There was a time when Jane could fly
There was a time when Jane could fly.
She remembers the feeling of lifting off, of being held up by something light and soft yet strong, not like water, not like air— indescribable. Yet there she was, floating high above all that she had known on earth—the rooftops, the streets winding past her small town, the ice cream shop, the grocery store, the crabby neighbour, the one the kids called The Witch.
Jane remembers passing the witch's house. It was a summer day and she was walking alone.She dared to look at the witch's front door. The screen door was dark. Jane stuck her tongue out at the witch’s house. The door swung open. A woman stepped onto the porch, her face furious. “I'll tell your mother on you! I'll tell your teacher!” Her fist was raised. Jane ran fast, fast away— humiliation coursed through her veins. Her face felt hot. She ran and ran and suddenly she was up higher than the oak tree, higher than the spire on St. Mary Margaret Helen Church. She felt so light. She could do a double forward somersault, then spread out her legs like a ballerina.
She looked down to see her friend, Sandra riding her bike. She wanted to shout her name and have Sandra look up and see— her bike would wobble, her squinting face would be so funny. It was tempting, but no, it's my secret, she said and swooped higher into a fluffy cloud.
She never told anyone. She felt a little bit smug knowing she could go where no one else could go. She felt superior. She felt lonely.
I guess that's just the price I have to pay, she said.
How long do I have to pay? she wonders now as her high heels click on the sidewalk, as she boards the number four bus heading downtown, carrying her and many others—strangers— to work
to file,
to serve,
to smile,
to carry,
to answer the phone in a sing-song voice,
to eat lunch in the cafeteria,
to ride the bus home with other strangers,
to watch the sky darken—the November air cold and damp,
the street lights on,
the silent doors,
the key in the lock,
the furniture that waits for her return.
Jane remembers when she used to fly.
Written on July 2, 2020