Through My Eyes
SHARI ELLIS
Short Story
‘Mummy and Daddy are playing the Quiet Game again. They’ve been playing since this morning,’ I told Rabbit as I sifted through the Lego pieces on my bed. ‘I’m looking for the brown piece, can you see it?’
‘You don’t have to play with them,’ Rabbit told me. He was my favourite stuffed toy and he sat perched on my desk watching, with one of his purple ears flopped over his one remaining blue eye. Of course, Jason knew that Rabbit didn’t actually speak, but he liked to pretend he did.
‘Yeah, but I don’t want them to fight.’ I picked up a small black brick and click it into place. ‘I’m looking for the brown piece now, can you see it?’
My role when we played the Quiet Game was to keep Mummy and Daddy from talking to each other. If I failed at my job, then they’d start yelling at each other.
‘The brown piece is there.’ Rabbit’s eye sparkled as he pointed it out to me.
‘Thanks!’ I cheered as I plucked it up and clicked it into place. ‘Now I need a green one.’
‘Is it that one?’
‘Nah, it’s only got the two dots.’
‘Dinner time!’ Daddy announced from down the kitchen.
‘Finally!’ I groaned as I scooped Rabbit up by the paw. ‘I’m starving!’
I launched myself down the stairs and scrambled up onto my chair at the dinner table with Rabbit settled in my lap. He tilted dangerously as I squirmed in my seat. Mummy was already there, and Daddy was coming from the kitchen. The silence weighed heavy on my chest.
‘Dumplings!’ I cheered. ‘Hell yeah!’
‘Language!’ Mummy scolded.
‘Sorry, Mummy.’
‘It wasn’t that bad, he’s just a kid,’ Daddy replied, ruffled my head as he sat down.
‘It’ll get worse if we don’t correct it now.’ Mummy stabbed a fork into a dumpling.
‘It’s okay, I just won’t say it anymore!’ I interrupted.
‘Good boy.’ Mummy smiled and went back to eating. Daddy grumbled, but he didn’t yell (Mission Successful).
I greedily began to eat. The flavour exploded through my mouth and warmed my chest. Delighted, I shoved in two more, barely pausing to chew or swallow.
‘Slow down,’ Mummy fussed. ‘Take a minute to chew or you’re going to choke.’
I made a show of swallowing my food, then opened my mouth to show it was empty with a long ‘aaaah’ sound.
‘Ugh, Jason, keep your mouth closed when you’re eating.’ Mummy wrinkled her nose, but her eyes were bright with joy.
‘Quit smothering him,’ Daddy muttered, and the happiness quickly sapped from Mummy’s face.
‘The dumplings are awesome, Daddy!’ I grinned, knowing Daddy loved someone complimented his cooking.
‘Thanks, kiddo.’
Daddy smiled and then they were all silent again (I was on a roll!). It wasn’t until I was guzzling the last of my juice that Daddy pushed away his empty plate and spoke.
‘Jason, we need to talk to you.’
‘How would you feel about having two houses?’ Mummy asked, rolling her last dumpling across her plate before she stabbed it with a fork and brought it to her mouth to slowly chew on.
‘Really? That sounds awesome!’ I cheered.
Daddy gave a small chuckle. ‘Yeah, it’d be like a sleepover every night. Would you like that?’
‘Yeah!’ I nodded. ‘As long as I don’t have to sleep on one of those pump-up mattress thingos. They suck.’
‘No, you’d have a proper bed in both houses,’ Daddy said.
‘How do we decide when to move to each house?’
‘Well, you’d have a set time when you would move.’
‘Wait,’ I complained, ‘do I have to do twice as many chores for the two houses?’
‘That’s really sweet, hon. But no,’ Mummy said.
‘Oh, wait! Is it one of those, um, cool water houses, like Emily’s family has?’ I asked.
‘Beach house,’ Rabbit corrected.
‘A beach house?’
‘No, kiddo,’ Daddy said.
‘Then, why are we getting a second house?’
‘Well, Daddy and Mummy would each be living at one of the houses. And you’d be moving between the two of us,’ Daddy explained, running a hand through his hair. ‘You’d get two birthdays and two Christmases and two of every special day. One with each of us.’
I felt a tugging in my chest. ‘You don’t have to do that for me. I don’t mind only having one of everything.’
Mummy and Daddy gave each other one of Those Looks they gave when they had something to say, but they didn’t want me to hear.
‘You guys are speaking telephonely, again,’ I said.
‘Telepathically,’ Rabbit supplied.
‘Tele-path-it-cally,’ I sounded out.
‘Close enough.’
‘I wish it were that simple, Jason.’ Mummy grimaced as she looked at Daddy. ‘But there are a lot of really complicated reasons behind why we’re doing this.’
‘Exactly. You see, sometimes Mums and Dads fall out of love and sometimes having two homes is better than just one. We want to take care of you the best that we can, and the way for us to do that is from separate houses.’
‘Oh,’ I said.
‘Jason,’ Daddy’s voice was soft when he spoke again, hands folded on the table, one thumb rubbing over the other hand’s knuckles. ‘You have to know that Mum and I both love you so much and we would never make a decision like this without thinking about it long and hard. This is our last choice, but it’s the one we think is best for all of us.’
Mummy reached out a hand to rest on my arm and rub some warm comfort into it. My grip on Rabbit’s paw tightened.
‘But you have to know that we’re doing this for you, too. We love you so much, and just know that none of this is your fault. You know that, right?’ Mummy asked.
I tucked my chin a bit closer into Rabbit’s fur, trying to cover the uncomfortable welling in my throat, and nodded. My eyes began to prick. I just wanted to go back to my room.
‘Sharon, I told you we should have done this differently,’ Daddy said, his voice was sharp as a wire and tight like it might snap. My confusion morphed into fear. I didn’t want them yelling right now; not when I needed their help to understand.
Mummy’s hand stopped moving and went stiff on my arm. Her sharp inhale promised a sharper retort.
‘Who’s Sharon?’ My numb mind grasped at the first thing I could. Questions always calmed them down.
Mummy focused back on me, her eyes crinkling at the edges as her face moved to give a small smile.
‘It’s my name, sweetheart.’ Mummy squeezed my arm and the warmth started to burn my skin.
‘Oh.’
Of course, Mummy would have her own name. But I had never really thought about it before. She’d always just been ‘Mummy’ to me.
‘Can I please get down?’ I whispered. My chin was trembling, and I really didn’t want to cry.
‘Oh, um. Sure, hon.’ Mummy finally pulled her scorching hand off my skin and I felt the weight of silence pushing down around me until finally, the click of my bedroom door shut behind me and there was Daddy’s voice.
‘Just give him some time.’
I stared down at the half-made Lego set on the bed that Mummy had given me when she’d picked me up from school. Something sharp scratched in my throat that made me sob as I lunged at the pieces and desperately swiped at them until they’d all clattered and scattered across the cold wooden floor. Then I picked up the half-made set and threw it on the floor with a high-pitched screech, watching as it shattered and skittered across the ground in clumps.
Then I launched myself into the bed, stuffed my face into the pillow and pulled the covers all the way over my head. There was a white-hot anger burning in me and I opened my mouth and let it out; a painful scream peeled up and out of my throat. It was wet and ripping and painfully bright, like how I imagined breathing fire would feel.
Once it was finally all out, I rolled over onto my side, curled into a ball, and let my hot tears leak onto the pillow. I reached up a hand to rub at my cheeks, which had already begun to itch from the drying salt.
‘Do you feel better now?’ Rabbit piped up from where he was tucked under my chin. Even with all the anger, I hadn’t let go of his paw.
‘No, I’m still angry,’ I whispered through gritted teeth, ‘Why are they doing this? I don’t understand.’
‘Sometimes this just happens with people. It’s easy to love someone when you have so much of yourself to give, but as time goes on, people run out of love and pieces to give to each other.’
‘I don’t want them to leave. They’re my Mum and Dad. They’re supposed to be my Mum and Dad.’ My frustration was like a rock in the base of my throat and no matter what I did, I just couldn’t tug it free.
‘They’re not going to let go of you, Jason, even though they’re letting go of each other. They’re just loving you from separate houses, that’s all. They may have run out of Love and Pieces to give to each other, but they still have plenty left to give to you.’
I sighed. ‘This sucks.’
‘A little, yeah.’
I tried to released the tension in my chest in a puff of air.
‘And I’m still angry.’
‘ I get that, but sometimes you have to understand how other people feel and put their emotions before your own.’
‘Why? That isn’t fair! They shouldn’t be allowed to do this to me!’
‘You have to put yourself in their shoes, imagine-’
‘Why aren’t you on my side?’ I demanded as the anger bubbled up in my chest again.
‘I am, Jason. I’m trying to help you understand-’
‘That isn’t helping!’ I huffed. ‘I don’t want to understand, I want it to stop hurting.’
‘That’s going to take time.’
‘But I want it to happen now.’
‘There’s nothing I can do to make that happen.’
‘Why not!’
‘I just can’t.’
‘But you always help me! You’re supposed to help me!’
I picked Rabbit up and tossed it so that the glass eye clacked against the bedroom door, then the toy thumped as it landed on the wooden floor, facing me.
‘I’m not going to play with you anymore,’ I whispered.
I glared into Rabbit’s single, unblinking eye; it was scratched and dull and hanging on by a single thread. He stared back.
‘Go away.’
I rolled over, pulled the blankets back up to my quivering chin and tried to ignore the feeling of Rabbit’s gaze burning into the back of my head.
‘I told you to stop it!’ I shouted as I threw myself out of bed and stomped my way across the room, fisting Rabbit by his skinny neck and shaking him in one hand as I marched over to the toy barrel at the end of my bed. I shoved Rabbit down into it as far as I could make him go, burying him under the weight of all the toys my parents had bought for me. Once I was satisfied, I crawled over my mattress and smothered myself under the blankets, rolling away from the toy barrel to face the wall and cried until I finally slept.
I never heard Rabbit speak again.
Based in Sydney, Shari Ellis is an aspiring author of short stories and longer novels, who has always had a vivid imagination and a love of the fantastical. Her favourite place to write is in the backyard with her mischievous bunny running around and a cup of coffee in hand.
