She laughs, or tries, and the sound breaks her. She wipes her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m happy for you, I really am. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”
Mary sets her cup down, still untouched, and shifts closer, resting her forehead against Wendy’s.
“This doesn’t change us,” Mary says.
“No.” Wendy shakes her head slightly. There are tears in Mary’s eyes too. “It doesn’t.”
That’s what happens when you grow up. Wendy hears her own words to Peter come back to her, mockingly, and she almost laughs again, a bitter, broken sound.
“Hey.” Mary’s voice is soft; she nudges Wendy’s forehead with her own.
The years drop away and they’re back at St. Bernadette’s. Everything is still in front of Wendy, and for a moment, she almost wishes she could go back. How was she to know that motherhood, that loving someone as much as she loves Jane, Mary, Ned, would be far worse than anything the asylum could ever offer?
“What if she hates me forever?” Wendy asks. It isn’t where she meant to begin, but the words come out anyway.
“You’re her mother,” Mary answers, no answer at all.
When Wendy doesn’t respond, Mary draws back, rolling her eyes.
“You keep on loving her and you keep on fighting for her, because that’s what mothers do.”
Wendy’s skin warms, as surely as if she’d been slapped. Mary knows Jane nearly every bit as well as Wendy and Ned, maybe in some ways better. She’s been there since the beginning, during those first sleepless nights as Wendy paced the floor with the new weight of Jane against her shoulder, exhausted and singing lullabies. She heated milk on the stove for them both, and whispered stories when Wendy’s own voice gave out—the same stories she used to tell in St. Bernadette’s, of Blood Clot Boy and the Bear Woman and the Sacred Otter.
Wendy remembers how Mary’s eyes shone. Did Mary think of her own mother when she told them, or of her baby sister who had died as she was being born? If anyone knows what Wendy should do now, how to find the way through the rift she’s created between herself and Jane, it’s Mary.
Keep on loving her. It’s that simple, and that complicated. Love. Fight. Never back down. It’s time for her to grow up, truly. It’s time to fight for Jane, for Ned, for Mary, even for Michael and John. She will not give up until she’s found a way to make things right, undo all the hurt she’s caused in Neverland’s name.
After a moment, Mary lifts a scone filled with cream and jam, holding it to Wendy’s lips.
“What do you think? I’ve been tinkering with the recipe. I thought maybe instead of just a bakery my place could be a tea shop, too. I could put these on the menu.”
Despite herself, Wendy takes a bite, not caring that crumbs and a dollop of jam fall onto her skirt. The scone is buttery, melting in her mouth, the jam sweet but not overly so.
“Perfect.”
Mary sets the rest of the scone aside with a satisfied smirk.
If you had your choice in leaving, where would you go? Would you go back to Neverland? Mary’s words from years ago, sitting under the tree on St. Bernadette’s lawn, return to Wendy. She’d called Neverland a lie then. She thinks of Timothy’s broken body, of Peter curled beneath the weight of his shadow. The door is closed to her, but if it remained open, with the truth of it laid bare, would she return? She’d claimed to want that truth, but perhaps Neverland was better off broken, better off without her interference. She’d put it back together, but too late to save the mermaids, to save Tiger Lily. She’d stitched the pieces one to the other, but that’s not the same as healed, or whole.
Mary nudges Wendy’s shoulder, bringing her out of her reverie. At the same moment, Wendy hears the front door open, Jane and Ned returning.
Her heart beats a complicated rhythm. Mary gives Wendy a look as she withdraws, taking the tea things with her. It takes all of her will, but Wendy stands, brushing away a cascade of crumbs. Her chest is so tight, she can barely breathe. The whole house waits, holding its breath. It’s time to grow up. Past time, really.
Wendy thinks of the first time she flew, holding Peter’s hand, falling into the sky and waiting to see if the wind would catch her. It has to be the same now; she must believe that when she steps into the unknown, the love, the family, the life she’s built for herself will be there to catch her. She may have lost Neverland, but she stands to gain so much more. A life without secrets. The truth laid out between her and Jane and Ned. It is the same with Ned and Jane as it is with Mary. In order to truly choose each other, there cannot be secrets. Once Ned knows who she truly is, Wendy has to believe that he will still choose her, and they will continue to love each other as they always have. The way she chose him when he gave her the secret of Henry. It will bring them closer together than they ever were.
She can do this. Wendy Darling, the girl who learned to fly, who survived, who refused to be afraid.
Wendy lifts her chin, straightens her spine, and steps into the hall where her husband and daughter are waiting. Ned and Jane look to her, expectant, wary. Wendy tries to smile. She opens her mouth to speak, the truth gathered up and heavy on her tongue, ready to step into the sky, trusting she won’t fall.
Acknowledgments
This book started as a joke. Well, not a joke exactly, more like a “ha, ha, what if I wrote…” and I didn’t tell it to anyone but myself. But I did write a flash fiction story, because of course that is the most
