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Linda's first meeting with Art's Gran went off without a hitch. Gran met them at Union Station with an obsolete red cap who was as ancient as she was, a vestige of a more genteel era of train travel and bulky luggage. Just seeing him made Art's brain whir with plans for conveyor systems, luggage escalators, cart dispen... |
Gran gave Art a long and teary hug. She was less frail than she'd been in his memory, taller and sturdier. The smell of her powder and the familiar acoustics of Union Station's cavernous platform whirled him back to his childhood in Toronto, to the homey time before he'd gotten on the circadian merry-go-round. |
"Gran, this is Linda," he said. |
"Oh, it's so *nice* to meet you," Gran said, taking Linda's hands in hers. "Call me Julie." |
Linda smiled a great, pretty, toothy smile. "Julie, Art's told me all about you. I just *know* we'll be great friends." |
"I'm sure we will. Are you hungry? Did they feed you on the train? You must be exhausted after such a long trip. Which would you rather do first, eat or rest?" |
"Well, *I'm* up for seeing the town," Linda said. "Your grandson's been yawning his head off since Buffalo, though." She put her arm around his waist and squeezed his tummy. |
"What a fantastic couple you make," Gran said. "You didn't tell me she was so *pretty*, Arthur!" |
"Here it comes," Art said. "She's going to ask about great-grandchildren." |
"Don't be silly," Gran said, cuffing him gently upside the head. "You're always exaggerating." |
"Well *I* think it's a splendid idea," Linda said. "Shall we have two? Three? Four?" |
"Make it ten," Art said, kissing her cheek. |
"Oh, I couldn't have ten," Linda said. "But five is a nice compromise. Five it will be. We'll name the first one Julie if it's a girl, or Julius if it's a boy." |
"Oh, we *are* going to get along," Gran said, and led them up to the curb, where the red cap had loaded their bags into a cab. |
They ate dinner at Lindy's on Yonge Street, right in the middle of the sleaze strip. The steakhouse had been there for the better part of a century, and its cracked red-vinyl booths and thick rib eyes smothered in horseradish and HP Sauce were just as Art had remembered. Riding up Yonge Street, the city lights had seem... |
By the time Art lay down in his bed, belly tight with undigested steak, he was feeling wonderful and at peace with the world. Linda climbed in beside him, wrestled away a pillow and some covers, and snuggled up to him. |
"That went well," Art said. "I'm really glad you two hit it off." |
"Me too, honey," Linda said, kissing his shoulder through his tee shirt. He'd been able to get his head around the idea of sharing a bed with his girlfriend under his grandmother's roof, but doing so nude seemed somehow wrong. |
"We're going to have a great week," he said. "I wish it would never end." |
"Yeah," she said, and began to snore into his neck. |
The next morning, Art woke stiff and serene. He stretched out on the bed, dimly noted Linda's absence, and padded to the bathroom to relieve his bladder. He thought about crawling back into bed, was on the verge of doing so, when he heard the familiar, nervewracking harangue of Linda arguing down her comm. He opened th... |
"No, goddamnit, no! Not here. Jesus, are you a moron? I said *no*!" |
Art reached out to touch her back, noticed that it was trembling, visibly tense and rigid, and pulled his hand back. Instead, he quietly set about fishing in his small bag for a change of clothes. |
"This is *not* a good time. I'm at Art's grandmother's place, all right? I'll talk to you later." She threw her comm at the bed and whirled around. |
"Everything all right?" Art said timidly. |
"No, goddamnit, no it isn't." |
Art pulled on his pants and kept his eyes on her comm, which was dented and scratched from a hundred thousand angry hang ups. He hated it when she got like this, radiating anger and spoiling for a fight. |
"I'm going to have to go, I think," she said. |
"Go?" |
"To California. That was my fucking ex again. I need to go and sort things out with him." |
"Your ex knows who I am?" |
She looked blank. |
"You told him you were at my grandmother's place. He knows who I am?" |
"Yeah," she said. "He does. I told him, so he'd get off my back." |
"And you have to go to California?" |
"Today. I have to go to California today." |
"Jesus, today? We just got here!" |
"Look, you've got lots of catching up to do with your Gran and your friends here. You won't even miss me. I'll go for a couple days and then come back." |
"If you gotta go," he said. |
"I gotta go." |
He explained things as best as he could to Gran while Linda repacked her backpack, and then saw Linda off in a taxi. She was already savaging her comm, booking a ticket to LA. He called Fede from the condo's driveway. |
"Hey, Art! How's Toronto?" |
"How'd you know I was in Toronto?" Art said, but he knew, he *knew* then, though he couldn't explain how he knew, he knew that Linda and Fede had been talking. He *knew* that Linda had been talking to Fede that morning, and not her fucking ex (God, he was thinking of the poor schmuck that way already, "fucking ex"). Ch... |
"Lucky guess," Fede said breezily. "How is it?" |
"Oh, terrific. Great to see the old hometown and all. How're things with Perceptronics? When should I plan on being back in Boston?" |
"Oh, it's going all right, but slow. Hurry up and wait, right? Look, don't worry about it, just relax there, I'll call you when the deal's ready and you'll go back to Boston and we'll sort it out and it'll all be fantastic and don't worry, really, all right?" |
"Fine, Fede." Art wasn't listening any more. Fede had gone into bullshit mode, and all Art was thinking of was why Linda would talk to Fede and then book a flight to LA. "How're things in London?" he said automatically. |
"Fine, fine," Fede said, just as automatically. "Not the same without you, of course." |
"Of course," Art said. "Well, bye then." |
"Bye," Fede said. |
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