| This Is Your Life |
[19 May 2008|11:46pm] |
It wasn't easy to blend in, especially when you dressed in a fashion cross between early Salvation Army and later Jackson Pollock. The Agent could've blended in claiming Irish heritage had his visit coincided with Saint Patrick's day. And while the city had once been a booming copper town, those days were past and claims to be scouting the area for work in mining wouldn't hold up.
So he played tourist cum amateur historian to the wandering eyes of the less than forty thousands who called Bute, Montana home. Every day Whistler pounded the streets, a slow walk through the Dumas Brothel Museum (had he visited there before? the red velvet felt familiar), the Berkeley Pit, Copper King Mansion, Venus Alley. And he certainly couldn't resist seeing where Daschell Hammett originally plied his trade at the Pinkerton National Detective Agency.
It was pure distraction, and he knew it. Every morning he'd wake, shower and shave, wave to Missus Bannister as he whizzed past the kitchen of her bed and breakfast, and hop in his Impala with intent to steer onto Anaconda Road and Meg's Amazing Edibles before exercising yet another cheesecloth-thin excuse to postpone. It's Saturday, probably a large catering order, won't have time for unfamiliar faces. No one should be shocked on a Monday. That cheesesteak from last night isn't sitting right.
He felt like a coward. Whistler could stare down an apocalypse, but not his own past. Hannah's words played over and over. "You know they're okay now. So you don't need to go ordering a sheet cake, just to get a look at Meg."
The Agent protested, as was his wont.
"I don't want you to get your feelings hurt."
And his feelings would be hurt. Not at seeing his daughter again. But to know she made a life for herself without his help. That she didn't need him. But maybe that was exactly what Whistler needed. To know Meg thrived in spite of him.
Stepping out of the Impala, feet firmly on Anaconda Road and a copy of the Montana Standard tucked under his right arm, the Agent strolled across the street and opened the door to the past.
( Once upon a time )
Meg Melone was written by Kate.
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