Bunny Healing Magic: A Mystical Love Story

By Cynthia Sue Olsen

Mary is not happy with her life. She has a crummy job and a crummy boyfriend. But then a friend gives her a little Dutch bunny who seems to have magical powers. Mary stretches her consciousness with the help of trances and sensory deprivation tanks and finds herself fascinated with the new men in her life. Yes, plural. She finds herself in the middle of crime and a little mystery and things get much more interesting for Mary.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483526577

Book preview

Easter

CHAPTER ONE

MARY

The first thought she had upon waking was I could do better, I know I could. Mary felt the last fuzziness of sleep leaving her mind and suddenly recalled a dream she had of Governor Reagan sleeping at his desk while George Bushstood nearby saying I could be a good president, I know I could. She thought the dream was interesting and funny, not only because it reflected Nixon’s aspirations but it also made her think about her aspirations. Head still full of cobwebs and losing that thought really fast, Mary hauled herself out of bed and headed for the shower. Another eight hours with thirty children was coming up and she needed to be fully awake.

Mary had been working as an aide at the Sunshine Day Care Center for twelve and a half years. It wasn’t an unpleasant job, but she felt ambivalent about it. She felt that she was getting her nurturing needs met, but more and more she realized that she was not going to find her heart’s desire at Sunshine. And she was getting old, or make that older.

After laboring her way through college for eight years (the hard way – one year of school and one year of work), she received her BA in Art History with a big nut of student loans. Her obsession with art lasted about two more years working in the basement of the Los Angeles Art Museum, doing more clerical work than anything else. Mary still had a few Van Gogh and Monet posters in her apartment, but she couldn’t imagine what possessed her to believe she had a career in the field of Art History. It was just, well, interesting. More interesting than anything else, anyway. It was something she tried not to think about any more.

Standing in the shower while the lovely hot water pounded her shoulders, she looked down at her bulging stomach and wondered if it was bigger than the last time she looked. She could still see her feet. This was a ritual she performed often. Her stomach seemed to balloon while she slept and the morning chore of finding an outfit that would fit comfortably, was getting more and more difficult. After a few moments of recrimination she started thinking about breakfast.

The patience required for trying on outfit after outfit was not present this morning, so she reached for her pink elephant pants and long white smock. She ran a comb through her black wavy hair, curled her eyelashes (it helps!) before applying mascara. That and a neutral lip gloss were the last vestiges of a make-up routine that used to take twenty minutes. She could, when she was in that kind of mood, look at her face and see the pretty young girl she once was. Now there were little bags under her eyes, wrinkles, the beginning of a double chin and her hair was shot with gray. It could be worse, she told herself. But should I try harder?

Then, looking down at her baggy clothes which were so comfortable, she thought, this is okay. One good thing, if you could call it that, of being forty-two and overweight was that you no longer needed to prepare for leaving the house as if you were going to run into Robert Redford at the bus stop. Well, it didn’t have to be Redford, just any good looking man who was a possibility. Because they wouldn’t even see me. I know I am invisible now. Then after what seemed like 105 possibilities with men that all became disappointments and about 30 pounds; who cared? Looking at herself in the mirror, Mary thought five years ago I would have been nearly suicidal over this body. She wasn’t really sure if that was a good sign or not.

Later that morning at the center she read a story to Tommy that he enjoyed tremendously. Tommy was in a wheelchair because he suffered with cerebral palsy and it was a challenge to keep him amused. When he looked up at her with adoring eyes and said that was really a good story Mary, will you read me another one? she thought this job is great. An hour later she had to break up a fight between Nicole and Mike who coveted the same pink teddy bear.

Now, now she tried to say in a soothing voice, Mike, why don’t you let Nicole play with the teddy now and you can have him back this afternoon? You and I can go find some more great toys and that way we can share. Mike was not going with the flow. I hate you, you’re just a mean old fat lady he cried. He doesn’t mean it, she told herself. He’s just an angry little boy who feels slighted.

Still, when she was sitting down next to Tommy earlier she had felt her pendulous breasts (she never could get used to wearing a bra) snuggling up against the roll (first roll) below it.  It was an awful feeling. What is happening to my body, what is happening to my life, she thought, experiencing a moment of alarm. Quitting time was so far away, could she make it?

Back at her apartment she checked her answering machine when she saw the red light blinking. She pressed the message button and listened Hi Mary, this is Stan. Just calling to see how the battle’s going. Want to see a movie tonight? Give me a call. Mary knew what that meant was please go rent a video and invite me over to watch. She sighed and debated with herself, once more, the pros and cons of Stanley. He was a nice guy, companionable and somewhat trustworthy. But he had no ambition, no goals and no money. Their time together was spent at Mary’s place watching TV or videos (which she rented) and eating food that she bought and prepared.

Stan worked for Manpower, specializing in bank jobs. Which was quite ironic, because he had spent two years in the California Department of Corrections for a bank robbery he committed when he was younger. No one was hurt (he used a toy gun) and he got out on parole. It was his parole officer who got him started with Manpower. An optimistic man.

At his first interview he was asked what line of work he was experienced in and Stan answered banking. Perhaps he was taken literally, because he did get hired and Stan stood up to the test. He really did know a lot about banks.

He had been straight all these years and he had found himself a comfortable niche filling temp positions while circulating around the banks in downtown L.A. During the many times when he didn’t have work, well, he didn’t need much and he liked the time off.

The problem, as Mary saw it, was that he never aspired to anything else. He seemed comfortable with his tiny little apartment, his 1962 pickup truck and her. He accepted her totally (tactfully never mentioning her weight) and was an affectionate, easy going guy. He was cute, too. His Hispanic heritage gave him big dark eyes and jet black hair that Mary found appealing. Stan’s skinny 5’7" frame made her feel absolutely Rubinesque. Still, their bodies did seem to fit well together and he was a passable lover, not that she could be too choosey in that department. Mary remembered how excited she was when they first met nine months ago, but it didn’t last long. Now, why is that, she thought, again and again.

Well, should she follow his game plan? She felt weary and a little angry. Maybe it was time to have a talk, let him know how she felt. How many men could be interested in me, she thought. Soon I’ll be not only fat and frumpy and also forty-three.He’s a man and he’s here. Resolutely, she pushed that thought from her mind and dialed his number.

Hello

Hi Babe. How are ya?

I’m fine – kind of. I just got back from work and I haven’t recovered yet.

He chuckled. You need to take it easy Mary. Why don’t you get a video and we’ll just veg out tonight.

Vegging out, Stanley, is all we ever do. And why don’t you get the movie?

Me??? He sounded surprised. You want me to get the movie?

I know that’s a novel concept, Stan, but YES I want you to get the movie. Think of all the movies I have rented for us.

Yeah, well, I know, but I’m really broke right now. I haven’t worked yet this week.

Why the hell not, she thought, anger mounting. There was an uncomfortable silence.

Well, he began hopefully, I’ve got a Jack in the Box coupon. Maybe we could go over there and you could get us some cheeseburgers because they won’t be expensive with my coupon and we’ll bring them back here and watch TV.

Stanley, do you realize that the entire time we have been seeing each other you have never taken me out on a date?

Never?

No, never.

Well, there was that time we went out to the movies.

Yes, except that I paid for it and we took my car – actually, it was my idea. You have never called me and said Mary, can I take you out to dinner? Or anything."

How about that time we had dinner at the Golden Lion – oh, you treated that time, too, didn’t you. That was a date, wasn’t it? He laughed.

May was pissed. He didn’t seem to understand that there was a problem. Or he didn’t want to understand.

Well, I don’t feel like eating Jack in the Box food or cooking, there’s nothing on TV but re-runs and I’m going to spend the evening reading.

Aw, Mary, don’t be mad. I just want to see you.

No, Stan, I want to be alone. Let’s do dinner sometime later in the week.

All right. Give me a call. He sounded hurt.

Yeah, sure, I will. Good bye.

She put the phone down and began pacing around the apartment. Anger and guilt were competing in her mind and she felt in a turmoil. She knew his feelings were hurt, but should she feel responsible for that? It was the first time she had been honest about her feelings. In the back of her mind was the nagging thought that maybe it wasn’t the freeloading that bothered her, maybe it was just that he was so boring. Just maybe she should end this relationship. But she knew she wouldn’t. Because she did not want to be alone. Because she knew Prince Charming was not going to make it.

Chocolate, or maybe potato chips and French onion dip. That would make her feel better. It sang to her, it called to her, the impulse to drown her problems in carbohydrates pulled sweetly but with irresistible force.

I’ll meditate, she thought, maybe that will work. She sat down on the lumpy green sofa, closed her eyes and tried to center herself. Then after a few moments she thought her mantra and paused for a while and then said it over again. The familiar feeling of letting go enveloped her. She transcended down, lower and lower and felt her thoughts slowing down. Her breathing became shallow and her arms and legs became relaxed and tingled a bit.

Now she let her mind