Chapter 17

“I’m still surprised that this sold for so cheap,” Edith says, turning the pendant back and forth in her hands.

“Some things seems to sell for less, some higher,” Exie says. “In an auction one never knows where the price is going to go.”

“Well I’m just glad I got it,” the girl says. “I’m thinking that it’s the perfect gift for my roommate, Mora.”

“It would make a nice gift,” Exie says. “Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. If you will excuse me I’ve got to get this closed up so I can meet with my girlfriend.”

“Yes, I’m sorry to hold you up,” Edith says.

“It’s not a problem, she’s running late too. I just want to have time to go pick up her Christmas present,” Exie explains.

With her account settled, Edith takes the pendant home. She and Mora have been roommates for just over two years now. This is actually their second Christmas now and she wanted to give Mora the prefect gif to say thank you. She prepared to spend a lot more than she did, but tonight must have been the night for her because she got it for dirt cheap and with only one other person bidding on it against her.

She parks outside the apartment building and sighs. It isn’t fancy or anything, but it is home. It’s what she can afford. In fact it’s what Mora can afford too, though neither of them could afford it alone. This is the second year she hasn’t gone home for the holidays too. Edith and her parents haven’t really gotten along in the last few years. She left for college and then dropped out. That put a strain between her and her parents and it has only been small chit chats over the phone whenever they talked to each other. She thought about going back this year, having missed seeing all the lights and decorations that her father usually hangs up.

With a heavy sigh, she gets out of the car. There is always next year she had reasoned a few weeks back. Once Edith is set on something, she stays committed to it. School wasn’t one of those somethings. She sticks the key in the door, but before she can turn it the door opens.

“Um ... Mom... ?” she says, surprised to see her mother standing there.

“Yes, it’s me,” her mother says.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to scoop you up for Christmas,” the woman says.

“But it’s Christmas Eve,” Edith complains.

“It’s never too late,” her mother says. “Are you waiting on an invite? Come in, this is your place.” Edith follows the woman inside, saying hi to Mora. “I packed you bags for a few days. I figured you’ll probably want to leave pretty quickly after the holidays.”

“I didn’t even agree to go,” Edith protests.

“Alright, I confess I got eager,” her mother says. “I actually just came here to see you, but when Mora said how you talked about how much you missed us I just got excited and packed you up.”

Edith casts a glare at her roommate. “You didn’t...”

Mora shrugs. “Shit, Edith...” she says. “We were talking and I just thought about how I wish my parents were still here, especially at Christmas, and you know...”

“It’s fine, Mora,” the girl says, sighing. “I can only assume to know how you feel. Time is short after all.”

“So does this mean I’m off the hook?” Mora asks.

Edith nods and gives her a smile.

“Does this mean you’re coming home?” her mother asks.

Edith turns to regard her. Pushing aside her stubbornness she cannot take the smile off her face and she nods at her too. “Yes, I’m coming home.”

Edith gets to chatting with her mother as they get ready to leave. During this time Mora tells her roommate how she is slipping out for the evening with a friend she met recently. They offer for the girl to come with them, but Mora gives the excuse that she’ll probably be busy with that friend all day on Christmas. Edith has forgotten all about the pendant until they are headed out to her mother’s car. By then it is too late to give it to Mora. She figures that if anything, she’ll just give it to her when she gets back. At least that way she’ll have time to wrap it up properly.

“Well, are you going to come in?” her mother asks, standing in the doorway of the house. “This is still your home, you know.”

But when Edith steps in inside and looks around, she knows that it isn’t anymore. She grew up in this house, but it just feels so different now. The odors of her apartment that she is used to are gone, replaced by ones now unfamiliar.

“We’ve missed you,” her mother says. “Talking occasionally on the phone has been stressful. Two years has been too long.”

“I know...” Edith says feeling a little flushed. Going to college was supposed to be great, but it just wasn’t for her. She never expected the fallout that came with leaving.

“My little girl is all grown up,” her mother continues. “I guess it was up to you to make your own choices.”

“I’m not a baby anymore,” the girl spats. Her mother ignores the small outburst. The last thing she wants to do is ruin this homecoming, especially with Christmas happening tomorrow. “Where am I sleeping?” Edith asks.

“In your room,” her mother answers.

“You mean you didn’t turn it into a sewing room?”

Her mother laughs lightly. “No, your father turned part of the basement into one for me.”

“I’m surprised he gave up part of the basement,” Edith growls.

“I didn’t want to take your room,” the woman explains. “I guess leaving it like it is kind of made me think you were still here or would maybe come back.”

Edith’s lips quirk a little. “I’m only staying for Christmas. I’ve got to get back the day after so I can go to work. I do have bills and rent.”

“I know, dear,” her mother says, rolling her eyes. “I’ll get you back in time for work.”

They head down the hall, Edith carrying her backpack and small suitcase. Both are packed to the brim as if she were staying for a week or more. Hell, she hadn’t planned to be here for a day much less any longer. If she had time to prepare for this or had even been home when her mother arrived, she sure as hell wouldn’t be here now.

The room is exactly how she left it. All her posters are still in the same places. Her books are still on the bookshelves. Her bed is only partially made just as she had left it the day she left for college. Perched amid the mess of pillows, gazing back at her with sleepy, half-lidded eyes is...

“Everything is the same,” her mother says. “Even Butterscotch is still right where you left him. You haven’t forgotten about him, have you?”

“How could I?” Edith groans. “I tried to throw him away.”

“Oh Edith,” her mother laughs. “You loved that rabbit. When you were a little girl, you couldn’t do anything or go anywhere without him.”

“Yeah...” she sighs.

“I put him through the wash,” the woman continues.

“Then he isn’t where I left him,” the girl says sarcastically.

“Well, no,” her mother confesses. “I suppose he isn’t.”

“Butterscotch...” Edith whispers.

The rabbit just sits there, gazing at her with its strange, sleepy eyes. It is the expression of the thing that had eventually began to bug her. Those eyes—half-closed like that—shifting to the side like the eyes of a dirty old man that just sits and watches young girls passing by. Then there is the way the rabbit’s tongue pokes out too—a soft pink flap sitting off to the side of his big vinyl buck teeth. Sure, she liked him as a little girl, but when she got older as a teenager he just unnerved her. Butterscotch’s fur is fuzzy and obviously the color of butterscotch. The insides of his long ears are yellow. His belly is only a slightly lighter color from the rest of him. The puffy tail matches the color of his belly. The pads on his paws and the bottoms of his feet are the same color as the top of his fur.

For a second, as Edith sits there looking at the little stuffed toy, she feels a slight wave of dizziness. And for just a moment she swears she sees something jutting up from between his legs that had never been there before now. A shiver twists up her spine. She has to look away from those sleepy, but somehow lewd and accusing eyes and the thing between his legs. But she cannot look away for long. When she does look back, whatever was there between those furry thighs is gone.

“You unpack and get settled in,” her mother says. “We should start to have my sister and her family coming over soon. Your dad is working a little late today, but his parents are coming over too.”

“Sure,” Edith says.

Her mother leaves and Edith just stays standing in the middle of the room that was hers—is hers still—but no longer feels familiar at all. She has grown up and changed, but how much? Her eyes cut over to the mirror to catch a reflection of herself. No, she is no longer that little girl. She is a woman now and one that her mother obviously cannot seem to accept still. Who knows what her father is going to say because he most likely doesn’t know she is home. At least her grandparents aren’t judgmental. They were the only ones on her side when she told them that she was quitting college. And there ... behind her in the mirror ... is Butterscotch. The angle of his head and the shift of his eyes make her look like he is checking her out.

That rabbit. That fucking creepy rabbit...

She had been crazy about Butterscotch when she was little. She didn’t need her mother reminding her of that. And now, here he is again. His colors are a little faded, but he is still the same. Time changes things, it did her. So why would Butterscotch be any different?

Butterscotch. Fucking Butterscotch...

“What the fuck are you looking at?” she asks. “Don’t give me that look. What was I going to do, take my little bunny rabbit to college with me? Give me a fucking break.”

Still, the accusing look is there. Then, like an echo from the past she seems to hear herself...

‘I love you, Butterscotch. I’ll never leave you. Never, I promise.’

“Give me a fucking break,” she says again. “I was a little girl with no concept of what the world is really like.” His plastic eyes gaze fixedly at her, but not her face. He is staring at her chest. With her shirt so tight, the viewing is probably a great sight. “Get a grip,” she tells herself. “He’s a stuffed toy for fuck’s sake.”

She goes over to the bed and drops her backpack and suitcase into the middle of the ruffled bedspread. The mattress dips under the weight and Butterscotch topples over onto his face. His faded puff of a tail stick up in the air. The closet and drawers are fairly empty. Edith had taken the majority of her clothes with her to college. She left some behind so that she would have clean clothes when she came back to visit. She was definitely a different person then, so naïve!

Her shoulder bumps the mattress as she is down on her hands and knees, shoving her suitcase far under the bed as she can. Why unpack, she’s just going to be leaving the day after tomorrow. When the mattress shakes, something soft and floppy tumbles over the edge and lands on her back. A long brownish and yellow ear slaps limply over her shoulder. Edith jerks and recoils. Butterscotch rolls to the floor and lays there, legs and ear splayed to compass points, paws open. She feels that same wave of dizziness again, and when she looks there is something between his legs. The tip of it is angled up toward her, braced against his low belly.

“Is that a ... dick... ?” Edith surprises herself by saying the words aloud. It’s the stress, it has to be.

It’s no wonder she started thinking that there was something creepy about the stuffed toy. Some part of her mind recognized the lecher’s leer and the protruding tongue... the dick is not real ... long before any conscious part of her realized it. And the bunny’s expression, now that she really takes a good look, is almost like many of the men she has fucked right before they orgasm. She snorts and laughs, bending over to pick the toy up. The pendant around her neck sways and glows faintly. His fur is cool and soft in her hand. She is reminded of how she used to cuddle her face against him and inhale the smell of the butterscotch.

He dangles from her grip, feet swinging and that disturbingly erect cock swaying. She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut. When Edith had become a teenager, hitting puberty, she deemed herself too old for toys. She had gotten rid of most of them, but for some reason she couldn’t part with the rabbit. He was instead stuffed on one of her bookshelves rather than the pillow. It wasn’t until she had packed for college that she decided that it was time for him to go.

Before then she would take him down from the shelf to try and get some comfort out of him. She had trouble sleeping the closer she got to graduating and moving off to college. Just the thought of being so far from home, a place she had never left was daunting enough. But the thoughts of the work and being able to handle it, of having to work somewhere she didn’t want to should she fail, and most of all, having to face life on her own. Those were the nights she had resorted to childhood comforts and taken Butterscotch off the shelf to cuddle with him.