Young Adult Non-Fiction posted June 27, 2024

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1,400 words. Another Rabbit, Allen, and Roy adventure.

The Day Rabbit's Life Changed

by papa55mike

The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.

The three boys have been contentedly riding around Drexel Elementary School for the last hour. Roy had stolen two of his Father's cigarettes but neglected to get any matches. They've been begging everybody for a light with no luck. All while hearing, "You're too young to smoke!" from everyone they ask.

Rabbit leans back on The Tank and chuckles. "You two can't do anything right."

The optimist, Allen, says, "We'll get a light, Rabbit, you'll see. There's no point in you begging for a draw, either."

"And go home to Mom smelling like a cigarette. You might as well call the mortician. Why don't you rub two sticks together?"

Roy smarts off, "That's funny, Rabbit!"

Allen asks, "Doesn't your Mom have any matches?"

"If she does, they'd be in her purse, and I don't know of any in the house. Why don't you go to Schnieder's and buy a pack? Surely, one of you has a penny."

They both shake their heads no.

He smiles, "There are plenty of sticks under our Maple tree. I've got to go. Mom should be home shortly."

Rabbit turns The Tank around and heads up Drexel Avenue, with Roy and Allen close behind. They catch the light on green and glide across Third Street to Infirmary Road.

Since this is his last ride on The Tank until Monday, Rabbit thinks, I might as well visit Jack's Junkyard one last time. That's when he notices his Mom's car parked at Grandma and Grandpa's house. She must have got off work early. The Tank and Rabbit floats by Uncle Butch's house, which is next door, one with the moment. Until he hears Mom's car door slam like he's heard too many times before.

"That didn't last long." Rabbit's stomach turns while his heart wants to leap out of his chest. He forgot to wave at the guys at Jack's while turning for home and then sees Mom whip the old blue Ford out of one driveway, then fishtail into ours, two houses down.

"What have I done now?" Rabbit asks himself, pulling The Tank over and stopping at Grandpa's to figure out what's happening. About five agonizing minutes later, he hears his Mom bellow on the hotline, "Michael!" That yell might have made Main Street.

Slowly, Rabbit starts pedaling home. There's no use to rush to a beating. Roy and Allen stop short our driveway with stunned looks. Rabbit shrugs, saying, "I don't know," and turns in, taking the long way around to park The Tank.

His heart races when Rabbit opens the screen door and says, "Hi, Mom." She greets him with an open-handed slap that knocks him against the stove. He feels the welt rising on his cheek.

His Mom screams at him with ferocity, "Why didn't you come when I hollered?" She follows with another blow to Rabbit's face, causing his lip to bleed.

He's on his knees, trying to answer, "I started home when I heard you, Mom."

"I heard you've been dreaming again, Michael. I found your books along with those stupid stories you've been hiding. What's left of them lies scattered around your bedroom."

"Mom, I was just reading a book."

"You mean filling your mind with that science fiction crap and dreaming of a future that you'll never find. Because it will never exist, we're all bound to the stinking life we get!" She steps closer and hovers over him with a frightening look. Her face contorts, and her bloodshot blue eyes match her flaming red hair. "I told you before that I'd beat that dreaming out of you. I guess today is the day." She searches the room for a weapon and finds a long extension cord lying on the table, then wraps the middle around her hand. An evil rage appears on her face.

Rabbit scrambles backward on all fours into the living room and turns his back to her when the first blow strikes him across the face with the plug - breaking his glasses and cutting my forehead above my nose. A small pool of blood gathers quickly on the floor.

The beating continues at a furious pace, lash upon lash. The scene reminds Rabbit of The Hunchback on the pillary. Searing pain racks his body. There's no use in moving; it will only make it worse. Tears are pouring from his eyes with no sobs at all. Rabbit's mind begins to filter out some of the pain, but a deep sadness engulfs his soul. He sees that pit of despair opening again. He'll dive in soon.

With her rage finally consumed for the moment, she tosses the cord on his back and screams, "Now get to your room and clean up that mess."

"Yes, ma'am." Rabbit quietly answers while wiping the blood and tears from his eyes, then gathers his broken glasses.

"You better be done by the time I get back, or you'll get another beating just like that!" She slams the door behind her.

"I will." Rabbit can taste the blood running down his nose. It gathers at the corner of his mouth. Slowly, he starts to his room when the car jerks to life, slinging gravel against the house. Rabbit wonders where she goes after beating him, probably to the bar on the corner beside the Dollar Store.

Rabbit's body quakes with every step toward the open door, and he collapses to his knees when he sees the mess scattered throughout the room. Mom stripped the covers of every book and shredded everything. She even ripped every page from the notebooks and broke all his pencils. The weeping comes when he picks up the last few pages of Dandelion Wine. That's when Rabbit performs a perfect swan dive straight into that pit of despair.

Two hours later, he hears his Mom slam on the brakes while parking the car. The screen door slams and her footsteps lead to his room. Rabbit is staring out my window, watching the leaves dance on the trees in the sun. Basically, he's numb.

She asks, "I'm starting some supper. Do you want anything?"

Rabbit answers in a whisper, "No, ma'am. I'm not hungry." But he refuses to look at her.

She storms off, saying, "I guess my cooking isn't good enough."

It's almost midnight, and Rabbit listens to the crickets below the window while his Mom snores in her room.

Many thoughts have crossed his mind since this afternoon. They run the gambit from running away to killing himself. But none of them seem right.

Earlier, when he cleaned the blood off his face, he counted over thirty dark purple stripes across my back, with countless deep bruises. They were from the plugs at both ends of the cord. Rabbit still remembers the sound of the cord whistling through the air.

Who can he reach out to for help with his troubled thoughts? No one.

It's Sunday, and Rabbit is determined to spend every minute of this day doing something away from her. These simple tasks included pulling weeds along the house, checking the lawn mower, and raking the yard. His Mom finally walks down to Grandma's so Rabbit can turn off his defense mechanisms for a minute and take a deep breath.

Rabbit already misses his books. They were more than simple prose gathered in amazing collections. Their words brought hope to a generation of readers before him and countless more through the coming years. He still remembers how each one made him feel—the joy, fascination, hope, and most of all, the smiles they brought him in his troubled world. What's wrong with that?

His Mom is still gone, and Rabbit sits on the floor in the living room when he hears two bikes stop by the screen door. A voice whispers, "Rabbit, are you there?"

"Go away before you get me in trouble, Allen!"

Roy says, "We found out what happened."

Rabbit asks, "What are you two talking about?"

Allen explains, "Your Mom was having coffee with your Grandma when Mrs. Forrest walked in, thanking them for all you did with her Grandson. Including all of the books you read together. They both saw the rage build in your Mom's eyes."

"Dear, Lord. That's what I get for being a good friend. Now, please leave before you get me in trouble again. My sentence will be through in a month. I'll see you then."

Roy says, "Goodbye, Rabbit." The sound of their bikes drifts away.

Rabbit dives even deeper into that pit.

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Recognized

In all fairness, times were different in 1968. You could beat your child in the middle of any store with no problem, and a few people would root for you. Now, if you raise your voice to a child in Walmart, security will follow you all around the store. But I don't give Mom a pass for what happened. Our relationship completely changed after that day. I'll write more about that later. She never deterred my reading and writing. I just hid it better.

The ideas for these stories must have come to me after a visit from my brother John last June. We talked a little about Mom and the beating with the extension cord. He remembered standing there helpless while it happened. I think he was five or six.

Many thanks for stopping by to read!
Have a great day, and God bless.
mike

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