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OOM: Visit to Toronto
It's been so long since she called her sister that she has to look up the number.
It's a wonder Kim doesn't decide it's a prank call and hang up, in the silence that stretches between "Hello?" and "It's Meg."
It's a very short conversation; Kim was right, this isn't the sort of thing you discuss over the phone.
It's an understatement to say that John and Deirdre Ford are surprised when Meghan announces she's like to go to Toronto on Saturday to see her older sister.
"I just need to talk to Kim," Meg says, and that's all she offers by way of explanation. She can tell they're trying to be pleased or hopeful, but are actually kind of worried. Still, early on Saturday morning, her father drives her to the station, kisses her cheek and tells her to have a good trip, and waves through the window as the train leaves.
Two years ago -- maybe even one year ago -- a trip to Toronto to see Kim would have been cause for excitement and celebration and Meg would have chatted about it with the conductor and the man with the snack trolley and the woman across the aisle, would have willed the train to go faster.
But today . . . today she's silent, except for a perfunctory exchange of greetings with the conductor when she hands over her ticket. She sits, and wonders when trains started going so fast, and the closer the train gets to Toronto, the more tense her shoulders get, tight and defensive, like she's expecting someone to hit her. And, despite the fact that she brought a book to read, she just watches out the window.
A landscape viewed from a train is a curious thing. You can get a good look at things only when they are far away. The things that are right up next to the tracks flash by too quickly, you're past them as soon as you've identified them, and if you try to focus on any one thing, you miss a dozen others.
But distance from a thing gives you time to see it. Perspective.
Of course, distance creates its own problems, too.
This may yet be a terrible idea.
Kim's directions are clear and precise, and Meghan has no trouble finding her way from the station to the cafe at which the sisters are meeting. She hesitates, though, before she squares her shoulders and pushes open the door, scanning the tables for that white hair she still has to consciously remind herself Kim has now.
It's a wonder Kim doesn't decide it's a prank call and hang up, in the silence that stretches between "Hello?" and "It's Meg."
It's a very short conversation; Kim was right, this isn't the sort of thing you discuss over the phone.
It's an understatement to say that John and Deirdre Ford are surprised when Meghan announces she's like to go to Toronto on Saturday to see her older sister.
"I just need to talk to Kim," Meg says, and that's all she offers by way of explanation. She can tell they're trying to be pleased or hopeful, but are actually kind of worried. Still, early on Saturday morning, her father drives her to the station, kisses her cheek and tells her to have a good trip, and waves through the window as the train leaves.
Two years ago -- maybe even one year ago -- a trip to Toronto to see Kim would have been cause for excitement and celebration and Meg would have chatted about it with the conductor and the man with the snack trolley and the woman across the aisle, would have willed the train to go faster.
But today . . . today she's silent, except for a perfunctory exchange of greetings with the conductor when she hands over her ticket. She sits, and wonders when trains started going so fast, and the closer the train gets to Toronto, the more tense her shoulders get, tight and defensive, like she's expecting someone to hit her. And, despite the fact that she brought a book to read, she just watches out the window.
A landscape viewed from a train is a curious thing. You can get a good look at things only when they are far away. The things that are right up next to the tracks flash by too quickly, you're past them as soon as you've identified them, and if you try to focus on any one thing, you miss a dozen others.
But distance from a thing gives you time to see it. Perspective.
Of course, distance creates its own problems, too.
This may yet be a terrible idea.
Kim's directions are clear and precise, and Meghan has no trouble finding her way from the station to the cafe at which the sisters are meeting. She hesitates, though, before she squares her shoulders and pushes open the door, scanning the tables for that white hair she still has to consciously remind herself Kim has now.
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"It's all right," she says, gently. "It's all right, Meg. You don't have to say anything, or to ask anything either."
"But you asked how Bran was involved with all this, and that's how."
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It's been bothering her.
Well, it's still bothering her, but no more than any of the rest of the story now.
"I . . . I think maybe . . . I still don't know what to say, Kim. And I really hate not knowing how to talk to you."
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"I guess it's just going to take some time."
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"Well-- it's been a while since you've been in Toronto for the day, I know. Is there anything you'd like to do while you're here?"
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And it's tempting. It's really, really tempting.
But . . .
"Do you think, maybe, you could ask me what I've been doing for the last year and a half. I mean, I'm sure Mom and Dad have filled you in on most of it, and it's certainly not other-world-in-peril interesting but . . . I think I'd like to tell you anyway."
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"I'd very much like to hear, Meg."
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"Ummmm, school's going really well. And, um . . ."
She's so out of practice at this.
"Oh, um Courtney moved out to Victoria, which is so weird, but we're keeping in touch, mostly writing but occasionally we call."
But, then, it's a very old habit. And once she falls into it . . .
"I have Mrs. Ellicott for history, again, this year. And she still calls me 'Kim' every time she calls on me. So that really hasn't changed. And I was helping Mom clean out some old boxes and I found a whole pile of knitting patterns and they're kind of scrawled in a lot of shorthand, but I'm trying to decipher them, with some success so far. And I'm getting very interested in photography. I've been using Dad's old camera and just sort taking pictures of things that I think are interesting; I don't know what I was thinking, though, the other day when I shot the entire roll of pictures of this little brown bird in the backyard. I'm sure Mom told you that we painted the den green, which I'm not sure how I feel about, because I liked the blue, but I'm getting used to it. Anyway, I got this paint in my hair, right here, this big green blotch that took something like three days to get out, and it looked ridiculous and that was when Derek Laundon finally asked me out."
Kim should remember him. Meg's been talking about him, kind of a lot, ever since she was twelve and he moved into the house down the street.
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"He did, did he? Took him long enough!"
A beat.
"Green, huh?"
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She liked the blue better, but then, Meg is not , as a general rule, fond of change.
"And, yeah. About five years."
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Clear gray eyes are sparkling with mischief.
"Get Derek to help."
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That resulted in more or less the most trouble Meg can remember being in, as a child.
"He's a better artist than I am, though, so who knows? Might turn out stunning this time."
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Meg's short-lived foray into murals.
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A beat.
"You know, there's this little ice cream place down the street a ways, if you want...?"
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"But when you ask if you can taste mine, that gets you a single spoonful."
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Kim's smiling as she stands up.
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The hope in her now is as bright as her smile.
Maybe things are going to be okay, after all.
"Come on."
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Meg drops a handful of change on the table for the waitress, and follows her sister away from the door Kim didn't need, and out into the world.