Page 21 of Flying

I glance at Grant again as he blinks like a deer in headlights. The awkward silence lingers before a chilling grin stretches across his face. I’m freezing despite the broken AC and 80? weather. I know that look of his well and nothing good follows it. A trail of sweat leaks down my calves from behind my knees, but shifting makes my thighs stick uncomfortably to the pleather seats. Clammy palms, stomach rolling over, my desire to flee has not been this strong in ages, but now I remember so much more of why I wanted out.

He won’t hurt me, physically, but he’ll aim to cut me down,I remind myself while trying to breathe deeper.

Before he can speak, a gust of patchouli and Palo Santo air breezes over us as someone drops into the third seat in our row. Paisley sheer fabric brushes my side and tickles my face and arm.

Prudence Cleary, the Peacock Springs tea shop owner and tarot reader, gives a husky laugh. Between the Puritanical name and infrequent but very noticeable use of odd and outdated phrases, the kids of Peacock Springs have questioned if she is truly a 300-year old witch for as long as I can remember. The fact that she has beautiful dark umber skin with an undertone as warm as her personality, and only a few soft wrinkles, adds to the allure. Pru was a favorite of mine, having spent hours in high school around her tea and occult shop.

Her arrival helps to cut the tension momentarily. As she digs through her oversized tote, things fly into my lap with a casual, “Hold these, will you dear?”

I’m grasping a large pink crystal, a vial of essential oils, a screen printed T-shirt, at least three mini bags of salt & vinegar chips, and a well worn spellbook. Finally, she pauses. Giving a triumphant flourish as she produces a journal and a pen.

“I knew I was going to need to be on this train today! Did I know why? Of course not. Didn’t even know why I was called to New Yorkthis morning, but I follow where the spirit takes me. She must have wanted to capture this for the town, we’ve wondered what would happen if there was a reunion.” Pru clucks cheerfully.

Stunned into silence, neither of us takes the lead so she prods along. “Go on, go on. Don’t allow me to rudely interrupt.” As she cackles, I slowly pull open her tote to return her items into the overflowing interior.

I hope to move things away from the uncomfortable reunion, letting out an anxious giggle before wrapping my arms sidelong around Pru. “What sort of witchcraft are you professing now?”

Pointedly looking past me, Pru says, “Grant, we knew that Stef and Lee getting engaged and having so much festivity around town could bring you and Lily face to face. Is this the first you’ve seen her? Have you reached out at any point over the last decade?”

Well, if he’s in the hot seat, maybe this will be okay.

Slack jawed, Grant coughs out, “Nn..n..n..n.. No. Oh, Lily. I didn’t. I was such an idiot. A total child. So immature.” He is desperate to appear mature, but there is a sneer to his words.

Pru tuts her tongue, shaking her head, but he just shrugs. He’s searching my face like he’s waiting for something from me.

After all these years, he cannot even pretend to apologize?I’ve tried every spiritual and physical exercise to release the trapped anger, but still the emotion lingers. It didn’t matter if I shouted to my windshield, scribbled an angry letter and left it in a book, burned it in a campfire, or meditated with swamis.

He humiliated me and I’m treated like the bad guy.

Pru looks at Grant again and says, “Child, you will do better than that. This girl was run out of her home because of your inability to keep your willy in your pants. Apologize. The town may have tried to blame her but I am too old to be so naive.”

Interjecting, he tries to charm her and turn the heat off himself, “Old? What are you, forty? Forty-five?”

Another hearty cackle flows from her.

Since I hate this subject too, I blurt out, “Whatever it is that you’ve done, keep it up, I need that skin tincture. I’ll swing by.” Then I look at my hand, the tiny bottle she handed me earlier is back in my palm. Label side up, it reads Boy Tears.

“Grant, I’m so glad you realize you were not mature then. While you did not actually apologize for humiliating me, it’s good to know yourself.” Warmth radiates through my body. This isn’t the kind that comes from the early September heat. Is this pride in the face of a challenge? Like when I finally mastered the crow pose? My lips twitch as I suppress the emotions momentarily to continue, “Grant, come on man. Did we get married too young? Of course. But you cheated. That’s on you. Only you. You had zero consequences and let everyone villainize me. They literally wanted to throw me in the stocks! At no point did you even try to come to my defense, you hurt me. Badly. For many years.”

His grin takes on its most sinister form, as his brows knit and his eyes narrow. I work to ground myself by feeling the bottle from Pru. There are fragments in it, if I move my hands it will clink against the glass. I hear it. Rolling the glass, I feel it. I watch the clear liquid slowly move inside and think,I see it. There, three senses. I’m not going to taste or smell it here. But I’m coming back to my body. Present. I can still feel his cruel response brewing, like a change in air pressure.

“Lily, that’s completely ridiculous, but that’s why you weren’t smart enough for college. You should know by now, you only get one set of parents and your little anger issues,” he tries to touch my hair and I flinch, retreating towards Pru, “those are your fault. You pretend to be so high and mighty, but you flew off the handle and went flying out of town instead of accepting the consequences of your actions. You. Embarrassed. Yourself.”

I want to punch him in his smug little rat face. He is getting a rise out of me, baiting me like he always could. The train lurches into a hard stop—we’re at the first station. I’m twenty-eight and I do not owe him anything. All he owes me is no further intentional harm. The conductor announces the next stop is further into the state because this is an express train, and we speed off. I’m burning up, completely engulfed in flames because of Granteat meMorgan, again. Except this time, I’m sober.

I am in control, and when the train rocks into the next station I snap, “I also had only one appendix. When it was infected I had themcut it out. Toxicity becomes septic and kills. I’m not swallowing anyone's poison again.”

I gather my things, and turn to Pru. “Do you want a ride? I parked at the next stop earlier.”

She waves me off. I rise, looking him square in the eyes, I take my moment.

“Grant, you do not get to define anything about my life. Past, present, or future. Did I do things I regret? Of course. I won’t confuse forgiveness with permission to repeatedly harm me. I am not sure why you would underestimate my worth. I don’t need your apology.” Glancing at Pru I soften into a sincere, “But thank you, Pru. Truly, I know I deserve the apology here.”

“Grant, pretend you don't know me the next time you see me. You will see me. I’ll be back in Peacock Springs, because I’ll be damned if I let you chase me away ever again.” I turn my back on my ex-husband hoping to never look at his greasy head of hair or hisstupid faceever again.

Dashing from the train car, down the stairs, across the lot, I hop in the Jeep.My Jeep. The only thing I took in the divorce. I drive until I reach the banks of the Delaware River and find a low pedestrian bridge.

Sitting with my legs swinging freely, I pump music through my headphones and let it infuse itself to my soul. Water glides over rocks, grass, trees, the sun high in the sky it all splashes color and life. I steady my breath, it reaches a meditative rhythm. My thoughts flow like the water, when the music is interrupted by the internal AI reading a text message.

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