Velvet Rabbit
Kick, step. Kick, step. Kick, step. Kick, step.
The two words drum over in my brain again and again. Kick, step. Kick, step. It makes things simple. All I have to do is kick and step. At least, David made it seem that way. The dress was a deep red made of pure velvet. I didn’t want to wear it, but like everything else in my life these days David had the smooth talkin’ way of making me do things.
“David, I don’t wanna fuckin’ go,” I stood in our bedroom; well, it wouldn’t be ours much longer, with my arms crossed. I fixed a steady glare on David.
“The fuck you are. I already told everyone you were gonna be there.” He shrugged as though that very statement was some binding contract I couldn’t get out of.
“David, I physically cannot go,” I almost shrieked.
A tiny, very quiet giggle came from inside our closet. I glanced over at it. Our seven year old daughter, Layla, is hiding in between David’s designer suits. When David looks away, I quickly put my finger to my lips. David would surely kill her if he saw her spying on us.
“I don’t understand. You’ve been getting ready for the past ten hours.” He had this dumb fuckin’ stare that made him look dead inside. He had looked that way for six months.
David was right though. I had been getting ready for ten hours. The hair people came at 8:30 this morning. It took them two hours to do this stunning messy bun with a braid on each side and some loose curls in the front. Then at 10:30 the makeup artist came. I had spent six hours in the makeup chair. Took her an awfully long time to cover all the scars across my face. Layla was adorable though. She was so intent on playing with all the makeup brushes and getting her hair done “just like mommy.”
At 4:30 pm, the stylist came with eight different dress choices. They were all red. Every single one of them. Shivers crawled up my back. I swear David picked his stupid red suit on purpose, so I would have to wear the matching red dress. In his little fucked up head, he was doing a good thing. I had taken everything red out of the house; burned it on the front lawn. Every time I see it, my brain fills with the feeling of her blood pouring out into my hands. I tried and tried and tried, but the blood just kept coming.
David thought it was all stupid. Had to rip the band aid off.
“Can’t avoid an entire color forever, Sofi,” he would alway growl.
So he picked the goddamn red dress cause I was too busy sobbing to speak and now it’s 6:35 and we were supposed to leave at 6:30 and I cannot go.
I wanted to scream at David, but I knew he wouldn’t understand. I glanced at the closet again. Layla took her three most favorite dolls in there with her. She could play with dolls forever. Layla’s long curly blonde hair poked out in every direction. I needed to comb it and her teeth still weren’t brushed. She wouldn’t even go to bed for another three hours. I couldn’t just leave her.
I flopped down on our bed, ruining my perfect hair. My eyes fall on a picture on our bureau. It’s the only picture left in the house. It was the Golden Globes 2008. David stands in a full blown black tux. I’m in a gorgeous scarlet dress. I was barely nineteen. David was twenty seven. We both hold Globes in our hands. Huge smiles plaster across our faces. The Velvet Rabbit. It was our breakout movie. David won for best director and I for best actress. We were so in love that night. It was the best night of our lives. If I didn’t have the photo to prove it existed I would tell you I dreamt it.
Tears fell down my face.
“I can’t go. I can’t do it, David,” my voice turned to sobs.
David reached down and yanked me off the bed by my arms. Layla’s eyes widened from the closet. I shook my head at her. If she jumped into this mess she would just get hurt.
“You’re not sick, Sofia! There’s nothing wrong with you!” he screamed.
“You’re gonna scare our daughter!” I shouted back.
David shook his head. “You’re fucking mental. You know that? Now get your ass up and let’s go.”
“I can’t do it!” I screamed back, jerking out of his arms.
“You haven’t left the house in six months!”
Some people’s faces get red or sweaty or at the very least their eyebrows furrow together when they’re angry. David’s didn’t do any of that. He would scream with the most blank, flattest face and it still is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.
“And you’ve just moved on like nothing happened!” My eyes were red and puffy. My whole face was scrunched together. I was angry and sad and damaged and it only took one look at me to notice it.
“Life is happening, Sofi. I need someone who’s going to live it with me.” His voice gets all low and controlling like it does on set.
For a moment, I forgot Layla was in the room.
“Then why don’t you just divorce me.” I sat back down on the bed and tossed my hands in the air for dramatic effect. Layla let out a cry. I whipped my eyes to meet David’s. If he heard her, he was not reacting.
“You know I can’t do that. You know how bad that would look,” he said point blank.
I glanced over into the closet. “I can’t just leave her alone.”
David knelt down in front of me as though he was talking to a child. “You’re going to get up, wipe the tears off your face, fix your hair, and go or pay the price.”
He words cut through me like knives. I had paid the price many times. I had a broken clavicle that never quite healed right to prove it.
So here I am. In a long, velvet, crimson dress kicking and then stepping as to not trip on my own dress. Wouldn’t that be some sort of metaphor?
“Oh, Sofia you just look radiant!” Cherry cries, running over to me. My friend, if you could call someone you secretly despise but pretend to like a friend. She enfolds me in an elegant hug. Her earrings, huge diamond studs, were a hundred and fifty thousand, easy. Her dress, covered in jewels, was probably triple that. I hate myself for judging her on that, but this is Hollywood and everyone is a walking price tag. Fifteen year ago, I would have been shocked to wear a hundred dollar dress. Now I wear dresses a thousand times that.
“You look lovely too, Cherry.” I smile.
My breath catches in my mouth. Behind Cherry, I swear I see Layla run by.
“Everything alright?” Cherry chirps.
I blink and shake my head. Just my imagination.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Oh, let me introduce you to all the newcomers.” Cherry grabs my hand before she finishes her sentence and whisks me a over to a group of women. Most faces I recognize, some I don’t.
All of them are basically the same. Each having more plastic in them than my daughter’s toys and wearing more money than most folks make in a year. They all stare at me with the same half surprised, half pity look. I know they know. Everyone knows. Hell, the whole world knows. This reason is part of why I didn’t want to come.
“This is Trisha...” Cherry starts going around listing everyone’s name.
Layla’s giggle radiates through the party. I spin around. Her tattered white nighty runs through the crowd and underneath the hors d’oeuvre table. I smile at the ladies.
“If you will excuse me a moment.” I speed walk away from them as fast as I can, kicking and stepping my way to the hors d’oeuvre table. They all stare as I walk away.
Without being too obvious, I lift the cloth and peer under the table. Nobody acknowledges what I’m doing, but I know they’re all looking, judging. Under the table, Layla cries loudly. How she even got here is beyond me. I reach my hand out.
“Come on, Lady Bug. It’s okay.” I can practically hear David making excuses for me as we speak.
“Sofia hasn’t been quite well lately.” That’s his go to one.
Layla shrieks and runs out the other side of the table. I charge after her. I dodge fancy people with fancy glasses. People jump out of my way, throwing me strange glances and dirty looks.
She runs into the bathroom. I run in after her, slamming the door behind me. She’s gone.
“Lady bug?” I walk around the room slowly.
An awful scraping sound comes from behind the toilet.
“Layla? It’s just Mommy. Mommy’s here,” I murmur. I carefully look behind the toilet. She’s not there.
The scraping sound grows louder. I wince. Her soft giggle pierces through the noise. The shower curtain waves. One of her tiny dolls peaks out of it. I race over and toss open the shower curtain.
“Found you, Lady bu-”
She’s not there. Nothing is. Her laugh bounces off the walls. I spin around. Every single cabinet in the bathroom has been flung open. My palms begin to sweat.
“Layla, enough with the games. Come out.”
She doesn’t.
I glance up. On the mirror are words written in deep red blood. IT HURTS. My heart races. I run over to the mirror.
“Layla!”
With one fist, I smash the mirror into tiny pieces. Glass shatters around me, digging into my body. Something sticky seeps through my feet. I shriek. Blood pours through the floor. Layla’s giggles turn into sobs. A single memory rushes back to me all at once.
David struggled to unlock the front door. His suit was stained brown from the mud he stepped in on the way up to the door. I held on to him for dear life, certain I would fall right over if I didn’t. I laughed hard at David’s struggle which only caused him more difficulty.
“Sofi, Sofi, I’m trying to get the goddamn door open,” he said in between fits of laughter. The odor of expensive wine encased him and probably me as well. Finally, we get the key into the hole.
“Bada bing, bada boom!” David shouted, doing his best Italian accent.
The moment we stumbled into our house, Layla’s screams hit my ears. David and I glanced at each other and took off running.
“Layla? Honey? Where are you? What’s wrong?” David shouted with a rising panic in his voice.
“The kitchen!” I shouted back.
We ran into the kitchen. The babysitter, our sweet neighbor from down the road, lay dead on the floor. Her throat was split open. Layla was splayed out across the floor next to her. Blood rushed out of her chest. Her white nighty was now red. I screamed louder than I ever have before.
In the living room, something shattered. David took off running. I kneeled down in front of Layla. I pulled her into my lap, putting both hands over her gaping wound. The blood rushed through my hands faster than I could keep it in. Layla sobbed.
“It’s hurts. It hurts so bad, Mommy. It hurts so bad.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. It’s gonna be okay.” I cradled her in my arms. “David! David!”
He charged back into the room. “He’s gone.”
“Call 911!” I shouted at him. For once in his life, David did as he was instructed.
“It hurts, mommy.” Layla gasped for a breath as her eyes fluttered shut.
“No, no, no... Stay right here! Stay with me, Lady Bug!” I laid her down gently on my lap while still holding steadfast to her chest. In my heart, I knew it was too late. It wasn’t until the paramedics ripped me off her, that I actually let go. Everything broke inside me. I watched her take her first breath and now her last.
Tears fill my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Lady Bug. I shoulda been there. I should never have left you. I’m so sorry.” Blood is now up to my chest. I want to run for the door, but I don’t have it in me. Layla’s sobs continue to fill the room.
“I’m so, so sorry,” I scream. Blood pours down my throat. I start to choke. “Just do it! Kill me!”
The antique door flies open. David stands in his red suit. I glance around the room. No blood. No sobs. No Layla. Tears flood down my face.
“She’s dead, David,” I murmur.
“Yeah, everybody fucking dies,” David growls. “Now get your ass off the ground before you make a bigger embarrassment out of yourself.”
Slowly, I collect myself off of the ground. I take a hold of his hand, paint a smile on my face, and together we walk back into the party just as in love as the day we met.
“We should at least be home by ten,” I tell him. “I don’t want Layla waiting up for us.”
The two words drum over in my brain again and again. Kick, step. Kick, step. It makes things simple. All I have to do is kick and step. At least, David made it seem that way. The dress was a deep red made of pure velvet. I didn’t want to wear it, but like everything else in my life these days David had the smooth talkin’ way of making me do things.
“David, I don’t wanna fuckin’ go,” I stood in our bedroom; well, it wouldn’t be ours much longer, with my arms crossed. I fixed a steady glare on David.
“The fuck you are. I already told everyone you were gonna be there.” He shrugged as though that very statement was some binding contract I couldn’t get out of.
“David, I physically cannot go,” I almost shrieked.
A tiny, very quiet giggle came from inside our closet. I glanced over at it. Our seven year old daughter, Layla, is hiding in between David’s designer suits. When David looks away, I quickly put my finger to my lips. David would surely kill her if he saw her spying on us.
“I don’t understand. You’ve been getting ready for the past ten hours.” He had this dumb fuckin’ stare that made him look dead inside. He had looked that way for six months.
David was right though. I had been getting ready for ten hours. The hair people came at 8:30 this morning. It took them two hours to do this stunning messy bun with a braid on each side and some loose curls in the front. Then at 10:30 the makeup artist came. I had spent six hours in the makeup chair. Took her an awfully long time to cover all the scars across my face. Layla was adorable though. She was so intent on playing with all the makeup brushes and getting her hair done “just like mommy.”
At 4:30 pm, the stylist came with eight different dress choices. They were all red. Every single one of them. Shivers crawled up my back. I swear David picked his stupid red suit on purpose, so I would have to wear the matching red dress. In his little fucked up head, he was doing a good thing. I had taken everything red out of the house; burned it on the front lawn. Every time I see it, my brain fills with the feeling of her blood pouring out into my hands. I tried and tried and tried, but the blood just kept coming.
David thought it was all stupid. Had to rip the band aid off.
“Can’t avoid an entire color forever, Sofi,” he would alway growl.
So he picked the goddamn red dress cause I was too busy sobbing to speak and now it’s 6:35 and we were supposed to leave at 6:30 and I cannot go.
I wanted to scream at David, but I knew he wouldn’t understand. I glanced at the closet again. Layla took her three most favorite dolls in there with her. She could play with dolls forever. Layla’s long curly blonde hair poked out in every direction. I needed to comb it and her teeth still weren’t brushed. She wouldn’t even go to bed for another three hours. I couldn’t just leave her.
I flopped down on our bed, ruining my perfect hair. My eyes fall on a picture on our bureau. It’s the only picture left in the house. It was the Golden Globes 2008. David stands in a full blown black tux. I’m in a gorgeous scarlet dress. I was barely nineteen. David was twenty seven. We both hold Globes in our hands. Huge smiles plaster across our faces. The Velvet Rabbit. It was our breakout movie. David won for best director and I for best actress. We were so in love that night. It was the best night of our lives. If I didn’t have the photo to prove it existed I would tell you I dreamt it.
Tears fell down my face.
“I can’t go. I can’t do it, David,” my voice turned to sobs.
David reached down and yanked me off the bed by my arms. Layla’s eyes widened from the closet. I shook my head at her. If she jumped into this mess she would just get hurt.
“You’re not sick, Sofia! There’s nothing wrong with you!” he screamed.
“You’re gonna scare our daughter!” I shouted back.
David shook his head. “You’re fucking mental. You know that? Now get your ass up and let’s go.”
“I can’t do it!” I screamed back, jerking out of his arms.
“You haven’t left the house in six months!”
Some people’s faces get red or sweaty or at the very least their eyebrows furrow together when they’re angry. David’s didn’t do any of that. He would scream with the most blank, flattest face and it still is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.
“And you’ve just moved on like nothing happened!” My eyes were red and puffy. My whole face was scrunched together. I was angry and sad and damaged and it only took one look at me to notice it.
“Life is happening, Sofi. I need someone who’s going to live it with me.” His voice gets all low and controlling like it does on set.
For a moment, I forgot Layla was in the room.
“Then why don’t you just divorce me.” I sat back down on the bed and tossed my hands in the air for dramatic effect. Layla let out a cry. I whipped my eyes to meet David’s. If he heard her, he was not reacting.
“You know I can’t do that. You know how bad that would look,” he said point blank.
I glanced over into the closet. “I can’t just leave her alone.”
David knelt down in front of me as though he was talking to a child. “You’re going to get up, wipe the tears off your face, fix your hair, and go or pay the price.”
He words cut through me like knives. I had paid the price many times. I had a broken clavicle that never quite healed right to prove it.
So here I am. In a long, velvet, crimson dress kicking and then stepping as to not trip on my own dress. Wouldn’t that be some sort of metaphor?
“Oh, Sofia you just look radiant!” Cherry cries, running over to me. My friend, if you could call someone you secretly despise but pretend to like a friend. She enfolds me in an elegant hug. Her earrings, huge diamond studs, were a hundred and fifty thousand, easy. Her dress, covered in jewels, was probably triple that. I hate myself for judging her on that, but this is Hollywood and everyone is a walking price tag. Fifteen year ago, I would have been shocked to wear a hundred dollar dress. Now I wear dresses a thousand times that.
“You look lovely too, Cherry.” I smile.
My breath catches in my mouth. Behind Cherry, I swear I see Layla run by.
“Everything alright?” Cherry chirps.
I blink and shake my head. Just my imagination.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Oh, let me introduce you to all the newcomers.” Cherry grabs my hand before she finishes her sentence and whisks me a over to a group of women. Most faces I recognize, some I don’t.
All of them are basically the same. Each having more plastic in them than my daughter’s toys and wearing more money than most folks make in a year. They all stare at me with the same half surprised, half pity look. I know they know. Everyone knows. Hell, the whole world knows. This reason is part of why I didn’t want to come.
“This is Trisha...” Cherry starts going around listing everyone’s name.
Layla’s giggle radiates through the party. I spin around. Her tattered white nighty runs through the crowd and underneath the hors d’oeuvre table. I smile at the ladies.
“If you will excuse me a moment.” I speed walk away from them as fast as I can, kicking and stepping my way to the hors d’oeuvre table. They all stare as I walk away.
Without being too obvious, I lift the cloth and peer under the table. Nobody acknowledges what I’m doing, but I know they’re all looking, judging. Under the table, Layla cries loudly. How she even got here is beyond me. I reach my hand out.
“Come on, Lady Bug. It’s okay.” I can practically hear David making excuses for me as we speak.
“Sofia hasn’t been quite well lately.” That’s his go to one.
Layla shrieks and runs out the other side of the table. I charge after her. I dodge fancy people with fancy glasses. People jump out of my way, throwing me strange glances and dirty looks.
She runs into the bathroom. I run in after her, slamming the door behind me. She’s gone.
“Lady bug?” I walk around the room slowly.
An awful scraping sound comes from behind the toilet.
“Layla? It’s just Mommy. Mommy’s here,” I murmur. I carefully look behind the toilet. She’s not there.
The scraping sound grows louder. I wince. Her soft giggle pierces through the noise. The shower curtain waves. One of her tiny dolls peaks out of it. I race over and toss open the shower curtain.
“Found you, Lady bu-”
She’s not there. Nothing is. Her laugh bounces off the walls. I spin around. Every single cabinet in the bathroom has been flung open. My palms begin to sweat.
“Layla, enough with the games. Come out.”
She doesn’t.
I glance up. On the mirror are words written in deep red blood. IT HURTS. My heart races. I run over to the mirror.
“Layla!”
With one fist, I smash the mirror into tiny pieces. Glass shatters around me, digging into my body. Something sticky seeps through my feet. I shriek. Blood pours through the floor. Layla’s giggles turn into sobs. A single memory rushes back to me all at once.
David struggled to unlock the front door. His suit was stained brown from the mud he stepped in on the way up to the door. I held on to him for dear life, certain I would fall right over if I didn’t. I laughed hard at David’s struggle which only caused him more difficulty.
“Sofi, Sofi, I’m trying to get the goddamn door open,” he said in between fits of laughter. The odor of expensive wine encased him and probably me as well. Finally, we get the key into the hole.
“Bada bing, bada boom!” David shouted, doing his best Italian accent.
The moment we stumbled into our house, Layla’s screams hit my ears. David and I glanced at each other and took off running.
“Layla? Honey? Where are you? What’s wrong?” David shouted with a rising panic in his voice.
“The kitchen!” I shouted back.
We ran into the kitchen. The babysitter, our sweet neighbor from down the road, lay dead on the floor. Her throat was split open. Layla was splayed out across the floor next to her. Blood rushed out of her chest. Her white nighty was now red. I screamed louder than I ever have before.
In the living room, something shattered. David took off running. I kneeled down in front of Layla. I pulled her into my lap, putting both hands over her gaping wound. The blood rushed through my hands faster than I could keep it in. Layla sobbed.
“It’s hurts. It hurts so bad, Mommy. It hurts so bad.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. It’s gonna be okay.” I cradled her in my arms. “David! David!”
He charged back into the room. “He’s gone.”
“Call 911!” I shouted at him. For once in his life, David did as he was instructed.
“It hurts, mommy.” Layla gasped for a breath as her eyes fluttered shut.
“No, no, no... Stay right here! Stay with me, Lady Bug!” I laid her down gently on my lap while still holding steadfast to her chest. In my heart, I knew it was too late. It wasn’t until the paramedics ripped me off her, that I actually let go. Everything broke inside me. I watched her take her first breath and now her last.
Tears fill my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Lady Bug. I shoulda been there. I should never have left you. I’m so sorry.” Blood is now up to my chest. I want to run for the door, but I don’t have it in me. Layla’s sobs continue to fill the room.
“I’m so, so sorry,” I scream. Blood pours down my throat. I start to choke. “Just do it! Kill me!”
The antique door flies open. David stands in his red suit. I glance around the room. No blood. No sobs. No Layla. Tears flood down my face.
“She’s dead, David,” I murmur.
“Yeah, everybody fucking dies,” David growls. “Now get your ass off the ground before you make a bigger embarrassment out of yourself.”
Slowly, I collect myself off of the ground. I take a hold of his hand, paint a smile on my face, and together we walk back into the party just as in love as the day we met.
“We should at least be home by ten,” I tell him. “I don’t want Layla waiting up for us.”