again, and she felt foolish, like a schoolgirl who doesn't stop to consider any consequences.
Gillian sat up, the white sheet pulled around her, and found that the cloud at the foot of the bed was nothing more than Ben's pet rabbit, Buddy, who hopped into her lap. Only a few weeks ago, Gillian had been out in the Sonoran desert, her hands over her ears, as Jimmy and two of his friends shot prairie dogs. They killed thirteen of them, and Gillian had thought it was terrible luck. She'd gotten shaky and pale, too upset to hide it. Luckily, Jimmy was in a great mood, since he'd bagged more prairie dogs than his pals had, shooting eight, if you included the two babies. He came over and put his arms around Gillian. When he looked at her in this way, she understood why she'd been so drawn to him, and why she was still. He could make it seem as though you were the only person in the universe; a bomb could fall, lightning could strike, he simply would not take his eyes off you.
'The only good rodent is a dead rodent,' Jimmy had told her. He smelted of cigarettes and heat and was just about as alive as a human being could be. 'Trust me on this. When you see one, shoot to kill.'
Jimmy would have gotten a good laugh catching her in bed with a rodent. Gillian pushed the rabbit away, then got up and found her way to the kitchen for a glass of water. She was disoriented and confused. She didn't know what she was doing in Ben's house, although it was surprisingly comfortable, with nice old pine furniture and shelves filled with books. Most of the men Gillian had been involved with had avoided the kitchen, some hadn't even seemed to be aware that their own houses had such rooms, complete with stoves and sinks, but here the kitchen was well used—a weathered pine table was piled high with science textbooks and menus from Chinese restaurants, and, when she looked, Gillian discovered that there was actually food in the refrigerator: several casserole pans of lasagna and broccoli-with-cheese soufflй, a carton of milk, cold cuts, bottled water, bunches of carrots. Right before they had to leave Tucson in such a hurry, there was nothing in their refrigerator but six-packs of Budweiser and Diet Coke. One package of frozen burritos was wedged way in the back near the ice trays, but anything left in their freezer always defrosted, then refroze, and was better left alone.
Gillian got herself a bottle of fancy water, and when she turned she saw that the rabbit had followed her.
'Go away,' she told him, but he wouldn't.
Buddy had taken to Gillian in a major way. He thumped his leg, the way rabbits in love always do. He paid no attention to her frown, or the fact that she waved her hands at him, as if he were a cat to be shooed away. He trailed behind her into the living room. When Gillian stopped, Buddy sat down on the rug and looked up at her.
'You quit this right now,' Gillian said.
She wagged her finger and glared at him, but Buddy stayed where he was. He had big brown eyes that were rimmed with pink. He looked serious and dignified, even when he washed his paws with his tongue.
'You're just a rodent,' Gillian told him. 'That's all you are.'
Gillian felt like crying, and why shouldn't she? She could never live up to Ben's version of her; she had a whole secret, horrible past to hide. She used to fuck men in parked cars just to prove she didn't give a damn; she used to count her conquests and laugh. She sat on the couch that Ben had ordered from a catalogue when his old one became threadbare. It was a really nice couch, made out of some plum-colored corduroy fabric. Just the kind of couch Gillian would have spotted in a magazine and wanted for herself, if she had a house, or money, or even a permanent address to which she could have catalogues and magazines mailed. She wasn't even certain that she could be in a normal relationship. What if she got tired of someone's being nice to her? What if she couldn't make him happy? What if Jimmy had been right and she'd asked to be hit—maybe not out loud, but in some nameless way she wasn't aware of. What if he'd fixed it so she actually needed it now?
The rabbit hopped over and sat at her feet.
'I'm fucked up,' Gillian told him.
She curled up on the couch and wept, but even that didn't scare the rabbit away. Buddy had spent a great deal of time at the children's ward at the hospital over on the Turnpike. Every Saturday, during Ben's magic act, he was pulled out of a hat that was old and smelled of alfalfa and sweat. Buddy was used to bright lights and people crying, and he was always well behaved. He had never once bitten a child, not even when he'd been poked or teased. Now, he rose onto his back legs and balanced carefully, just as he'd been taught.
'Don't try to cheer me up,' Gillian said, but all the same he did. By the tune Ben came out of the bedroom,
Gillian was sitting on the floor with Buddy, feeding him some seedless grapes.
'This is one smart character,' Gillian said. The sheet she'd taken from the bed was wrapped around her carelessly and her hair was sticking out like a halo. She felt calmer now, and lighter than she had for quite a while. 'Why, he can put on the floor lamp by jumping on the switch. He can hold this bottle of water between his paws and drink some without spilling a drop. No one who hadn't seen it would believe it. Next thing I know, you'll tell me he's litter-trained like a cat.'
'He is.'
Ben was standing by the window, and in the pale new light he looked as if he'd slept the deep sleep of angels; no one would guess how he had panicked when he awoke to find Gillian gone from his bed. He'd been ready to run down the street, to call the police and demand a search party. In those moments when he'd climbed from his bed he'd guessed he had somehow managed to lose her, as he'd lost everything else in his life, but here she was, wrapped up in the sheet from his bed. If he was honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he had a real fear of people disappearing on him, which is why he turned to magic in the first place. In Ben Frye's act, what vanished always reappeared, whether it was a ring or a quarter or Buddy himself. In spite of all this, Ben had gone and fallen in love with the most unpredictable woman he'd ever met. And he couldn't fight it; he didn't even want to try. He wished he could tie her up in his room, with ropes made of silk; he wished he never had to let her go. He crouched down beside Gillian with the full knowledge that he was the one tied in knots. He wanted to ask her to marry him, to never leave him; instead he reached beneath the couch pillow, then waved his arm around and pulled a carrot out of thin air. For the first time ever, Buddy ignored food; he edged closer to Gillian.
'I see I have a rival,' Ben said. 'I may have to cook him.'
Gillian scooped the rabbit into her arms. All the while Ben had been sleeping, she'd been dissecting her past. Now, she was through with it. She was not going to let that little girl sitting on the dusty back steps of the aunts' kitchen control her. She was not going to let that idiot who'd gotten herself entangled with Jimmy rule her life. 'Buddy is probably the most intelligent bunny in the entire country. He's so smart that he'll probably ask me over for dinner tomorrow night.'
It was clear to Ben that he owed the rabbit a debt of gratitude. If not for Buddy, perhaps Gillian would have left without saying good-bye; instead she stayed, and wept, and reconsidered. And so, in honor of Buddy, Ben fixed carrot soup the next evening, a salad of leaf lettuce, and a pot of Welsh rabbit, which Gillian was extremely relieved to hear was nothing more than melted cheese served with bread. A plate of salad and a small bowl of soup had been placed on the floor for Buddy. The rabbit was petted and thanked, but after dinner he was taken to his carrying crate for the night. They didn't want him scratching at the bedroom door; they didn't want to be disturbed, not by Buddy or anyone else.
Since then, they have been together every night. Just about the time when Gillian gets off from work, Buddy heads for the front door, and he paces, agitated, until Gillian arrives, smelling of french fries and herbal soap. The teenage boys from the Hamburger Shack follow her halfway down the Turnpike, but they stop when she turns onto Ben's street. In the fall, these boys will sign up for Ben Frye's biology course, even the lazy and stupid ones who have always failed science before. They figure that Mr. Frye knows something, and that they'd better learn whatever it is, and learn fast. But these boys can study all semester, they can be on time for every single lab, they still won't learn what Ben knows until they fall head over heels in love. When they don't care if they make fools of themselves, when taking a risk seems the safest thing to do, and walking a tightrope or throwing themselves into white-water rapids feels like child's play compared with a single kiss, then they'll understand.
But for now, these boys don't know the first thing about love, and they sure don't know women. They would never have imagined that the reason Gillian has been dropping steaming cups of hot coffee while she's waiting on people at the Hamburger Shack is that she can't stop thinking about the things Ben does to her when they're in his bed. She gets lost driving home whenever she thinks about the way he whispers to her; she's as hot and confused as a teenager.
Gillian has always considered herself an outsider, so it's been a big relief to discover that Ben is not as normal as she originally thought. He can easily spend three hours at the Owl Cafй on a Sunday morning, ordering plates of pancakes and eggs; most of the waitresses there have dated him and they get all dreamy when he comes
