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Three
Bunny’s thoughts were a tumbleweed with nowhere to go when she stepped off an elevator across town and into the hallway that led to her apartment. There was so much about this space that should have been comforting. She’d lived here for the past seventeen years, and by now she could have navigated the narrow, overly beige shared space with her eyes closed. But today she needed them open. She needed all five senses firing on every cylinder to drown out the confusion in her brain. There was a void in her consciousness that had previously been filled by her mother’s living presence. She wondered why her mom had left her that voicemail. What had they needed to talk about?
She lifted a hand, clutching the moonstone pendant. As though someone had a remote for her brain, her thoughts switched channels. The face of the newborn baby girl from the hospital flashed into Bunny’s mind, her tiny blue eyes still mostly closed to the world that had delivered such a low blow. The channel changed again, and Bunny was confronted with the thought of her own hand, reaching for that medication cabinet.
Flooded with shame, she blinked and held her purse loosely in her left hand as she passed 5A. The door was old and pitted, multiple layers of paint giving it the look of a box covered in too much wrapping paper. It thudded in its frame, rattling in sync with the bass in the loud music the tenant always played. Bunny didn’t mind loud music—her own preference was death metal. She focused on the beat, imagining it as the heartbeat of apartment 5A, letting it suffocate her thoughts.
“Bunny? Are you okay?”
She jolted out of her thoughts, her eyes widening as she straightened and turned to the door across from 5A.
“Sorry!”
Fiona was her neighbor from across the hall. She had been single as long as Bunny could remember. She was quiet and generally kept to herself, except when she baked and decided to share the fruits of her labor with the people on their floor. Fiona was one of the sweetest people ever.
She was also glowing the same way the woman in the hospital had.
Only Fiona’s glow was a bright, incandescent white. It shimmered and pulsed, moving fluidly as Fiona frowned and then leaned closer.
“Bunny?”
She placed a gentle hand on Bunny’s shoulder. Upon contact, the moonstone Bunny wore gave off a tiny spark of static electricity. She watched the spark zip into the air, disappearing against the gray cotton of Fiona’s t-shirt.
What the actual fuck was happening? Bunny frowned before lifting her gaze to meet Fiona’s.
“I’m fine,” she lied, blinking her eyes to relieve the burning sensation that had taken up residence there.
Fiona nodded sympathetically. “Long night?”
Bunny wasn’t friendly enough with anyone in her building to tell them about what was going on in her personal life. Fiona didn’t know that today had consisted of her mother’s funeral and then a twelve-hour shift at the hospital. Fiona didn’t even know her mom had died.
“Understatement,” Bunny replied, shaking herself from her mental fog enough to offer her neighbor a wry smile, which she let slip. “Are you okay? Feeling… normal?”
“Okay I think,” Fiona laughed, relaxing now that Bunny apparently didn’t look as though she were about to pass out in the hall. “A little queasy this morning though. But I bet I’ll be fine by lunch. Just off to work.”
“Don’t let me keep you—have a good day,” Bunny said, waving as she and Fiona parted.
“You too!”
Bunny got to her apartment door and turned back to watch Fiona’s retreating form as she felt around in her purse for her keys. To Bunny’s dismay and concern, Fiona was still glowing as the elevator closed behind her.
* * *
“I’msure you understand why I asked to speak to you.”
Julian, the director of the hospital, worked in an office that tried—and failed—to look less sterile than an operating theater. As a former surgeon, Bunny supposed it made him feel more at home to be surrounded by stainless-steel furniture and curtains the same shade of blue as surgical scrubs. Wooden-framed portraits of his family adorned his white melamine desk, providing the only warmth and humanity the room had to offer.
Stepping into Julian’s office had always made Bunny feel like she was about to have her soul sucked right out of her.
“Actually, I don’t,” she admitted, reaching back to tuck her blonde hair into a messy bun. “I’m not due on shift for another two hours.”
Julian looked at her speculatively, eyes widening and then narrowing like the lens of a camera as he tried to home in on any kernel of truth in her answer. He seemed satisfied, for the moment, and leaned back in his stark black leather chair.
“I know you’ve had a lot on your plate since your mother passed,” he said. Inwardly, Bunny groaned. They had been beating this horse for weeks, and not matter how many times she said she was fine, thanks, they persisted in picking at the scab. “The hospital has done everything it can to help support you through this difficult time.”
“Yes.” Bunny shifted in her chair, ignoring the hard plastic edge that was biting into her back. “I’m really grateful.”
“Are you?”
