Page 26, Line 26 by Sue Heggie
Inspired by page 26, line 26 of 'Dancers on a Plane' by John Cage, Merce Cunningham, and Jasper Johns.
By Your Leave
The right-hand side of the drawing shows an arm. Just the lower part of an arm in mid-backswing, as though the person is making a quick, stage left exit, or agitatedly ready for a baton change and they’d be off.
Anna knew the feeling.
The rest of the drawing was all charcoal grey cross-hatching. Quite indifferent. It had left her to it, to get the hell out of there. Just had time to register the thin bare arm, with its vulnerable wrist. The body was out of the picture.
She wondered if the runner had had time to pack.
A passport? A photo sewn into a hem? Sexy lingerie? Dental floss? A scarf that went with everything?
She herself took sensible walking shoes and her raincoat, even a beanie. You never know what you might need.
Maybe it hadn’t been that bad. Out of the frying pan and all that. You made your bed; you lie in it. What does that even mean? If you’ve bothered to make it why lie in it again?
Still, everyone lies in bed, right?
At least her feet were warm, and her head. She pulled down her beanie and turned away.
She hoped she had done the right thing in going without so much as a by-your-leave.
But what does THAT even mean? Is it BYE or BUY or just BY?
Anyway, who knows, perhaps the owner of the arm was making a flamboyant, dramatic grand entrance, not an exit at all. She might be having her cake and eating it. Whatever that means.
Sue Heggie