Baggage

3.

Jane woke up. Her room that she thought she had packed was sitting where it always had been. The blinds were waving back and forth. Letting the midday sun roll through. She found herself disgusted. With herself and her smell. That moment turned into realization that her nose had unclogged. Her body no longer was sweating. Her fever had broken in the middle of the night. She was thankful for that. Knowing that she was on the mend. She had turned the corner. Still, she sat still and stale. Wondering. Waiting. For something, some change around her. But it wasn’t there. The strange dream was fading from her memory. She was forgetting the name of that nice worker that helped her and what she looked like. Forgetting all about that long conveyor belt. 

She was still sick. Still herself. She found on exploring that feeling that she was angry. The day had shed light across her little corner of the world. The mess of clutter and goods she let collect dust was here waiting for her. Not packed away out of sight as it should be. The walls made up a haven. A nice abode for someone, but was it for her? This was a fine home, she realized. It deserved a fine family in it. For her it was stupid and daft. For her it was sitting equity she manicured. Just walls full of insulation, not love. Nor respect. 

It should have laughter filling the halls, not her quiet sobs. Not mechanical keyboard strikes that sound like a woodpecker pecking at her skull. It shouldn’t be full of silly fake nature sounds, but Sunday cartoons and the flapping of the doggie door as the dog comes sprinting through it. It shouldn’t smell like poo-pourri and pinesol, but burnt pancakes. It should have been confiscated from her and put to better use. She bit her lip and snarled. 

She showered and cleaned herself of her stink and looked at the shampoo bottles stacked neatly in the corner and wondered which one to use. On brushing her teeth she forgot to count her strokes like usual. She was lost in the sonic vibrations. Thinking. Looking at herself in the mirror. Wondering. She finally decided she was down, clean enough. But she gripped on to it like it was some cliff’s edge. 

She could just put it down. Place it back on the charger exactly where she liked it. Put it right back into that perfect fitting seat with that click that was oh-so satisfying to feel. Where it was suited just right. Instead without thinking, following the last remnants of her dream she put it in her day bag, the one with the macrame owl on it. She packed it with clothes and stuff accordingly (for she had already packed it once). Even folding up the yellow sundress and placing it on top with her sunblock. 

She knew she had to be quick, as her bravery was trickling away. What could this be called, if her dream felt so real, what was she left with now? But that thought was fading too. She felt the ground under her feet as she stepped through this home that was not a home. She felt the ridges of the passport as she gathered it into her purse. Doubt was piling on her. She had enough here to live however she wanted, why let go? Why leave? 

Jane called a taxi, put her car keys on the counter top atop her pink slip for the subaru. She looked at the photo of Jacob and herself, pulled it off the fridge and kissed his stupid smiling face. Then she dropped it into the trash. She folded up the wedding invite, tucked it away. Went through her mother’s boxes in a dizzy fervor and pulled free that white stained hanky with her and her mothers initials on it. She popped open a sharpie marker and planted her middle initial in between the two letters. A for Amelia. After Amelia Earhart. She laughed at that. She planted a tack into the hanky and pinned it right there in the wall. Looking at it like it was some modern art piece. Smiling at her mark on this place. The one that mattered most. 

A horn honked outside for her and she collected her one bag and took a deep breath. Leaving everything behind. She left the house keys under the mat. When she was dropped off at the airport still feeling both giddy and terrified she did what she hadn’t ever done before. She bought a ticket, one-way.