“Yes, you are.”
“I’m just… ruminating.”
“I see. What about?”
They often sat like this, when Dash was off with friends or something. Gus could be energetic, laughing with Dash, or he could be quiet and introspective, which was soothing to Dot. Sometimes, when Dot stayed in her room rather than attempting to play catch with the two of them, she secretly watched him through the window, fascinated by the lines of his body as he threw the ball. In tranquil times like this, she felt warmed by his presence. He never teased her, and he seemed genuinely impressed when she shared something she found interesting. He made her feel important, not self-conscious. So she asked him her question.
“Why am I the way I am? So meek. So scared. Nobody else is like this.”
He held her gaze. “You are whoever you choose to be. You could change if you want, or you could be satisfied. Either way, I’ll always love you.”
Dot would never forget his answer or the way he’d said it. His words had eased her mind in so many ways. Maybe everyone’s response had been right after all.
A red-winged blackbird called from outside, his buzzing song breaking Dot’s morning reverie. It had been a while since she’d last sat on the old stump beside her sister’s tree, and it felt like where she needed to be just then. She made her bed then headed downstairs and grabbed a coat from the cupboard. Only after she’d finished doing up the buttons did she notice it was Dash’s favourite.
Outside, the grass was still wet from last night’s rain, but the sky was clear. Dot brushed the damp surface of the stump clean, then she took up her childhood seat. For years she had swung her feet from here, unable to touch the ground. These days the stump seemed so small.
One summer, her mother had led Dot, Dash, and Gus on a hunt for monarch caterpillars. At her direction, they filled jars with leaves and grass then popped one bright yellow and black worm in each. They twisted on the lids, into which her mother had poked breathing holes, and set them on their windowsills. Within a few days, each caterpillar had climbed the glass walls to the lid and begun to form a chrysalis. Gus announced his worm’s progress at breakfast, Dash was mesmerized, and Dot took notes. For the next two weeks or so, they watched in wonder as the chrysalis underwent changes in colour and shape. Then the shell began to peel away, and tiny black legs curled around the edges. With no apparent effort, the creature pulled loose of it, revealing to the world a new, beautiful form.
Dot had spent eighteen years in her own chrysalis. She liked it in there. Until the war had come along, she’d never really thought about leaving it. But with all the changes going on around her, she wondered again what was wrong with her. She felt certain she should have outgrown this anxiety by now. The bravest thing she had ever done was to become a teacher, though only of a small group. She enjoyed doing something worthwhile with her brain, and it gave her confidence when she heard the children improve. But she’d been scared stiff to try anything beyond that.
The autumn wind stirred the leaves overhead, knocking some off, and a couple landed on Dot’s coat. The monarchs were all gone, havingflown south for the winter. Dot had never understood how they did that, flying through the wind and storms on their tissue paper wings. She’d love to see the migration in motion, all those tiny beings brave enough to cross the continent like that.
Maybe that’s what Dash felt like, heading off to join the Wrens.
She shivered, imagining her sister on the streetcar in the middle of Toronto, surrounded by strangers. She’d be excited, perhaps a little nervous about doing something new, but mostly she’d be eager. Had Dot ever felt like that? Impatient to face the unknown? No, never. Did she want to?
She took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind. Even just thinking this way filled her with anxiety.
Dash would soon be leaving, joining other butterflies on an enigmatic journey. Dot would still be here, all alone, curled up in her warm, safe chrysalis. What would it take for her to peel back the shell and climb out, she wondered, then spread her nervous little wings and see if she could fly like her sister?
eightDASH— Oshawa, Ontario —
Dash didn’t head straight home after her medical. There was one place she wanted to go first. The sky was blue, the autumn air still. A perfect day to soar. The last time she and her uncle had been on the field, they’d received the news about Fred. She hadn’t flown in the weeks since then, and she suspected it was the same for Uncle Bob. She wasn’t sure how he would take her arrival and request, but she hoped it might help them both.
Aunt Lou was sitting on their front porch swing, knitting something in grey.
“Margaret.” She smiled softly. “It’s good to see you. I suppose you’ll be leaving soon.”
Dash nodded. “I’m just waiting for the letter now. I’ll miss you both.”
Aunt Lou set her knitting on her lap. “We’ll miss you, too.”
“How’s Uncle Bob?”
“He’ll be all right one day. We all will.” She placed a hand on Dash’s forearm. “He’ll be glad to see you, sweetheart. Go on in. I think you’re just what he needs right now.”
Dash arranged a smile on her face and breezed into the living room, where her uncle sat in his old yellow armchair, reading a book. He’dstopped waxing his moustache and had trimmed it to something more mature. Dash thought it made him look hollowed out. Old.
“I passed my medical exam for the Wrens today. Turns out I’m perfect,” she told him. “I’m just about ready to go.”
“Of course you are. Perfect, I mean,” he said. “Best mechanic around. Soon to be the best pilot, too. The navy is lucky to have you.”
“I won’t be flying, but I hope you’re right about the mechanical stuff. I figure I’ll be working in Toronto, since a mechanic isn’t about to be shipped overseas. Especially a girl mechanic. That’s all right. I just want to be busy.” She gestured toward the airfield. “Think we could fly today? I’d really like to go up one more time before I leave.”
She saw the indecision in his eyes as he gazed out at the field, where the windsock hung limply against its pole.
“Yeah. Let’s go,” he said at last, his voice a little husky. Halfway to the field, he patted her shoulder. “You take me up, kiddo. Start to finish.”
