David had seen it all before, the greyhound station on George to the YMCA next door. In high school he had friends who went to the thrift store there. He knew the trees and he knew the smell of the Quaker Oats factory. This smell meant he was within minutes of his family. Despite the familiarity though it felt strange for him to be here. He had fought so hard to escape this place. He had saved so much for his move to New York two years prior, he had managed to avoid returning up until now, and the sight of everything though warm and nostalgic reminded him of all the tension he left behind.
His bus was early and he knew his father who had agreed to pick him up would come now if he called but he chose not to. Instead he resolutely reached into his overly worn messenger bag (he had paid a lot of money for it once though one would never know it) and he found at the bottom, below all the paper work he had "filed" a metallic cigarette case with an image of the Beatles adorning the cover. He bought it with a gift certificate from an ex who hated that he smoked after their relationship ended. He loved little bits of irony like this and went to large extremes for them.
Calmly David lit a cigarette and began to inhale, his father would be there soon but for now David was happy to just stand next to the greyhound station alone. An elderly woman got off the same bus. She had flaming red hair, which was in no way natural, and lipstick that had been applied far more liberally to her teeth then any other place. She approached David and let out a shriek.
"David" said the woman "Davy Pappas".
David had been found his anonymity shattered.
"How are you Mrs. O'Hara" he said to his third grade English teacher who had unfortunately recognized him. He had always been her favourite though he never understood why and the way she favoured him led the other kids to be so cruel. He had always wished she would be as mean to him as she was to everyone else.
"Are you living in Toronto now" she asked, it made sense that was where he last transferred buses.
-No New York actually
-Oh
-Yeah I moved there two years ago, right after I finished at Trent
-Well that's wonderful, I always knew you would do great things
-Thank you Mrs. O'Hara
David did not hate people, nor did he hate his town, If you asked David about Peterborough in New York he would tell you romantic, wonderful things about it, but being here at this time alone for him brought great strain.
A black lexis pulled into the greyhound parking lot, in nineteen eighty five it was a beautiful car but this was two thousand and one. In the drivers seat sat a man, This was David's father John. John was not a very tall man, he had a grey moustache and little hair. He also had about him though a quiet, stoic, dignity that David had always admired as a child.
John was proud, he was proud of his courage to leave home for Canada in the late seventies, he was proud to own both his house and restaurant, mortgaged as they were. He was proud of his family and all that he had achieved. David saw this and was inspired, he would not have come out had it not been for John, nor would he have gone to New York or pursued screenwriting. John taught him that whatever you want is attainable and that you need to control your life.
John didn't exit the car, instead he honked. He loved to honk.
David opened the door and sat in the seat next to John.
-How are you
John asked
-I'm fine
David replied
-mana mou
said John. They didn't say another word the rest of the way home.
Ellen was David's mother, she was tall and strong, but also very youthful and pretty. The perfect word to describe Ellen was grace. As John and David pulled into the driveway Ellen was folding laundry in the living room window as she always did. David sometimes got the image that she was always there waiting for her children to return like a light house keeper waiting for the boats. When they walked in the door she immediately dropped the socks she had been working on and leapt to embrace her son.
David was emphatic in the way he hugged his mother. He truly was so happy to be there with her. This trip would be good, thought David, he had his stresses but it would be good.
David placed his bags in his old bedroom. The suit of armour his aunt Jane had bought him for his eleventh birthday still stood guarding his bed. The king Arthur poster giving a detailed bio of every round table warrior still hung above it. Something was missing though, the bed was made and there was no clothing scattered across the room. This gave the room a haunted quality for David, that is the only way he could describe it.
Once Mary his sister had gotten back they all got together around a table. On the table was all the evidence of Ellen's immense talent in the kitchen. There was spanakopita, calamari, shrinp, chicken stefado, lamb, and rice. It didn't matter that none of these things were part of the same meal but they were all David's favourites. God forbid she spread them over the weekend. Mary was asked to say grace. She rolled her eyes. Ellen was not impressed.
-Mary, okay I'll say them
and then she did.
-Oh heavenly father, we thank you for this food we are about to receive and for the hands that have prepared it. We thank you for this fellowship, for bringing all three of my children together this night after two years. We thank you for David and pray that he will find his way back to you.
Amen
