Mark Powers
Rabbits
When the pan-seared pieces of rabbit reached a perfect golden brown, he emptied chopped cloves of garlic from a cutting board into the heavy cast iron pan. He inhaled the heady aroma then poured a cup of a dry white wine over it all to deglaze the tasty fragments of fat and meat. A second portion of the wine went into a glass from which he sipped while scraping the pan’s bottom, enjoying every bit of waiting for the liquid to evaporate into thickened flavor.
His wife had called an hour ago to report her safe arrival at their daughter’s Washington, D. C. townhouse. He’d be alone at home for the next several days. Her call had been short and perfunctory, and among his wife’s parting words was a reminder for him to “get that rabbit” he’d bought on impulse months ago “out of the freezer.” She wanted no part of “that nasty thing.” He’d already defrosted it. Obeying her emphatic orders would at least fill this solitary evening, the first of the even emptier nights that would follow.
His cell phone’s ring startled him. If his wife were home, he’d have let it go to voicemail. There’d been so many junk calls lately. But there might be a problem in DC. He pressed his cell to his ear. “Hello?”
“Hello. Thank you for answering.” A young woman’s voice, sounding surprised that he had answered. “My name is Jenny. How are you this evening?” The words confirmed hers was a cold call, but warmth came through her tone. Maybe she was alone too and elated to speak to a live person and not the usual answering service or machine.
“Fine.” He’d been tempted to hang up, but her friendliness touched him. He waited for the inevitable sales pitch.
“I hope you have time for a short survey. I promise it won’t take three minutes. Okay?”
Why not? It would take about that long to deglaze the pan. A cup of broth was measured and ready to add. “Sure, Jenny. Ask away.”
“Thank you. Just answer yes or no. Here’s the first question. Are you in favor of reinstituting an assault weapons ban, like the one in place from 1994 to 2004?”
“Yes.”
The questions flew by, and he found himself looking forward to hearing her attentive voice with each one.
“Final question. Would you support a national buyback program for assault weapons?”
“Yes.”
The wine in the pan had almost completely evaporated. “Excuse me for a moment please, Jenny. I’m cooking dinner and need to put you on speaker.” He wanted to ask who she worked for, so she might stay with him longer. He set the phone on the counter and poured broth into the hot pan. The boiling broth’s sizzle filled the kitchen. He opened the oven and slid the rabbit’s pan beside a pan of roasting potatoes.
“Wow! I could hear whatever you’re cooking. I haven’t talked to any men who cook.”
“Then you should talk to other men.” Cooking was an artform for him, from the visual presentation to the olfactory and gustatory responses. His wife never cared much about food except as sustenance, although early in their marriage she’d kept him company in the kitchen while he cooked. He missed those tender evenings. Lately, even while home, she seemed as far away as Washington.
“So, Jenny, who are you working for?”
“An online company. I just get the questions and a list of numbers to call. They don’t tell me who pays for the survey. It’s a second job that I can do evenings.”
“If it’s the DNC or Sandy Hook, I suspect you’ll be asking for a contribution.” Her cheerful voice in his lonely kitchen was worth a donation.
“Oh no. That’s not one of the questions.”
“Pardon my nosiness, but I’m curious. What’s your day job, Jenny?”
“I don’t mind. I’m proud to say that I teach second grade.”
“A noble profession.” And why she’s working a second job. “Do you have student loans?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” she muttered.
“Most of those I teach seem to worry about them.”
“You’re a teacher too?” Her voice was upbeat again.
“Well, I work with residents at a teaching hospital.”
“So, you’re you a doctor?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“No wonder you feel the same way I do about guns.” A deep breath in. “Imagine taking sweet little children through active shooter drills.”
“My grandson was subjected to one of those drills in his preschool…He still has nightmares about it.”
“You’re a grandfather?”
“I am. Do you have children, Jenny?”
“Heavens no! I’m only two years out of college and not even married…and no one’s even close to asking.”
“That’s something you’ll want to take your time on—to make sure you get it right.” He’d overstepped, giving a stranger such advice. “Sorry. I’m sure you know that, and you probably have other calls to make.”
“Oh I’m fine. When you live alone, it’s good to have someone to talk to. Most people don’t answer, and if they do, they hang up as soon as I start talking.”
“Folks are busy and tired this time of day.” He might have hung up if his wife were home and close by, but he wasn’t ready to let Jenny go. It was good to have someone to talk to.
“So, Dr. Chef, what are you cooking?”
“Rabbit. Something I acquired a taste for while traveling through Europe.” Joyful times with his wife—but he shouldn’t have brought up travel. Jenny probably couldn’t afford such a trip. Maybe his mistake would make her decide to hang up. “Do you like rabbit, Jenny?”
There was no answer for what felt like a long minute. Then muffled thumps like something bumping her phone and a soft sniffing sound. He must have said the wrong thing.
“Hello? Still there, Jenny?” He knelt to peek in the oven window. The broth had mostly evaporated.
“I was letting you talk to Peter, my pet rabbit.” Her voice had become distant, like she’d also switched her phone to speaker and then stepped back. “He’s my best buddy and our class mascot. The kids love him. Want to tell Peter what’s for dinner?” Her interrogation pierced him.
“I’d rather not.” He cracked open the oven, and a wave of heat struck his face. “I’m sorry Jenny, but I should get back to my cooking.”
“You wouldn’t want to burn your rabbit.”
“No, I wouldn’t.” There was nothing he could say now to keep her from also deciding to leave him. “Good-bye, Jenny.”
“Good-bye, Doctor. Enjoy your dinner.”
He pressed the end call button, and Jenny was gone.
When he pulled the pans from the oven, the irresistible fragrance of roasted meat and vegetables offered him steamy comfort. The rabbit was done to perfection, its meat falling from bones to his gentle probing. He spooned portions onto his and another plate across the table, filled two glasses with wine, and lit a candle. The first bite took him to a French bistro where his wife’s knees touched his under a cloth-draped table.
After almost forty years practicing and teaching pulmonary and critical care medicine, Mark Anthony Powers retired from Duke University as an Associate Professor Emeritus of Medicine and began his exploration of other parts of his brain. Writing, growing fruits and vegetables, and magic courses were just some of the enjoyment that followed. A deep dive into beekeeping led to his presidency of the county beekeeping association and certification as a Master Beekeeper. His previously published novels include the medical thrillers A Swarm in May, Breath and Mercy, and Nature’s Bite. His fourth novel, The Desperate Trials of Phineas Mann is scheduled for launch April 16, 2024. To learn more or connect with Mark, please visit hawksbillpress.com/.
