Leap

by Jodi Lundgren

  From behind me, Paige said, “What makes you so sad?”

  Her question pierced me. I would have called myself a grouch, but she’d rooted out the source.

  I pivoted and crossed my arms. “We’ve just missed out on so much. We can never get back those years with Dad. It’s too late.” I sighed. “At least, it’s too late for me. My childhood is over.”

  Paige marched to the sink. “Just because we can’t go back doesn’t mean things can’t get better!” She seized the plate she’d dropped, rinsed it, and passed it to me. “Things are getting better, I know they are.” She washed on. Bowls, forks, saucers, and knives piled up in the rack. I worked hard to keep up. The sun shone so brightly, it seemed to help me dry.

  Paige’s determination won me over. Who was I to crush her hope? “You’re right. It could work out really great.” I clenched my jaw for dramatic effect. “So just this once I won’t KILL you for taking my letter! You do realize that was a terrible invasion of my privacy, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

  She hummed as she finished the dishes. Faces can’t keep secrets in the morning light, and hers didn’t look very regretful. When I caught my reflection in the window pane, I looked pretty pleased myself.

  Monday, September 27th

  When I left school today, something was missing. It took me a minute to figure out what. I walked past the line of cars in the pick-up and drop-off zone and felt—nothing. My heart didn’t pound. My stomach wasn’t churning. My palms weren’t sweating, and my knees didn’t shake. I didn’t have to check for the brown Toyota. I knew Kevin wouldn’t be back.

  I took deep breaths of good-smelling, outdoor air. My lungs swelled. I spread my arms. I owned myself again. Freedom! How sweet it felt.

  October

  Saturday, October 2nd

  When I pictured Claire and me in front of our PE class, it was obvious that pink tights and ballet-style leotards weren’t going to help us “sell” dance to the masses. “Not to be shallow about this,” I said to Claire on the phone, “but … what exactly are we going to wear?”

  “Excellent question,” she said. We were arranging to meet and plan the class. “We could always start with a little shopping to get us in the mood.”

  I needed new gear for my modern classes, anyway, so we bussed downtown to the trendy yoga store. The mannequins had been sawed in two like magicians’ assistants. A row of upper halves sported various tops, from full-torso to skimpy-bikini style. Lining the opposite wall, the bottom halves modeled pants that ranged from flared to peg-leg and floor-length to cropped. I read a few price tags and whistled. “Let’s try on a bunch and pick our favorites, then see how close a match we can find at the Bay and the second-hand store.” (I gave silent thanks to Sasha for the strategy.)

  The lineup for the change rooms belonged outside a washroom at a sold-out concert. We had to wait so long that I was about to suggest we forget it, when a familiar, dark-haired girl emerged from one of the change rooms, her arms piled high with clothing.

  “Lisa!”

  She scanned the row of shoppers, then her face broke into a smile. “Hi, Natalie! Hi, Claire!” She approached us. “How are you?”

  I’d last seen Lisa on the emergency trip to the drugstore—the one only she and Kevin knew about. “Keeping out of trouble.”

  A change room opened up and Claire nudged me.

  “You go ahead,” I said.

  Claire said, “Nice seeing you, Lisa,” and disappeared behind a curtain.

  I lowered my voice and leaned into my summer confidante. “Thanks for all your help with … you know. Everything. I got lucky, I guess.”

  “You did.” She nodded. “I’m glad.”

  “You were right about Kevin. And I’m finally following your advice.”

  “You mean you’re forgetting about him?”

  “Trying to. It’s not easy.”

  She touched my arm and smiled. “It never is.”

  I told her about Lance’s class and urged her to take it.

  “I just might.” She raised her armful of clothes. “I’ve been doing yoga, but it’s not the same. I miss moving across the room.”

  Claire stepped out to model a yellow top. The t-back showed off her strong upper body. Lisa and I gave her two thumbs up.

  A couple of hours later, Claire and I had found affordable outfits, but we still hadn’t discussed our lesson plan. I was starting to panic as we ate lunch at a sidewalk café.

  “By the time we finish eating and wait for the bus and get back home, we’ll hardly have any time left before dinner to plan the class.”

  “Calm down!” Claire said. “You’re going to give yourself indigestion. After we eat, let’s go to the legislature lawn and block out the movement. We can write up our introduction tonight.”

  “The legislature lawn?” I said, meaning, Are you out of your mind?

  “It’s just down the street, it’s public, and there’s lots of space.” Claire took a bite of her BLT. “Don’t worry. It’ll be perfect.”

  I sighed and spooned my chili. Why had I let her talk me into this in the first place?

  Claire led the way down Government Street past the Inner Harbour. As the legislature lawn came into view, so did the mass of people occupying it. Just what we needed: a demonstration.

  “Let’s go back to the bus stop.” I turned around. The thought of teaching was stressing me out enough already. Political protesters were more than I could handle.

  “It’s okay, Nat. There’s a back lawn we can use.”

  Claire did not know when to quit. “How do you know?

  “I was playing Frisbee on the front lawn with Jake this summer. A security guard came up to us and said it was fine if we played, but to please do it on the back lawn where we wouldn’t bonk any tourists on the head.”

  “Are you sure? We can’t afford to waste any time.”

  “Trust me. I want to get this figured out as much as you do.”

  We moved closer to the lawn. A podium at the front of the crowd held a microphone and loudspeakers. A reggae song by Peter Tosh was playing. A few people waved flags covered in leafy, green plants. Others carried signs that read

  Decriminalize Cannabis

  Stop Arresting Medical Marijuana Providers

  Free the Plant

  The smell of weed wafted from more than one direction. A man mounted the podium and tapped the mic. I started. He looked familiar, and, without thinking, I lunged forward to get a closer look. As he adjusted the mic, someone shut off the music.

  “Hello, all you wonderful people. My name is Jeremy, and I’m a pothead.”

  The crowd cheered, and the speaker’s smile split his face. I was sure of it now: He was Kevin’s roommate.

  “We’re gathered here today to make a public demand for the legalization of cannabis.” More cheers.

  “Nat?” Claire had followed me. “What on earth are you doing? I didn’t see you take off.”

  I turned up one palm like a stop sign and signaled “Shh” with my other hand. My eyes didn’t leave the stage.

  Jeremy continued. “We’re going to hear from a number of medical marijuana patients just how important this plant is for their day-to-day survival. We’re also going to hear from a member of LEAD: Law Enforcement Asking for Decriminalization, a group of police officers who are speaking out against the War on Drugs.”

  I would never have expected the man who drove Kevin and me to the night club last week to address a crowd in front of the Parliament Buildings. He didn’t look much different—I shifted until I could see his feet—he was even wearing the same flip-flops. But the setting made him seem important. A photographer squatted by the riser and snapped shots of Jeremy and the crowd. This event might appear in the paper. I turned around. In a sem
i-circle beyond the protestors, police officers were standing by. Despite the smell of weed, they kept their distance.

  “I thought you were in a hurry,” Claire said.

  “Just a minute.”

  “Hey, there’s Sasha!”

  “Where?”

  Claire pointed to the front of the crowd. “Let’s go say hi.”

  “I don’t know …”

  But Claire was already weaving her way towards the podium. I followed. The emcee was wrapping up his introduction amidst applause as I reached the other girls. Claire stood between Sasha and me.

  “What are you doing here?” Sasha said.

  “We were just passing by,” Claire said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m collecting signatures. Want to sign?” She passed her clipboard to Claire, who started reading the petition.

  “How did you get involved in this?” I asked. Sasha was wearing a T-shirt that was a couple of sizes too big. “Legalize,” it said. Beneath the black letters sprouted a huge green leaf.

  “Jeremy’s a friend of Kevin’s,” she said. “He asked if I wanted to help out, so I came down. Kev’s here too.” She looked past my shoulder, and I followed her gaze to the middle of the crowd. Kevin was holding a sign that said Stop Arresting Responsible Marijuana Users. A young woman had wedged herself right up against him, her breasts almost brushing his rib cage. She looked up at him and then dropped her eyelids. With his free hand, Kevin picked up a chain that hung around her neck and bent to look at it. If she’d tilted up her head, their lips would have met. My stomach twisted and I jerked away.

  I expected Sasha to gloat, but she was watching Jeremy. He noticed her and winked. She smiled and tucked in her chin, suddenly bashful. Uh-oh. That could be a dangerous crush.

  Claire had signed the petition. She tapped Sasha to get her attention and handed it back.

  “Nat?” Sasha offered me the clipboard.

  “It’s about medical marijuana,” Claire said.

  “A bunch of people are about to tell their stories,” Sasha said. “You should stay and listen.” She focused on the stage.

  My last experience in a crowd had been on Canada Day, when people had gathered for the fireworks and disbanded right away. These protesters seemed more closely knit. Maybe they gave Sasha and Kevin a sense of belonging.

  Claire tugged on my sleeve and tilted her head towards the road. “Let’s go,” she mouthed. The next speaker had already begun.

  I leaned across Claire and spoke into Sasha’s ear. “It’s really interesting, but we’ve got homework. Maybe another time.”

  Sasha shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Claire and I dodged our way back to the sidewalk.

  “I’m not going to be able to concentrate with all that going on over here,” I said.

  Claire surprised me. “Me neither.”

  We bussed back to my place and planned our lesson in the yard.

  Sunday, October 3rd

  The revving of an engine woke me up this morning. It sounded like the car was in our driveway. I checked my bedside clock: 6 a.m. What the …? I rolled over and pried the blinds apart. A hatchback was pulling out. It paused at the road, and the person driving rubbed their face, scrubbing sleep away. When they gripped the steering wheel again, I saw a woman’s face: It was Marine. Slipping away at dawn. With bed head. I plopped back down, pulled up my quilt, and fell asleep.

  This afternoon, Paige had a play date with Jessica. After Mom and I dropped her off, we walked along Dallas Road. The summer keeps stretching on this year, with endless hours of sunshine. The grass smelled sweet and dry, the wild roses still bloomed, and maple and oak leaves were just starting to turn yellow, orange, and brown. When two young women passed by holding hands, I took it as my cue.

  “I heard Marine leave this morning.”

  Mom tensed up. “You did?”

  “Her car woke me up.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I fell back asleep.”

  We walked on in silence until a collie dog barked at Mom’s ankles and circled her. She nearly tripped over its leash. The owner laughed unapologetically. I waited for Mom to disentangle herself. When we had a bit of sidewalk to ourselves, I carried on. “What I’m trying to say is, you two shouldn’t have to sneak around. It’s okay with me that you’re dating her.”

  Mom blushed and stared at the ground. That’s the beauty of broaching difficult subjects when you’re walking. It’s easy not to look at each other. And fresh air helps to dispel any tension. She didn’t say anything for a long time. People streamed by.

  Finally, during a break in the foot traffic, she said quietly, “How long have you known?”

  “Remember that night you thought I was sleeping over at Sasha’s, when you had Marine over? Paige had just left for Ontario?”

  “That long!” She looked down again.

  “I went to move the sprinkler and saw you two through the window.”

  “Oh …” she said. Then, with a start, “Oh!”

  “That was my reaction too.”

  Her cheeks burned. “I’m sorry you had to find out that way, Natalie.”

  We passed the off-leash area where dogs bounded and ran. With so much variety in size, shape, and color, it was incredible that they belonged to the same species.

  “It’s not really all that shocking, you know. What’s been hard is all the secrecy.”

  Mom nodded and folded her arms across her chest. “It’s been very … difficult for me, the way I was raised. I wouldn’t have chosen … to live this way, but, Marine is, well.… I feel very strongly about her.”

  I tried hard to think of Mom as Denise, a person with her own wants and needs. “You seem really happy, Mom. Distracted, but happy.” I wanted to add: So, I’m happy for you. But something held me back. I bit my lip. “Mom, if you’re—” I couldn’t quite bring myself to say a lesbian. So I said, “—in love with Marine, does that mean you were never really in love with Dad?”

  “No.” She didn’t hesitate. “It doesn’t mean that. I was in love with your father, but we grew apart, and now all these years later, I’ve fallen in love again.”

  “With a woman.”

  “With Marine, who happens to be a woman.”

  The worry melted away: Paige and I had been born out of love, not out of a relationship my mother settled for because she was too scared to come out.

  We were nearing the end of our walk by the time Mom asked about Kevin. All I said was, “I’m not going to see him anymore. He’s too old for me.”

  “What a relief. That’s what I always felt.”

  I stopped dead. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  She sighed and halted on the cliff, facing the sea with her hands on her hips. “I didn’t want to be the heavy-handed authority figure forbidding you from doing things. That’s how my parents acted with me. Overprotective. I figured it would just encourage you to rebel.” She dropped her arms to her sides and looked at me. “I’m sorry if I let you down.”

  “It’s okay. You didn’t really.”

  Someday, I might tell her more about what happened with Kevin. For now, I’d rather put it behind me. Maybe I’ll date someone else this year, someone my own age. But, frankly, I’m more interested in dance.

  Wednesday, October 6th

  We taught our Intro to Dance class in PE today. It wasn’t easy to win over the jocks, especially the guys. They rolled their eyes when the teacher introduced us. “C’mon, man, it’s soccer season. If we have to do a lame dance unit, can’t it wait till winter, when the weather sucks anyway?” A rugby player pointed an index finger to the top of his head, tucked his free hand into his armpit, and twirled on the spot.

  But when Claire marched to the front of the room in her yellow t-back to
p and black bike shorts, they quieted down. I tagged behind like a younger sister. How was I ever going to make it through the class?

  Sara, the red-haired girl I’d whacked in the shins with my grass-hockey stick, was shifting from one foot to the other at the side of the room. She plucked the sides of her sweat pants as if they were too tight around the thigh. She rounded her shoulders and kept her eyes on the floor. It looked like she wanted to disappear. It dawned on me that I was not the most uncomfortable person in the room. Everything changed: I had something to give.

  Claire said, “Listen up. We’re not here to make dancers out of you. That would take a lot longer than one class. And, guys, we’re not here to threaten your masculinity, either. All we want to do today is raise your level of body awareness.”

  She nodded at me. I took a breath and pitched in. “Body awareness will improve your performance in any sport.” I forced myself to make eye contact with the jocks in the back row. “And it’s the number one way to prevent injury. Most people spend hours every day ignoring their bodies, even when they’re playing sports, but especially when they’re sitting at a desk.” I listed potential injuries. “If you increase your body awareness, you’ll be alert to any discomfort or pain long before it becomes a problem.”

  We rolled out the DVD player to show a clip of modern dance soloist Margie Gillis. “Just look at how much physical control she has. Imagine what that would be like.” The dancer articulated every square inch of her body. Her limbs moved so fluidly, they appeared to have lives of their own. When I turned from the screen, the class was absorbed, for the most part. I caught Claire’s eye. It’s working!

  With the video as inspiration, Claire and I took turns leading movement from the front. The other circulated and made comments one-on-one. By the end of the lesson, the whole class did stag leaps on a diagonal, front knee bent, arms in a V. Some of the guys sprang to fabulous heights. Even Sara made it across. She didn’t lift her head or open her chest, but her feet left the ground. She cracked a smile.

  Afterwards, everyone clapped. The teacher took us aside and congratulated us. “I’m very impressed. It wasn’t just your command of the material, it was your command over the class,” she said. “It’s almost as if you’ve been teaching for years.”