Eight

It is still light by the time Eva returns home with an ample supply of farmer Ohuna’s scrumptious muttonbird stew and a few carrots. At the front door, she lifts the mat and finds ten yellow nuggets.

            “Adamos has returned!” exclaims Eva, a surge of joy rushing through her body. But the joy soon dies. “No, it cannot be. He doesn’t know this is where I find the nuggets.”

Disappointed, Eva gathers the nuggets. “This time Adamos will not get his sticky paws on them … if he returns,” whispers Eva. “I will hide them in a different place.” She kicks the door open. She must avoid looking at the rabbit’s eyes. Cautiously she lifts her eyes to find the rabbit is fast asleep.

            “Just like Adamos,” says Eva. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it slept all day. Maybe now is a good time to put the blindfold on.”

            Eva tiptoes past the rabbit and hurries into the kitchen, leaving a delicious aroma of the cooked stew in her wake. The rabbit stirs. Its whiskers twitch. Its pink tongue darts out, licking its lips in hungry anticipation.

            “Ah,” says Adamos, stretching lazily. “Eva has returned and has brought muttonbird stew. It’s a long time since I had muttonbird. EVA! FEED ME. I’M STARVING. BRING ME SOME MUTTONBIRD … WITH LOTS OF CARROTS! Perhaps I shouldn’t shout so. I must try some gentleness. Eva my sweet, I’m hungry, feed me.”

Adamos sniffs the air expectantly, savoring the smell of the stew. When Eva does not return, he pushes his rabbit mouth between two bars, and says, “Eva my sweet, perhaps you didn’t hear me; food, please!”

In the kitchen, Eva plops her bag on the ground and puts the food on the table. She drops the nuggets in a cup and hides it behind several jars of assorted herb and tea leaves which are stacked on one corner of the ground.

From a bundle of old clothes, Eva pulls out her worn-out pantaloons. “This is perfect for a blindfold,” she says, removing the strings from the waist and legs. “The rabbit didn’t have to have eyes like Adamos’, did it?” Eva mumbles ripping a strip from the fabric.

            Returning from the kitchen with the strip of cloth, Eva finds the rabbit sniffing the air. She braces herself for a face-to-face encounter. She will have to endure one last look at its eyes. Inhaling deeply, she walks to the cage. The rabbit crouches on its four paws, its whiskers twitching, its eyes looking steadily at Eva. It makes soft purring sounds like a cat. Eva purses her lips and, reaching into the cage, grabs the animal. It feels wet!

            “Ah! Eva, you’re taking me out of this wet prison at last. You know it’s me, don’t you? You’re going to feed me, aren’t you? Oh my darling wife, how I’ve misjudged your kindness. How I’ve missed your gentleness. I have memories of once upon a time when I whispered sweet words of nothingness into your ear, and held you lovingly in my arms. Let me rest my cheek against your bosom.” Adamos almost chokes over these unaccustomed terms of endearment. All the same, he is overjoyed because he is free from his confinement in the cage. But his happiness evaporates when Eva quickly wraps a strip of cloth round and round his head, covering his eyes.

            “NOOOOooooo!” screams Adamos, heaving his bulky rabbit body and twisting his head, trying to wriggle free from the blindfold. “You must not do this thing, Eva, my precious love. My eyes are the only means I have to convey to you that I am your beloved husband.” The words almost stick in his throat. “Eva, noooooo!”

            But, Adamos’ screams are in vain because Eva cannot hear him. Thinking the rabbit is trying to escape, Eva tightens her legs, clamping the short chunky paws between her knees; the wriggling stops.

What’s the use? thinks Adamos. I’m doomed.

After wrapping the strip of cloth around the rabbit’s eyes, without trapping its ears, Eva is satisfied she can now look at the animal without fear of it reminding her of Adamos.

“Now, there’s a good rabbit,” coos Eva, stroking the top of its head. “I shall have to place some absorbing padding at the bottom of your cage so when you pee it doesn’t wet your fur.”

“Yeah! Yeah!” Adamos jerks his head away, annoyed at Eva’s callousness. “Like you really care! All the same, where do I do the other thing? I can’t use the cesspit now, can I? I might fall in. Not that you would give a toss if I did … fall in … and die … a slow … painful … drowning death.”

Eva begins to sing softly.

The rabbit’s whiskers twitch. “Stop singing, will you. Your voice irritates me … you know that.” Adamos is in a fowl mood now.

“A blindfolded rabbit with twitching whiskers; you look funny,” says Eva with a laugh.

“Well, at least it’s stopped you singing. So where do I do the other thing, darn it? I have a good mind to do it in your lap. Pity I don’t have the urge just yet.”

Grabbing an old rag, Eva rubs the rabbit dry. Still holding the animal, she folds some of Adamos’ old clothing and lines the bottom of the cage.

“There you are rabbit, a nice dry bed to sleep on. Pee on it as much as you like. Adamos won’t be needing his shirts anymore.”

“No, Eva, don’t put me back in the cage.” The rabbit’s front paws lash out and wrap around Eva’s arm. “Let me sleep on my bed … our bed.”

“You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?” Disengaging the paws, Eva plops the animal back into its cage.

Immediately the rabbit rolls onto its side—gasping for breath, wriggling feebly.

“With all that fat, I don’t expect you’re hungry.” Eva prods the bulging tummy. “But I suppose I shouldn’t be too harsh just yet. The shock of starving you might be too drastic, plus I don’t want to find a dead rabbit in this lovely cage. Mind you, if you were Adamos, I would probably starve you, or accidentally drop you in the cesspit.”

Yeah! I’m sure you would, thinks Adamos.

For the first time, Eva is able to look closely at the rabbit’s cage. She is shocked to discover it is no ordinary cage. It is made of the same material as her nuggets, and the pattern is intricately woven. Her eyes widen. Leaning close to the side of the cage, she pokes her finger in and scratches the rabbit’s ear. “What kind of rabbit are you to be given such a beautiful cage?” she whispers.

“I’m your husband, darn it. Your husband!” replies Adamos with rising anger, then in a resigned voice, he says, “Oh what’s the use?”

“Pity you can’t talk, rabbit, otherwise you would probably tell me you are from a royal rabbit family.” Eva teases. “I’ve news for you though; there are no royal rabbits or royal rabbit robes; no royal rabbit bedchambers or royal rabbit coaches. So I will not address you as Your Royal Rabbitness. You might have been somebody’s pet, but you’re a rabbit none the less.” Eva tickles the rabbit’s chin, humming softly to it.

Adamos twitches his whiskers, irritation mixed with remorse nips at his heartstrings. “Thanks for the reminder, Eva. A rabbit I am, a rabbit I will remain. That’s my reward for the greed and pain I have caused you. I have no one to blame but myself. Oh, if I could turn back the hands of time, I would be a different person. I would be loving and kind towards you, the one true love of my life. I have seen the gentleness and love in you, Eva, only I chose to ignore it. Already I’ve seen the error of my ways.”

“You twitch your whiskers as if you try to speak,” says Eva. “Pity you can neither understand nor speak. It would be interesting to know what you think of that louse Adamos.”

“Oh Eva, my sweet, I hear you. It is you who cannot hear me,” twitches the whiskers. “You ask what I think of Adamos? You are right. He is a louse. I have seen how people are charmed by your smile and elegant ways. I have seen the way you lovingly do your chores, never complaining. But alas, this feeling of jealousy inside me was too strong to control and I ended up treating you miserably, my darling wife, always looking for ways to belittle you in front of others; never saying “please” or “thanks” when I asked you to do things for me. Why keep a dog if I have to bark myself, I always said to you. I am not a man; I am a lousy mouse. No, no, no, I am not a mouse at all. I am a flaming, lousy rabbit, but nonetheless, your husband.”

The rabbit sighs; Eva withdraws her finger.

“That sigh,” whispers Eva staring at the rabbit. “It sounded like Adamos’. No!” She shakes her head to dislodge the emerging picture. Her sister’s words flood back to her mind. Maybe the fat rabbit is Adamos! “No!” Eva backs away from the cage. “My mind is playing stupid tricks. You cannot be Adamos, rabbit. He is almost bald.  If you were Adamos, you would have little hair on your head too.” She laughs nervously. Her argument is logical, not illogical.

The rabbit presses its body against the side of the cage. “Eva,” the whiskers vibrate, “you heard right. Yes, it is I, Adamos. I am the rabbit. That confounded tree has done this deed. Take me to it.”

Ignoring the rabbit, Eva hurries back to the kitchen. She must dismiss those foolish thoughts. Eva braces her hands on the table. She must stop imagining such ridiculous things or she might go out of her mind. It is Neena’s fault for planting the thought in her head in the first place. Adamos is gone and that is the end of that. From now on, she will focus on her promise.