Fly North || Jen & Bruce
Jennifer slid her shoes off before she stepped off the path and onto the cool lawn. She walked across the grass, a large handbag over one arm, a pair of cream-coloured Louboutins held by their tapered, red-lined heels in her other hand. She never got flowers anymore. Maybe people thought that once you gain the ability to bend utility poles, you lost your admiration for lisianthus blooms. The presence of the small purple flowers amongst the lilies and irises of the arrangement gave Jen an inkling of who was back in town even before she got to read the card.
Hey kid, meet me at Donald’s place.
Jen and Bruce had met once or twice in their early childhoods. The Banners were invited to Christmas every year, whether it was at Susan’s house, or Jen’s family home. Elaine, ever the optimist in spite of how fraught their early lives had been, really wanted to look forward into a brighter future, to create new family traditions. Unfortunately, Jen’s mother didn’t know that her older brother had very much taken after their father. Whether or not Jen got to play with her cousin at Christmastime was entirely based on her uncle’s mood in the leadup to the day.
But when tragic events led to Bruce living with their Aunt Susan, Jen began to spend every summer at their home. Sometimes, that meant a week or two in Manhattan, and there was a spot they visited almost religiously. It was a small duck pond, it had far less traffic than a number of the others in Central Park. Nine year old Bruce was far smarter than his years, but all ducks were still called Donald. Now, years later, it still felt like this little area of the park was like an epoch frozen in time, a chunk of their childhood seamlessly transported into their thirties.
Jen sat down on the bench next to the unmistakeable figure of Bruce Banner, it was reflexive for her to wait for him to initiate any hugs or physical contact. She set her shoes down beside her on the ground, and pulled a paper bag that smelled of cinnamon out of her bag. “It’s not one of Aunt Susan’s picnics, but I could smell the stand for half my walk.” She said as she offered him a hot cinnamon donut. “How have you been?” She asked by way of a proper greeting.
