Vi opened her closet door and pulled boxes from the shelf, rummaging through her old toys and books—plastic ponies with tangled manes, stuffed animals, a Holly Hobbie rag doll with a patchwork dress and yarn hair in two braids, a cap gun that smelled of gunpowder—things she was too old to want to play with anymore, things she didn’t even remember—until she found what she was looking for.
She turned and looked into Iris’s eyes, which were a muddy brown, just like her own.
We could really be sisters, she thought. This girl and me.
“This is for you,” she said, holding out her gift.
Eric’s eyes widened, and he smiled and nodded, yes, yes, yes. Vi had gotten this right. She knew she had gotten this right.
It was a rabbit. A soft, plush rabbit, once white and fluffy, now more of a dingy gray, fur matted in places, the plastic eyes scratched.
Vi felt ashamed suddenly—it seemed a stupid thing, to give someone a toy this dirty. She wanted to hit rewind, take it back, but it was too late.
“It’s a puppet,” she explained. “See?” She put her hand inside the bunny, made its little paws wiggle, turned its head to look in Iris’s direction. The scratched plastic eyes stared at Iris, who smiled. Vi took the puppet off her hand and held it out. “She’s yours if you want her.”
Please, please, please.
Iris reached out, slowly took the puppet, stroked its soft head, ran her ragged, chewed nails over its ears. Then she slipped her hand inside.
Vi smiled. “Hello there, Rabbit,” she said. And the little head turned to look at her.
“Hullo,” it said back in a voice so soft Vi thought she might have imagined it.
But she hadn’t imagined it. Iris had spoken! She’d actually spoken!
Not Iris, she told herself. The bunny. The toy Vi had given her, hoping it just might crack open a door.
She looked over at Eric, whose jaw had actually fallen open, his eyes huge like those of a surprised cartoon character.
“What’s your name?” Vi asked, looking at the rabbit, not daring to look at Iris, worried she might break the spell.
It was so quiet she was sure they were all holding their breath.
“Don’t know,” the rabbit whispered, the words like a soft, regretful moan.
Vi kept her eyes on the rabbit. “Where do you come from?”
The rabbit swayed slightly.
“Don’t remember,” came the voice, soft as the rustle of paper.
Vi nodded. Her throat was dry. She was still staring at the worn rabbit puppet, but she was so close to Iris she could smell her, smell the Prell shampoo and Dial soap.
“What do you remember?” she asked.
Silence. Vi watched the rabbit. Its little fuzzy head slumped forward as if it had gone to sleep.
“It was dark,” Iris said at last. “And there was a voice.”
“A voice?”
The rabbit held still and Iris herself nodded. “The doctor’s voice. Dr. Hildreth.”
“Gran,” Eric said.
“Gran,” Iris repeated. She was still holding the rabbit, but she turned to look at Vi. “That’s all I remember. Her voice talking to me, asking if I could open my eyes.”
Vi nodded. “So you don’t know what your real name is?”
“Or where you came from?” Eric asked.
Iris shook her head, the shaggy, mousy-brown hair that stuck out from under her orange hat falling over her eyes. “My head hurts if I try to remember more.”