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“Are you crying?”
Becky hears a sniff from the pile of blankets and stuffed animals next to her.
“No.”
A pause. She waits.
“Maybe.”
Carefully peeling away the top of the blanket, Becky coos softly at Freen. “Oh, baby. You don’t have to hide your crying.” She wipes away the moisture from the other woman’s cheeks. “It’s a good movie, isn’t it?”
She waits as her best friend slowly blows her nose and emerges from the mountain. The used tissue lands on the coffee table in front of them.
“I liked it. I understand why it’s your comfort film.” Freen sighs, rubbing her eyes clumsily. “I wasn’t prepared to cry at 10am, but I guess I needed it.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“S’okay.” The older girl leans her head on her shoulder and sniffs the last of her runny nose away. “I didn’t expect a children’s movie to make me feel so much.”
“That’s the power of Winnie-the-Pooh.”
It’s their day off, and they’ve holed themselves up in Freen’s condo. The topic of conversation meandered from upcoming Easter celebrations (Becky’s family celebrated, but Freen’s family did not) to the Easter Bunny (which Freen found amusing, since bunnies don’t even lay eggs), to Rabbit from Winnie-the-Pooh (Freen didn’t know who he was). And that is how they wound up watching the 1977 film about stuffed animals.
Becky kisses Freen’s temple. She searches for another topic of conversation, not wanting to dwell on tears. Her mind hands her one, thankfully.
“P’Freen, have you ever been to a rabbit cafe?”
The other girl snorts. “Eh? No. Why, do you want to go to one?”
“Only if you want to. I think there’s one half an hour away.”
Freen thinks, but not for long. “Let’s do it.”
Becky jumps from the couch and whoops loudly. She loves when they go on impromptu outings. Freen prefers when things are planned, but the younger girl has been teaching her to throw away the itinerary sometimes.
They quickly change into outdoor clothes, folding up their indoor clothes for when they return. No dresses or suits today; not even any makeup. Instead, they wear each other’s flannels and joggers. The theme of the day is casual. The look is completed with glasses, masks, baseball caps, and sneakers. Hopefully the paps have fucked off somewhere.
In no time, they’re buckled safely into Freen’s car. Becky takes control of the music and plays her playlist of low-intensity but high-mood songs. They grin at each other as the speakers pipe the music into the car.
The sky above is slightly overcast, which Becky is glad for. The cloud cover lowers the temperature from the usual hot to a more manageable balmy.
They find parking relatively easily and walk the rest of the way, coming to a stop before a brightly pastel storefront. They turn to each other with matching eyebrow-raises of anticipation. Upon entry, the deliciously dark smell of roasted coffee beans wafts through their masks and into their noses. And then they see the main attraction.
On the other side of the building, separated by a glass wall, are the rabbits. Plump and happy, chomping away at leafy greens and hay, equipped with comically large teeth and ears, they are amusing to watch.
Becky giggles as Freen’s eyes grow so wide, they look like cue balls. “C’mon, let’s order our drinks first.”
“Uh-huh.” Freen lets herself be dragged to a table, neck still craning in the direction of the creatures. A young waiter comes up to them, explaining popular menu choices, and after they order, the rabbits.
“All of these rabbits come from a local adoption center. If you wish to adopt one of these fine fellows, we can connect you with someone who can help you with the paperwork! Otherwise, please pet them! They love getting attention.”
Freen wiggles her brows and nudges her shoulder. “Does that sound like anyone, BB?”
“Shut up, darling.” Under her mask, she’s smiling hopelessly, but she attempts to make her eyebrows frowny. Since they were asked about clinginess and attention-seeking behavior in a past interview, the older woman makes it a point to gently tease her. She does her best to pretend that she is offended at the mere suggestion that she is like the rabbits. Based on the waiter’s reaction, it doesn’t work.
She laughs at the two of them bickering. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
They observe the bunnies interacting with other patrons curiously, idly pointing out which ones they want to cuddle. The rabbits come in all sorts of shapes and sizes and colors. Some stretch lazily out on top of tile panels set up near their litter boxes, while others zoom around on the hardwood.
The waiter returns with their order. Freen, ever the sensible one, had ordered a simple hot matcha latte. Becky, on the other hand, had ordered a raspberry-orange-chocolate milkshake. After thanking the young waiter, they take a cautious sip of their drinks.
“Mm, this is good. How’s yours?” Freen raises her eyebrows.
Becky sighs appreciatively and gives her a thumbs-up. “It tastes great. Switch?”
As usual, whenever they order drinks, they try each other’s choice. Sometimes, they don’t like it; sometimes, they like it enough to keep trading drinks. Today, it is the former situation.
“What the hell—this tastes like grass!” Becky gags with her tongue out. Every time Freen orders matcha, she thinks it will taste good. Every time she tries it, she gets a mouthful of grass. She never learns.
“Ugh, this is pure sugar.” Freen coughs as she chokes down her sip of Becky’s milkshake. Her nose wrinkles.
So, after one sip, they return the drinks to their original owner. Becky washes out the disgusting taste of the matcha with her milkshake. While she relaxes her face, she tangles her fingers amongst her best friend’s. It’s not Freen’s fault that she hates matcha. She won’t punish Freen for having a different preference.
Soon, their straws start making the telltale empty sucking noise. They tip the cups up, draining every drop of delectable liquid. Usually, they take the time, savoring their drinks. But the chomping critters in front of them serve as an incentive to hurry up, finish quickly.
After disposing of their drinks and thanking the waiter for her service, they walk into the playpen area. Immediately, a dark grey rabbit hops up to them. They are small and energetic, pink nose twitching in the air. With a head tilt, the nametag jingles on the collar.
“Hi, Earl.” Becky kneels down and presents her hand to the rabbit. He sniffs the hand, then nuzzles it. She takes that as permission to scritch the soft fur around the neck and head. “P’Freen, come join!”
The older girl is still standing, warily staring down at the balls of fur scattered around the room. Now that she’s up close and personal with the rabbits, she seems to be less enthusiastic about the petting portion of the visit. But with Becky gently coaxing her, she sinks down to her knees and watches as a white bunny with black spots hops up to her.
“Hi… Cookie, how are you today?” Freen checks the bunny’s nametag. She copies Becky’s movements from earlier, extending a cautious hand for the rabbit to sniff. Cookie rubs her face against her hand and chirps softly.
Freen looks up at Becky with wide eyes. “What do I do now?”
“Give her some love, baby.” She chuckles and guides the other woman’s hand to pet the young rabbit gently on the head. Cookie preens and rubs against Freen’s thigh.
A large, happy grin spreads slowly across Freen’s face. Her eyes crinkle up and her laugh floats in the air like a gossamer. Becky smiles in response without even thinking. She quickly whips out her phone and snaps some photos of her friend babying the rabbit by her side. It’s fun to see the older girl’s serious personality open up.
Freen usually keeps her cards close to her chest in public spaces, but with Becky her shoulders lower, her jaw relaxes, and her temples smoothen. Lately, she’s been stepping out of her Introvert comfort zone to do things with the younger woman. It’s a relatively small thing, but to Becky it’s everything.
She asks an attendant walking by if they could take a photo of the two of them cuddling the rabbits. Handing over the phone and settling next to Freen, the two women pose and laugh when Earl hops clumsily into Becky’s lap (and her heart).
“Hey, babe?” A quote from Winnie-the-Pooh surfaced in her mind.
“Hm?”
“Any day spent with you is my favorite day. So today is my new favorite day.” She smiles at the taller girl and leans in to touch her blushing cheek with her nose. “Thank you for spending time with me.”
Freen rolls her eyes like she always does when Becky says something greasy. “Shut up,” she says with no heat.
Finally, when they have had their fill of adorable animals, they brush themselves off, take the last few photos, and make their leave. Becky sighs as they walk outside. “That was fun.”
Freen yawns, nodding. “Yeah. Thank you for suggesting, BB.” She weaves a loose arm around Becky’s neck. “Let’s go home.”
Later, when they are back in their indoor clothes and have retired to Freen’s warm and comfortable bed, another quote comes to mind. Becky nudges the other girl’s leg with her foot, who looks up from her book quizzically.
“I just remembered. One of my favorite moments from the books is when Piglet asks, ‘We’ll be friends forever, won’t we, Pooh?’ and Pooh answers, ‘Even longer.’” The unspoken implication, It reminds me of us, hangs in the air. She doesn’t need to say it, hopefully. They’ve discussed it before.
Freen softens. “Yes. Friends forever.”
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