OOM: Visit to Toronto

[noteful]

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.

Comments

[noteful]

There's a very long moment in which Meg can't manage to do anything but stare.

"You mean . . . you mean swords in stones and round table and holy grail Arthur, don't you?"

[bannion_sight]

Kim nods.

[noteful]

She's trying -- oh how she's trying -- to say this as calmly and nonjudgmentally as she can.

"But . . . but, Kim, that doesn't make any sense. He's from the 70's. In Wales."

[bannion_sight]

"I know," she says, quietly. "Believe me, I know. But it's true. As for the rest... you should probably ask him."

"But the reason I mentioned it in the first place-- you see, it matters. It matters very much."

[noteful]

If she ever sees him again, she will.

And for now, even though she's still very much at this doesn't make any sense, Meg will go along with it.

"All right."

[bannion_sight]

"And the reason it matters is that--"

It's never going to get easier to say, Kim thinks, but at least she's getting better at finding the words.

"-- we knew war was coming to Fionavar. We needed help."

A beat.

"We needed the Warrior. Arthur. And I was the one who summoned him."

[noteful]

"You took King Arthur to . . . "

Meg trails off, because a veyr large part of her brain just rebels at having to finish that sentence outloud.

The more of this story she hears, the less she understands it.

"They don't have warriors in . . . "

[bannion_sight]

"They do. He was different. He was the Warrior."

There's a certain weight to the way she says the last word; an unusual timbre to her voice.

"Who always died, and was never allowed to rest. He was needed... and I brought him."

[noteful]

Meghan doesn't like the timbre -- it's yet another reminder of just how much she thinks these two have changed, how little they know each other.

"I . . . I don't know what I'm supposed to say here. Or to ask. Or . . ."

[bannion_sight]

The distant look in Kim's eyes clears, and she shakes her head quickly, refocusing on her sister.

"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."

[noteful]

"Thank you."

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."

[bannion_sight]

She's quiet for several seconds.

"I guess it's just going to take some time."

[noteful]

"Yes," says Meg. "It is. And probably a lot of it."

[bannion_sight]

The silence that descends is awkward for a brief moment before Kim says, with determined brightness,

"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?"

[noteful]

There's an easy answer here -- name a museum or something, spend the afternoon in meaningless conversation about whatever topics the surroundings provide.

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."

[bannion_sight]

It takes a second, but only that, and Kim's eyes are suspiciously bright when she says,

"I'd very much like to hear, Meg."

[noteful]

"Well," says Meg, and then pauses. Since this was her idea, she thinks she should know how to continue, but she doesn't, quite.

"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.

[bannion_sight]

She props her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, listening-- and when Meg pauses for breath, Kim beams at her.

"He did, did he? Took him long enough!"

A beat.

"Green, huh?"

[noteful]

"Green," Meg confirms, nose wrinkling slightly.

She liked the blue better, but then, Meg is not , as a general rule, fond of change.

"And, yeah. About five years."

[bannion_sight]

"You could always sneak in with finger paints and 'improve' it."

Clear gray eyes are sparkling with mischief.

"Get Derek to help."

[noteful]

"Yes, because that worked so well when I tried it when I was four," says Meg, trying to keep a straight face but failing rather entirely and starting to giggle.

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."

[bannion_sight]

"Oh, I don't know -- it was pretty impressive the first time," Kim teases. "You know Mom still has a picture of that, right?"

[noteful]

"I think she has more like a dozen, honestly."

Meg's short-lived foray into murals.

[bannion_sight]

"At least, I'm sure."

A beat.

"You know, there's this little ice cream place down the street a ways, if you want...?"

[noteful]

"Sure," says Meg, without (for once) overthinking the decision.

"But when you ask if you can taste mine, that gets you a single spoonful."