It was feeling what their mouths were doing resonate in her entire body—tingling, pounding, throbbing. And it was no different for Jude, for as Cara felt her arousal build within her, she knew, through her sounds, through the way she moved, that Jude’s was building in sync with her own.

  But when she felt Jude’s knee gently trying to part her legs, her head suddenly became clear. She realized that if she didn’t put a stop to this right now, things would get horribly out of hand. She pulled back. Abruptly. Jude kept leaning into her, her head on Cara’s shoulder. Cara, hearing Jude’s ragged breathing so very close to her ear, fought to keep her self-control, the urge to kiss Jude again almost impossible to resist.

  “What’s wrong?” Jude said, panting.

 
“I want to do this more than anything,” Cara whispered in her ear. “But not here.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jude said. The spell was broken. She lifted her head off Cara’s shoulder and stepped back. She brushed off her coat and ran a hand through her hair. “Me neither,” she said, shaking her head. “Making out in public is cheap and tacky.” She apologized again. “I got carried away.” She reached out her hand and tenderly ran a finger across Cara’s cheek. “You’re just so very—” She made a sound that was halfway between a moan and a growl.

  Cara tried to imitate the sound, and then they laughed together. Cara thought she had never seen anyone look at her quite so lovingly before.

  “We need to get out of the cold,” she said. “My apartment isn’t far.”

  Jude shook her head. “Let’s just walk, okay?“ She was blowing on her hands—the temperature was dropping.

  Cara followed her down the bridge, less than tempted to spend more time outside. “Why?” she said. “My apartment is near. It’s also warm.” But she followed Jude anyway.

  “My own apartment is actually near here, too,” Jude said. “The location is not the point. And while your offer is more than tempting, I think I’ll decline.”

  Cara’s heart sank. She declined? After what just happened? Was she a horrible kisser? Was there someone else? Was it a mistake? And if it was, would she ever recover?

  “You don’t want to.” She sounded exactly the way she felt—devastated.

  “On the contrary,” Jude said. “There’s nothing I want more right now than for you to take me home and continue what we started.” Her eyes were gentle as she looked at Cara. “But as someone who fucked up every relationship she ever had, maybe you should begin this in style.”

  Cara grinned. “Hasn’t that ship sort of sailed?”

  “I mean,” Jude said, punching her affectionately, “from now on.”

  Cara nodded. “Maybe. So what are you suggesting?”

  “Let’s do this right,” Jude said. “Let’s go on an official date.”