Log: Rey & Theo Who: Rey Smith and Theo Chambers What: Two expats walk into a diner ... When: Early November (backdated) Where: The diner Warnings: None
Rey had intended to bring a sandwich up from the house for lunch, but she'd forgot to pack it the night before and hadn't had time in the morning. So she decided it was all right to splurge with another meal at the diner, the better of the two, or so Ren had said. Eating out was a luxury Rey didn't think to allow herself very often. She associated it both with money she'd never internalized the having of and with the sort of working dinners she'd seen Aunt Leah host while she'd stayed with Leah and Hans. At university, Rey had kept a close watch on her funds. And of course Luke had believed in living off the land and keeping to himself, neither of which was conducive to eating in restaurants. So the diner was interesting and exciting to Rey, even if she was indifferent to the food itself other than as a source of energy, positive for her and not so much for the creatures who had perished to make her meal.
By the time she was free to eat, the time for the lunch rush had passed. So it was a surprise when Rey stepped in to find that there was someone else waiting to be served at the counter. "Hello," she said, sliding onto the seat one down from his. "Have you been waiting long?" Her accent said Received Pronunciation with a bit of a Scottish burr to it. Just enough of a touch of Scots, in fact, to suggest to the trained ear that she'd been educated out of more of it.
Theodore had been back a few days and was finally starting to feel recovered from his trip. Now, he was making good on his promise to see a little more of Repose Proper. He'd been to a couple shops but had studiously avoided the bookstore for the time being, as he'd seen enough of those in the past week to last him a while. Instead, he found himself at the diner - the Good Diner, in the local parlance, so it seemed, and it was, to his eyes, a charming bit of Americana. What a diner should be; the dictionary definition of "diner." And on.
So, sitting at the counter, his walking stick propped against the facing, the last thing he really did expect to hear in such an American place was anything so familiar as that slight Scottish burr. It pricked his ears immediately, and he turned with a quiet smile to greet the young lady who'd taken the seat beside him. "Hello," he replied. "Only a few minutes, really." His own accent was West Country, but also heavily muted by twenty years of Northeast living. "Seems we're both rather far from home," he commented easily. "No?"
"A bit," Rey said, "though I think home is, in the end, where we make it. I'm Rey, and I've just arrived--has it been two months already?--arrived recently in Repose." She smiled, all guileless friendliness, in a way that seemed more American than British of any sort. "I'm staying up on the lake, at my foster-family's house." She had the sort of fresh-faced, not much makeup, leggings and hoodie look that made her somewhere between college age and thirty, with not much to tell whether she was at the upper or lower end of that range. "What brings you to Repose?"
"Well, that is true enough, though I suppose I could be slightly pedantic about the entire thing and say 'rather far from the country of our birth,' or something," Theodore said with an easy smile. "Rey--we've met, after a fashion--Theodore," he said with a hand to his chest. "I believe we spoke on the forums, once upon a time." He was dressed casually, for him, which was his typical outfit of black slacks and a white button-up. Lean frame, though not gaunt by any means, simply wiry where as a child, he'd been considered "weedy." He had the weathered look of someone who clearly had spent a great portion of their life out of doors, and had picked up a few years in his looks that he didn't have in reality. Still, laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth said that yes, he found the humor in many things.
"How are you liking it here, Rey?"
At the mention of Theodore's name, Rey's face lit up in genuine pleasure. "Oh, yes, I remember. You were very kind--and I appreciated it, because Repose seems, well, people are quite friendly once you've talked to them but it's a bit intimidating coming in from outside. I'm working at the bed and breakfast and at Del's, and everything's going pretty well. Started making a few friends. Going through all the boxes and things slowly." Her smile faltered slightly for a moment. "Starting to feel like, not myself again, but like I might figure out who I am now, if you know what I mean." And she tilted her head as if to say she was certain Theodore did.
"Del's the reason I'm here, in a roundabout sort of way," Theodore told her. "We actually met in New York, used to peripherally run in the same circles, as it were. Told me about this place, and I decided to summer here last year. I was rather happy to see she'd come back. I'm sure you're enjoying working with her." Del was clearly one of his favorite people from the way he spoke about her, in that fond, brotherly sort of way. Not that he'd ever had siblings.
He started nodding when Rey began to talk about what it was like for her to start a new life in Repose. "Moving anywhere new can be daunting. Moving here from England was quite the culture shock, as you can certainly imagine. And it was after I spent a year in Germany, so doubly so. But it sounds like you're coming around quickly." He absolutely understood what it was like, to really discover who you were, how you were, and how that didn't match up with the person you used to be or even thought you were. "I went through quite a bit of that when I was younger, figuring out who I was. Younger than you, so I think I was lucky in that regard. Still, everyone finds it in their own time, and I've found that you never quite settle on who and what you are. Life tends to have different plans for you." He shrugged a little, like what can you really do about that, except play along with whatever it was life had in store for you?
"Life does have strange plans for us," Rey agreed, but that wasn't something she necessarily needed to think about right now, so she went back to a more interesting common subject: "Del's great. I like her a lot. I think I'm going to try to get into touch with my artistic side, if you will, a little. See what I can learn from letting myself loose with pencil and sketch pad. Are you an artist, then?" Her eyes dropped momentarily to Theodore's hands, as if she could tell from looking, or calluses and ink stains would betray something interesting. "Or just involved in those circles in New York?" Del, Rey suspected, had a very interesting set of friends, and she'd concluded that she wouldn't mind being folded into that circle even if many of them were old enough to be her parents.
"An artist of a sort," Theodore allowed. His hands had the same weathered look, small scars criss-crossing, here and there. "Though that seems an aggrandization. A creative type, at least." However reluctantly, it was the role he'd been playing for this portion of his life. "I'm an author, actually. I write Young Adult novels. Stories of adventure and magic, that sort of thing." He followed it up with an almost embarrassed smile. He was more of a private person than his fame allowed for at times, and he'd learned that morning that his first novel had just cracked the NYT's YA Best Seller list. "So, any involvement in those circles was largely due to my publisher's influence. Del was more the socialite. Or, her husband was. However you gender that term for men." He gave her an amused little smile.
"I never got to read a lot of that kind of thing," Rey had to admit. "Not when I was the so-called right age for it. When I was living in the orphanage, it was basically what they had in the library at school to read, and most of their books weren't recent. A lot of classics, things meant to teach us good moral fibre, that sort of thing. And when I went into foster care, I did a lot of--I don't want to give the wrong impression, but there were areas of learning where I needed to catch up, so my foster-father attended to those first and that didn't allow for a lot of leisure reading." She grimaced apologetically. "So I don't follow the field but--I should love to read your book. I have--more time. Even working. And Aunt--my foster-aunt and foster-uncle think maybe I should relax a little more than I do, so probably it would be good for me as well. What sort of magic adventure is it about?"
Theodore listened to Rey talk about the way she had been raised with a thoughtful expression. It didn't sound like the easiest life, and sounded a lot like she'd bounced around in the system before finally settling with someone who truly loved her and raised her as his own, based on some of what she'd talked about on the forums. He was glad he'd been a person like that, and had been able to spare Elaine from a similar fate. "So, I have to admit it is somewhat autobiographical," he said, pausing as his food arrived: a cheeseburger, laden with toppings, fresh hot fries, and a chocolate milkshake. He really did love Amercian food, sometimes.
"My husband was an archaeologist. Well, we both were," he said, taking up a fry and having a bite. "But really, it was more his passion, and I followed him into it. And as such, we were always traveling. When Elaine - our daughter - was old enough, she started traveling with us. The books are more about her - a different version of her, really - and how while her parents were exploring and doing their work, she would get into her own adventures. Which really aren't magical on their own so much as the setting is a world that presupposes the existence of magic. So she's learning to use and control her magical power while..." He waved a fry in a little circle, like he was casting a spell with a wand. "Solving mysteries and unraveling ancient curses, and the like." He smiled. "As children do, you know?"
Rey was eating salad with grilled chicken: relatively healthy and, with the dressing, putting a lot of energy in the system. Her manners were pleasant, if not excessively nice, but she was a quick eater and attentive to it in a way that suggested some of her meals had ended earlier than she might have wanted at a formative age. But she was still listening to Theodore, nodding, and smiling between bites.
"I imagine that's what some children do," she said after a moment, her smile turning a bit fond. "And of course she and her fathers get a happy ending, which is important. I'll definitely have to read them. I did some traveling with my foster-father in Europe. Nothing as exciting as what archaeologists get up to, of course, usually not even the 'dig in the car park' kind, never mind the other sort. So I hope they'll remind me a little of that but with more fanciful excitement. It does sound like the setup for some lovely stories. Do they have them in the shop here, or are you the author that's only honoured outside of your own backyard?"
Theodore knew he ought to eat more healthy. After all, he wasn't nearly as young as he used to be. And with his leg, any sort of exercise was often out of the question. So he eyed her salad with something close to - but not quite - guilt. And then took a bite of his cheeseburger, because it was absolutely delicious, in that way only American diner food truly could be.
In the books, the endings were happy, wrapped up in a nice, neat little bow, because that's how those sorts of books were meant to end. In reality, well, not so much. He appreciated - and was embarrassed, slightly - by her enthusiasm. Because again, at heart, he was really a private person. It didn't bother him, strangers reading his books. When it came to people he knew, it always made him feel a little bit on display, which he suspected would make anyone uncomfortable. "They may - the bookshop is secondhand, though, and the American printing may be too new just yet. But let me know if they don't - I'd be happy to send them over if not. Signed, even, if you'd like," he added with a little chuckle. "So tell me, where is it you traveled? I never made it to the more, ah, popular destinations, myself. I've been to Ulanbataar, but never to Paris."
"We did some travelling in the capital cities, mostly to really old sites. Cathedrals, Roman ruins, that kind of thing," Rey explained as she worked on polishing off her salad. "Pompeii, more the actual archaeological side rather than the touristy side. Some of the places with amphitheaters, but mostly the Greek ones, the ones used for religious plays. Ephesus in Turkey. Hagia Sophia. Some of the legendary places in eastern Europe, the Black Forest, that kind of thing. After I was old enough to have my license I bought a tiny beat-up sedan and we'd drive to where we were going. He'd learnt to drive as an American but he'd been abroad so long he'd got used to driving on the British side of the road, and let me tell you, half the adventure was being on the highway when he was behind the wheel." She found herself laughing in spite of herself.
After a moment, still smiling, she said, "He was really looking for, and showing me--" Rey hesitated while she considered the right words "--awe-filled places. I know there are plenty in other parts of the world, in Asia--Japan, China, the subcontinent--in Egypt, but that's--different. He didn't think I was ready for that yet, and we never had the money to go really far. So I never made it to the awesome parts of Ulanbataar. But I learnt a lot about history and culture and even--human nature, I suppose."
"Those all do sound very interesting," Theodore said, eating while she told of the places she'd been. "And I'm glad you didn't just see the touristy bits. I haven't been to many of those places - excepting the Black Forest. We didn't travel much of Europe, instead - Asia, South America, Africa - the places which garnered a bit less interest, wholesale. Jamie used to say 'Europe's been studied to death.' And it was always more about what caught his interest. I just got swept along for the ride." He joined in her laughter, remembering how, in his mid-twenties, he'd finally learned to drive. Jamie had been apprehensive at first, having lost his mother in a car accident, and he'd never learned, himself. But they'd had some good times on the road.
"Awe-filled places," Theodore said thoughtfully, liking that idea. And yet: "So you could say he tried to take you to the most awe-ful places imaginable." He cracked a smile. "I know, I know. My daughter gives me the same look. But honestly, I think that's a wonderful thing for a father to do. It's been the best thing I have been able to give Elaine, is that appreciation for the wonder of the world, to let her see the way different people live. To live like they do, to play with their children, step into their shoes. I didn't have that growing up; most children don't, I suppose," he allowed. But he had, less than most, thanks to his own father. He had to admit he was curious about what Rey meant by "not ready" for some of those other places, but he just had another french fry instead.
"No, a lot of children don't. If I'd stayed in the system I'd never have got anything like that." It wasn't a condemnation or more than a quiet, if genuine, gratitude. Mostly Rey said it as an acknowledgement of fact. "It does sound like the two of you and Elaine had a very happy if unconventional life. Not that convention is good for everything.
"And you said that--when she reached the right age, I assume--you sent her off to boarding school. Where you'd been." Rey recalled that from their conversation on the forum, which had been particularly reassuring to her on a day when she'd been quite worried about her prospects in Repose. "That must have been quite an adjustment for all of you."
It wasn't a condemnation but Theodore knew it to be true. He'd never truly allowed himself to imagine what sort of life Elaine might have had, had he and Jamie not adopted her. "Yes, sending her to Lindmarch was difficult at first." The name of the school, it was something of a code word. If Rey knew it, she probably knew many of the same things Theodore did, in a "traditional" sense, as it were. If not, well, it was just the name of a school. "She had always been with us. Not to the exclusion of others; she had plenty of socialization and she was far from as awkward as I certainly was at that age." He had had a single friend, when he'd started at Lindmarch. "I hate to say it, but there was a certain amount of freedom to it, as well. But she was just as ready to strike out on her own. Eleven going on twenty-one," he laughed. "And now..." His expression probably said it all: Elaine had all the fierce independence and certainty of a young woman ready to take on the world. And Theodore couldn't have been more proud.
Rey's expression brightened a little at the mention of Lindmarch, and she nodded once, to indicate she'd made the connection. "I felt a little of the same when I came to America--that I was fourteen going on forty, of course--" she grinned "--and it was a lot of culture shock. Everything was different, but I got used to it. Did you take Elaine traveling on term breaks as well?"
"It certainly can be, in a couple different ways," Theodore said, agreeing with her assessment of the difference between life in England and life in America. "And, well, if you know Lindmarch, then you'll know there was an extra layer of culture shock I was dealing with." Assuming, of course, that he hadn't misread her reaction to the name of the school. "But yes, we did take her with us, when she was on breaks from school. Though we also tried to spend some time back home together in Salem as she got older. Family time that wasn't always wrapped up in whatever work we were doing. Jamie and I traveled for much of the year, back then, so it was a nice break for us, as well."
Rey nodded again at the mention of the school. "I've met some people who went to Lindmarch," she said, very casually. "There's a family up in the Hebrides with a wildlife preserve. My foster-father was acquainted with them. We all have some--underlying educational concerns--in common, let's say. So I can imagine that your daughter could use the breaks with family. Both the breaks for travel and later, just the time to relax. My formal education was all very traditional in the British, and later American, senses. I got all the additional instruction on the side."
Well, that was all very interesting, and rather surprising, in Repose. But also pleasing. "I suppose I've always considered my education 'classical' in that sense. But I hardly think it's the only way to learn. Or the only thing to learn, in that regard. I encountered a number of different traditions in my travels. Most ideas can be adapted." He finished off the rest of his food, a little surprised that he hadn't noticed eating it all; he'd been so engaged in the conversation with Rey. "I don't think Elaine ever really wanted a break. She was always begging to practice at home. And since she came of age this summer," he laughed. "Anything that could be done, was done."
"That's how it was for me, too. It was a lot of fun for me right up until Uncle Luke--my foster father, that is--fell ill, and then I sort of crashed back to reality, at least the mundane world. I wasn't doing a great job of bridging the two sides, as it were, and that was--not a great choice but I think you can understand why," Rey admitted ruefully. She chased the last of the croutons on her salad around the plate with her fork as she talked; finally she just picked it up with her fingers and popped it in her mouth with a shrug. "It's good," she added, "that Elaine's got you."
Theodore thought about that while his look offered condolences that her Uncle either was, or had been, doing poorly. "I suppose I've been living with one foot in both worlds for so long that it's become second nature to me at this point," he said in a lower voice that only carried as far as Rey's ears alone. "I think for the way I learned, it's very much a rite of passage. You're taught for nearly seven years before you come of age and you can use it without constant supervision." He didn't want to imply that Rey lacked any, but- "It...provides a fair amount of natural restraint. But I know how...intoxicating it can feel. Addictive. It's power. And more people don't have it than do." He looked thoughtfully at the last few fries on his plate. "I nearly lost myself to that once, too. I know how it can go badly. If you've questions, or need help, don't hesitate to ask."
"I hope I won't need to," Rey said, looking at Theodore, "but it's very kind of you to offer." She thought she didn't need to say that she was very much concerned that she would.