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Jane wonders what it’s like to let her feelings fly free.
Slumped in her study desk, head resting on her left arm, Jane stares at her pet sparrow beside her as it rustles its feathers.
“Hey,” she whispers, tapping the birdcage with a knuckle, “do you ever dream of… escaping this iron cage that stops you from seeing the whole world?”
The bird didn’t reply – of course it didn’t. It couldn’t. After all, it was only a mere, tiny creature that Hopper captured for the sole reason of keeping his daughter company while he’s away for duty. It could only fluff its wings and chirp, nothing more. Jane giggles, feeling a little foolish for asking a bird such an absurd question.
“Of course you don’t. You like it here with me, don’t you?” She taps the cage once more.
Jane wasn’t at all lonely. She has friends, lots of them. Mike and Will from theater class, Dustin from the science investigatory club, Lucas whom she shares two classes with; one she didn’t even plan on taking, and Maxine, her best friend – her everything.
Maxine is in the school’s marching band and she plays the trombone alongside Jane. That was where they first met. Jane was quiet and introverted; Maxine was popular and outgoing. They are polar opposites and yet they still work.
Looking back on her first day of band practice, Jane remembers standing in a corner like a wounded fawn, hugging her trombone case against her chest as she wished that someone, anyone, would come by and talk to her. None of her bandmates ever threw a glance her way. So she thought of ditching the place and never coming back.
But before Jane could turn around and leave, the gods did finally grant her wish, and an angel fell from the sky in the form of Maxine Mayfield. She had beautiful ginger hair that stood out in the gymnasium full of blondes, ravens, and brunettes; as well as blue, knowing eyes that seemed to bear the whole universe.
Jane wasn’t able to name what she felt when Maxine first approached her, but if anyone would ask her again, she’d tell them that the experience was something akin to drowning, and she finds herself completely at ease with the thought of sinking over and over again.
“Hey, you’re Jane Hopper, right? The new recruit? I’m Max, Max Mayfield. Want me to show you around?”
To Jane, the world ends and begins with her best friend. Best friend. Best friend.
The telephone rings suddenly, pulling Jane back down to earth. She runs to the living room frantically, almost knocking her chair down, slamming her bedroom door open. Maxine had promised to hang out with her later this afternoon, saying she’d bring nail polishes and up-to-date magazines. The grin apparent on Jane’s face was full of tenderness as she brought the receiver to her ear, waiting, waiting, and waiting. It’s been a while since she last saw her favorite friend.
“Hello?” she whispers, her forefinger tapping on the phone’s handset.
There was static, then a muffled voice. Jane says hello again, stretching the word out until it thins, her voice even more blissful.
“Jane? Hi!” The voice from the other line finally got through. “This is Max. I called to ask you what color of nail polishes I should bring. So, what do you have in mind?”
Jane smiles, so wide she wonders if Maxine could sense her ecstasy through the phone. She hums, twirling the cord with her finger, “Maybe purple? And red too. Or maybe just bring every nail polish you have?”
Maxine laughs, and something warm and bittersweet blossoms inside Jane’s stomach. This happens a little too often recently, especially when she’s around her friend – best friend – but Jane tries to shake the thought away. Maybe it’s the day-old eggos she ate this morning that’s starting to kick in her system.
“Alright,” Maxine replies, “I’ll bring every color I have here at home.”
For a moment they both stopped talking; the frequent static from the telephone tries its best to overthrow the painful silence – painful, at least for Jane. The bittersweet feeling in her stomach grows bigger. Almost unbearable. And if she could pull Maxine by the hand through the receiver, she would, just to ease the pain.
I can’t wait to see you.
I want to see you.
I need to see you.
Jane’s words died somewhere in her sapless throat.
“See you soon then?” Maxine’s tittering as she speaks, mellow and smooth. For a brief second, even though it sounds absurd, the thought of trading everything she cherishes just to hear Maxine laugh a little longer flickers in Jane’s mind. But instead of doing so, she sucks a breath, holding it in for a heartbeat, before releasing it as a soft sigh.
She nods, a smile tugging both corners of her lips still, hair rustling with the movement. “See you, Max!”
Jane feels another pang – on her chest this time – the moment Maxine hangs up the phone. The constant ringing of the dead line lingers in Jane’s head, and she can’t seem to bring the telephone back on the hook.
“See you,” Jane whispers the last time, lips pressing against the mouthpiece, loud enough for the early summer cicadas to hear. Looking at a distance out the crooked window of their living room, Jane wonders why the morning seems to feel so long.
⋆ ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 ⋆˚࿔
“Have you ever kissed anyone, Jane?" Maxine’s the one to ask the question.
Jane is currently holding a bottle of dark purple nail polish while Maxine paints the nail of her left pointer finger, ginger hair falling on her own face as she leans over the brunette’s hand, trying her best to color inside the nail bed. She seems pretty unbothered by her question; a big contrast to Jane and her heart ramming violently against her ribs.
Jane takes the sight of her best friend sitting cross-legged in front of her, biting her lower lip as she concentrates. She blinks – once, twice – trying to process Maxine’s sudden query while being too aware of the warm fingertips underneath her own.
“Uhm, no,” she watches as Maxine proceeds to paint the nail on her middle finger. “Why’d you ask?”
Maxine hums to herself, wiping the corners of Jane’s nail bed with her thumb when the brush slightly goes over the lines. “No reason in particular. Just curious.”
A strip of the afternoon sunlight enters the room, highlighting the blues of Maxine’s irises when she raises her head and meets eyes with Jane. Between the heat and the softness of her best friend’s gaze, it takes a second for Jane to find her breath.
Just curious. Sure. Whatever that means. But Jane repeats it in her head much like a broken record. The bittersweet feeling bursts in her stomach once again, and she’s confused as to why it only happens when Maxine’s standing along her radar.
“Do you have someone you like then?” Maxine asks another offbeat question, and this time, Jane reacts with her entire body.
“Ah— sorry,” she murmurs, watching as Maxine reaches for the tissues to wipe the polish off of her ring finger.
“It’s alright,” Maxine reassures her. “I’ll just redo it, no problem.”
Jane purses her lips.
It’s only a lighthearted inquisition – girl friends tend to ask each other these types of things when they spend time with each other – and Jane’s supposed to act like it’s normal. But she… is normal. So normal. Really normal.
Okay, normal. Jane stifles a breath.
“So? Your answer to my question?” Maxine pushes, staring right at the latter’s eyes as before, waiting expectantly for her to say something.
Jane just shrugs, trying to ignore the slight tremor in her chest, and looks away. “No, not really. I don’t— I don’t think I like someone.” Not really. Not really.
“Not really,” Maxine echoes, smiling as she blows gently on the wet polish. She then grabs Jane’s right wrist and proceeds to paint her nails with the same dark purple polish from before.
Jane holds her left hand out, letting it bask under the soft glow of her open window, fingers spread apart as she admires the purples on her nails. “What about you?” she says suddenly, returning her gaze to Maxine’s bright, ginger hair. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”
She questions why her own words taste bitter on her tongue. Heavy. Nasty.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did,” she adds, her voice meeker than a whisper. Jane curses herself for letting those words slip out of her mouth. It’s like adding salt to an open wound. But in this case, the said wound is still eluded from her sight.
Jane wonders if it’s jealousy. She grimaces at the thought. Though why would she be jealous of Maxine kissing somebody? It shouldn’t matter. They’re just friends. Best friends. Yet… the thought of someone’s lips pressed against Maxine’s is just…
Too much to handle?
What an irrational thing to think about.
Maxine pauses for a second, then bursts out laughing, her breath warm as it ghosts over Jane’s knuckles. She dips the brush inside the bottle of polish Jane’s still holding, smoothes it over the edge to get rid of the excess, and carefully runs it through the brunette’s thumb nail.
Jane bites the inside of her cheeks, bracing herself for whatever’s coming for her.
“Sorry to burst your bubble but—” Maxine raises her head, “—no, I haven’t kissed anyone.”
Jane, upon meeting Maxine’s eyes, releases a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. She feels the weight of the world slipping off her shoulders, and the bitterness on her tongue gradually fades away.
“Oh,” she smiles, for the first time during their whole conversation. She feels relieved for some reason.
Silence settles between them; the noise of the cicadas outside and the chirps of the sparrow fills the room instead. Jane watches as Maxine finally finishes painting her right pinky finger, a heavy question hanging on the tip of her tongue;
Do you have someone you like, then?
Jane leans a little closer until the smell of Maxine’s berry shampoo fills her nose; ginger hair glistening as sunlight trickles over the both of them, warm and comforting. Jane doesn’t ask her question – she doesn’t want to. Instead she closes her eyes, leaving everything as it is.
She really doesn’t want to know the answer to that.
⋆ ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 ⋆˚࿔
Jane dreams of Maxine that night.
And in it, Maxine’s flushed against her as they lie underneath the silver moonlight, their faces a hair’s width away from each other. The softness of Maxine’s skin, the warmth of her breath, the plump of her lips — Jane takes it all in.
“Have you ever kissed anyone, Jane?” Maxine asks, her voice thick and sultry – different from how the real Maxine had asked her a few hours ago, playful and sweet – and Jane goes rigid at the question. She quickly turns her head away. One moment they were in an open field, the roundness of the moon in full display. But the second Maxine hovers over her, the moonlit horizon collapses inward, replaced with the familiar walls of Jane’s bedroom.
The bed creaks under both their weights.
Ginger hair falls onto Jane’s face; blue, knowing eyes staring right through her own hazy browns. She holds her breath, counting to five, and when Maxine doesn’t fade away, a quiet sigh slips from her lips.
“Hey,” Maxine whispers, gently lifting strands of the brunette’s hair off her cheeks and tucking it behind her ear. “Answer me, Jane.”
Jane shudders underneath the latter, a full-body tremble. She’s fully aware that it’s a dream – such a stupid one at that – but the sensation of Maxine’s fingertips brushing against her cheeks felt soft and summery and real. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she slowly reaches out a hand to caress Maxine’s rosy cheek, ever so lightly, like she’s the most fragile thing – as if she’d disappear if Jane touches her a little too roughly.
Maxine leans into her touch, eyes fluttering close as she did.
Soft, and summery, and real.
Jane’s chest swells in anticipation.
Her gaze strays from Maxine’s eyes to her nose, to her cheeks, then her lips. Jane sucks a breath, fighting back a sudden urge to lean closer, to hold her, to touch her, to kiss her pretty red lips until she knows the feeling like the back of her hand.
“Jane?”
To kiss her.
“Hmn?”
To kiss Maxine.
“Your answer to my question?”
She wants to kiss Maxine.
“Oh.”
Jane swallows a gasp, and all of a sudden her bedsheet slowly morphs into something else once more. Cotton cloth turns into waves – gentle, moonlit waves – pulling them under and swallowing them both into the deep indigo waters.
They keep sinking and sinking until the ceiling of Jane’s bedroom is swallowed by darkness. And through the murky waters, even though it’s difficult to see, Jane looks, really looks – as if seeing Maxine for the very first time – taking in the shape of her almond eyes tilted slightly downwards, the freckles scattered across her skin, her perfectly molded cupid’s bow.
The freezing saltwater fills Jane’s lungs as she lets go of her last breath.
“Do you feel like dying?” Maxine says all of a sudden as she swims a little toward Jane, her voice muffled, bubbles floating up the surface. She slides a hand to the brunette’s chest, palm pressing warmly over her heart.
“It has stopped beating, Jane.”
Jane holds Maxine’s gaze, her gentle, gnawing gaze, before she reaches out and rests her hand atop of the latter’s chest too. Unlike hers, Maxine’s heart thrummed with a steady rhythm, filling the void of her own useless weight in her ribs. Falling into the ocean, Jane thinks, is no different to losing herself in Maxine’s eyes. And to sink here, in this quiet darkness with her, feels less like dying and more like finally letting herself free.
She shakes her head in reply.
“Then, me too—” Maxine laughs as she leans closer.
“—I feel alive when I’m with you.”
Jane wakes up the moment they try to close the distance.
It’s still dark when Jane sits up, gasping for air. The beads of sweat forming in her temples felt hot and heavy against her cold skin. The same bittersweet feeling crawls up her throat when the image of Maxine close to her, closer than she had ever been, flashes before her eyes.
Jane doesn’t get why it’s so bitter to think of Maxine that way. Because Max is so pretty to look at, so pretty to watch, so pretty to fall in lo—
Then it reaches her tongue. Jane clutches her stomach, lips pursed, before leaping off her bed. The glow of the television intrudes her room when she bursts out her bedroom door.
Upon reaching the bathroom, Jane falls to her knees almost immediately, knuckles white as she grips on the toilet seat. The violent sound of her throwing up everything echoes against the porcelain walls, a phantom taste of sea salt still clings to the back of her throat.
It’s bitter. It’s disgusting. It’s terrifying. She’s—
“Are you sick?”
Hopper, who was awakened by the sudden sound of the door colliding with the wall earlier, stood in the doorway, arms crossed, with an uneasy expression plastered on his face. But Jane did pay no mind to his worry. She wipes the corners of her mouth, the taste of bile is still raw on her lips.
“I’m not, dad. I’m fine.”
She’s not sick at all.
⋆ ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 ⋆˚࿔
Jane stands in a corner of the gymnasium, hugging her trombone case.
It’s the end of the day and the band rehearsal ended an hour ago. Jane’s waiting, waiting, and waiting, for Maxine who’s beside her where she stands, waving goodbye to the new members by the door. Her restless thumb digs into the edge of her index finger, flaking the purple polish off her nails bit by bit.
“Yeah, I hope to see you tomorrow as well!” Maxine exclaims, smiling to the recruits – the kind where her lips barely move, but her eyes grin.
Jane finds herself watching the latter, gaze tracing the gentle slope of her nose, the curve of her sunlit cheeks, the shape of her lips. She wants to reach out, to melt the distance away between them. Just like in her stupid, stupid dream. To walk closer, just a little closer, just a little more—
“Hey, you okay?”
Jane flinches, taking a step back. Now in front of her, Maxine dips her head to the side, the same smile lingering on her eyes still. Jane gives her trombone case a little squeeze. She had been coping well this morning, given what had happened last night, so why is her mind going through a relapse so suddenly?
Jane shuts the thought down and scrapes the last of the polish off her nail.
“No— yeah, uhm—” she pauses, looking at Maxine, and the bittersweet feeling punctures through her stomach again. A ghost of a smile tugs at her lips as she tries to push the feeling down.
“— I’m fine. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep getting to me,” she excuses so easily, waving a hand in dismissal.
“You sure? You’ve been out of it since this morning,” Maxine says, entwining her arm with Jane’s.
“I’m sure and I’m fine, Max.”
“Fine enough for ice cream?”
“Of course!”
Maxine chuckles, leaning in to press her shoulder against Jane’s; their heads bumping, their ears brushing.
“Then I’ll buy you your favorite one.”
Jane feels like throwing up again.
“Hey, I didn’t know you were friends with Jane. It really is a small world,” Lucas is laughing as he talks, taking a spoonful of ice cream and lifting it to his lips. Maxine, who’s sitting across from him, smiles. Warm. Starry. Fond. The honeyed light of the late afternoon highlights the subtle pinkness of Maxine’s ear.
Jane catches a glimpse of it and immediately lowers her gaze, idly picking at her melting strawberry ice cream. Her friends continue their small exchange, talking about anything at all. The way Lucas’ gaze lingers on her best friend, and how Maxine is glowing as she tilts her head while talking, ponytail following her motion.
It seems that Jane is not the only one to notice this.
It makes her sick.
So sick.
“I’ll head to the comfort room real quick,” she smiles, strained and weary, before stepping out of the booth. Maxine’s eyes follow her drooping shoulders, worry etched on her face.
“Want me to come with you?” she says, but Jane was too quick to disregard her concern. I’m fine, Max, she replies, though she can already feel it creeping up her esophagus. Jane excuses herself once more and hurries to the nearest restroom, gripping her stomach much like how she did last night.
Maybe it is jealousy. Maxine had never looked at her that way. Maybe once, in a dream, though it’s nothing compared to how she bats her eyes when Lucas mentioned about joining the school band next year. But Lucas hasn’t done anything wrong. And to Maxine, she was nothing more but a friend.
Bitter. Terrifying. Disgusting.
Jane is.
In a hurry to throw up all the sickness out of her body, Jane doesn’t notice the other person washing their hands on the far end sink when she throws the restroom door open. She stands in front of the mirror, her hands loosely gripping the edges of the porcelain sink, throat dry and stomach burning. Why can’t she just be normal? Why can’t she be like Lucas who’s patient and kind and outgoing and well?
Then a warm and gentle hand rests atop of hers, another patting her back softly. “Shit— are you feeling sick? You’re kinda pale.”
Jane quickly turns around. It was Robin, looking at her with deep, quiet worry. Apart from being a friend who works at their usual ice cream parlor, Robin is also Jane’s upperclassman and the lead brass player of the school band. And instead of walking away in shame, Jane moves a little closer and wraps her arms around the older’s waist, warm tears falling on the apples of her cheeks. She’s crying, but she doesn’t weep. She wishes she didn’t feel so deeply. She wishes—
“— I never dreamt of her like that.”
Jane’s voice was broken, strained and scraped raw from the burn of her chest. Robin, understanding this more than anyone else, lets the younger stain her work shirt with the weight of her tears.
“It’s alright,” she whispers, voice muffled against her hair. “You’ll be alright.”
But Jane doesn’t think so.
⋆ ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 ⋆˚࿔
“I think I like him. Lucas, I mean,” Maxine says quietly. “I know I just met him but— but something just clicked inside of me, you know?”
Jane trails behind her, watching as the evening breeze runs its fingers through her ginger hair. Maxine kicks a leaf off the pavement, Jane does too. Maxine swings her trombone case with every step, Jane follows as well. She’s only two paces behind. Jane could walk with Maxine side by side if she wanted. But she chose not to.
The two of them didn’t dare say anything for a while, the fading drone of cars drifting past by breaking the silence.
Then, with a deep breath; “How did you know that you really like him?”
Jane’s voice was akin to when she was in one of the mall’s restroom; small and choked-back. Maxine doesn’t seem to notice this. Jane watches her as she hops onto the narrow ledge of the roadside flowerbox, her body swaying lightly as she tries to balance herself.
“Let me think of something,” Maxine replies, smiling to herself even. “Maybe it’s in his eyes. Lucas has pretty eyes, don’t you think? And when we talked, it seemed like… he was holding the whole universe behind those brown eyes,” Maxine turns to her, “Does that make sense?”
But do you feel like drowning when you look into his eyes? Do you feel like surrendering your very breath just to look into them for the rest of your life? Do you feel bitter? Suffocated? Sick even?
Jane swallows back her words, not wanting to say another thing or two. Scraping the last of the polish off her thumb nail, she takes a step forward, then another one, until she’s right beside Maxine. She offers a steadying hand, and Maxine takes it with no hesitation.
“Thanks,” she says with a laugh.
“Mhmn,” Jane returns a grin.
Jane can’t bring herself to look away.
Between the noise that passes them and the pitch of Maxine’s laughter, Jane couldn’t help but feel like she’s running out of air. Is it always going to be this way forever? She stays on the sidelines, watching her friend fall in love countless times, knowing she’d love Maxine that way she wants to if she would just let her.
Maxine will fall in love with Lucas’ eyes over and over again. In perpetuity. And Jane would be by her side, admiring hers as the evening sun shines over them, all while drowning in a love she knows will never be returned.
“Hey,” Maxine says all of a sudden, leaning close to Jane’s hand. Another breeze passes through them, threading through the strands of their hair. Jane can feel the rush of cars dying away, the sound of her rapid heart dulling everything else.
“What have you been doing with your nails? There’s barely any polish left.”
Jane pauses, sucks a breath, then breaks into laughter.
“That’s it?” She says, clutching her stomach as she giggles, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Her expression is teetering between a smile and a restrained sob.
“I seriously have no idea if you’re laughing or crying, Jane,” Maxine deadpans, before softening into a smile of her own. She reaches out to wipe a bead of tear off Jane’s cheek. “Are you okay?”
Jane wipes her eyes with the palm of her hand, but tears continue to fall regardless. “Sorry I’m— I’m fine.”
As they stop at the neighborhood intersection where they say their goodbyes before going their separate ways, Jane pulls Maxine into a tight hug.
“What’s this about?” Maxine says, laughing as she wraps her arms around Jane.
“Nothing,” Jane shakes her head, “just— just let me— just a little longer.”
Melting under the warmth of Maxine’s touch, Jane wonders if she could ever learn how to let her feelings fly free.