Wiggling

That’s the thing about this city; it's magic. It's a conglomeration of fantasies melded into a world that she dare not leave, for fear of not finding her way back.

It's been three weeks in this city. Three weeks of utter bliss and perfection after waking up in that chair.

For once, that chair didn't have wheels.

For once, her feet moved one in front of the other, from that chair to the front door. 

It's her own little universe, where the lawn is freshly mowed, but you never hear a mower. All you hear are birds singing songs, and children playing down the street, where the swings could touch the stars, and the flowers spring back as they're trampled by little feet playing tag.

She steps on a dandelion. The pieces flow away in the breeze as it snaps back up, a new puffball in its place. A bunny runs over to examine it. She kneels down to hand him a carrot from the bag in her knapsack. Then she's off again.

A seed falls on her shirt, and she remembers to make a wish.

"I wish I never had to leave this place," she says. Every day she's made this wish. Dandelions, shooting stars, wishing well pennies. She passes the well, runs her hand along the bricks. There's a boy there today. He has a quarter.

He chucks the quarter into the well, and she hears the plop as it hits the bottom. Then there's more noise, a jingle that she recognizes from her youth. 

"Ice cream! Free ice cream!" A truck with two flat tires sits at the edge of the park, opening his back doors to a mob of children. "Get it before it melts!"

She follows the rush of the crowd, towering over the kids. Her eyes connect with a pair of blue. 

"Hi," she says, moving aside to let a kid pass with his Creamsicle. 

"Hi," he says back, holding out a Strawberry Crunch bar to her. She takes it hesitantly. One bite back home and her cheeks would puff up, her throat swell. But if this city has given her the strength to walk, maybe it has given her a clean slate?

Unwrapping the bar, she takes a bite.

It's delicious. Her eyes are letting tears loose, dripping down her face.

"What's wrong, pretty girl?" The remainder of his stash runs out, and he motions for her to sit with him. She takes a seat, wiping her face.

"I'm just so happy." 

"Well, I'm glad my misfortune made someone's day a little brighter." He nods to the flat tires. "Those nails appeared out of nowhere. Almost as if it was magic." 

She looks back to the wishing well. There's something eerily magical about this city. Not that she's complaining.

Mouth full of ice cream, she swallows. "Do you need help with that?"

"Nah. My boss is sending out help. They should be out in an hour or so." He smiles, taking a napkin off the counter. She accepts it, sheepishly wiping at her chin.

"Hold still." He runs his thumb across the tip of her nose. He sucks the ice cream off, and she blushes, hoping to blame it on the summer sun.

She thanks him, and for a moment the silence lingers. She's down to the stick now, and there's no reason to stay.

Then again, there's not a reason to leave.

"Would you like for me to wait with you?" she offers, tossing her stick at the garbage can. It clatters at the bottom. 

"I'd like that, uh..."

"Ophelia."

"Ricardo."

She likes this guy. He's given her free ice cream, and he's chattering on about the time he entered a hot dog eating contest, and how the hot dogs kept multiplying every time he'd clear his plate. 

"I'm telling you, this place is magic."

"How long have you lived here, Ric?" 

"Six months. I used to live in Minnesota, and one day I woke up here. There were so many noises. First one I'd ever heard was the ice cream truck. It was overwhelming, but there was something about drowning my fear in a Strawberry Crunch bar that made everything feel okay."

Hold up. 

"Are you, I mean, were you deaf?"

"I was. Then I came here, and everything fixed itself."

She wiggles her legs around, brow furrowed in confusion. "You're not going to believe this."

"Try me."

"I can't walk."

"Beg pardon?" He glances at her legs, still wiggling.

"Before here, I couldn't walk. Bound to a chair. Then three weeks ago I ended up here. Can't remember what I was doing before then, but I sure as heck don't want to go back." She jumps down, kicking her legs like a Rockette. It amazes her.

The help arrive, and he checks the time. It's 11:11. He tells her to make a wish.

What more could she wish for?

She wishes that he would never leave her.

The next day comes, and she is pleased to find that she is still in the city. She opens the door to find him parked outside.

"If you're going to live here, you're going to have to get a job. It's magic, not free, 'Phelia." 

What if she just wishes to never run out of money? Where is that dandelion?

"Do you ever miss your old life?" She tucks her hair into the hat he's given her. 

"I was a bit of a black sheep in my family. I doubt they miss me. Besides, it's a lot easier to get to know people when you don't have to communicate with your hands." He stops at a traffic light. "And they don't have girls like you back home."

What kind of girl was she? Back home she had been the reserved, quiet type, bound to a set of wheels. That didn't sound awfully special to her. Who had she become?

"Girls like what exactly?"

"Ones that are willing to believe in magic." He gestures to the world around them. "People pass through here, claiming that they've woken up after wishing on stars to get rid of their struggles. Most of them end up missing their families and go back home."

She thinks back to who she's left behind. Her father had left when she was a child. Her mother had died last year and left her to live with her brother and his wife, with their three kids. Sure, that was five people that would notice that she was gone, but would they care?

"Does the universe leave some sort of note in our place? Y'know, something to explain where we have gone?"

"Nobody ever comes back after they leave. I wouldn't know."

"Oh."

"Are you thinking about going back?" he asks. His voice shakes a bit, and he pulls over, turning on the jingle.

She opens her door and hops down, landing on a dandelion. The seeds scatter.

"I wish I would never have to leave."

Maybe this city does exist. Or maybe it doesn't, and she's stuck in some sort of magical dreamland, floating between life and the great beyond. That's the thing about this city. No one has a clue how or why, and that's alright.

Because some girls still believe in magic.