Who: Elsa, also a taxi driver What: Narrative about coming home When: Late on the 17th Where: Airport then Manor Arendelle Status: Complete Rating: PG
California was a lot different than Elsa remembered it. It was warmer than she'd expected, bigger in some ways and smaller in others. Vastly different from London, an unfamiliarity that turned her stomach into a hard knot. The buildings were different, the streets wider. The throngs of people she didn't like but she at least was used to from London. Mostly, she was anxious about Anna. Assuming Anna would even want to see her or talk to her.
Most of her things were being shipped separately, so all she had was her carryons and a couple checked bags as she waited for a taxi. Everything was fine, this was fine. She told herself that over and over and over, even as she slid into the back of the cab. Her mind wasn't really listening, and telling her how empty everything would be with her parents gone, and how they'd judge her for not coming to the funeral.
"Thanks," she murmured. No problem, her mind told her, before coming up with several increasingly disastrous scenarios for the day, and then adding a bad job interview on top of it. Even once she was safely ensconced in the taxi, she couldn't relax.
"Where'd ya fly in from?" The driver asked.
"Uhm, London." Elsa folded her hands in her lap.
"That's a helluva flight! Have many stops?" Brown eyes regarded her in the mirror.
"Mine was non-stop." She hadn't slept well, but at least she wasn't doing anything important for a couple of days.
"Damn. Coming home from vacation?"
Elsa smiled, "Something like that."
The taxi lady nodded. “Never been to London. Went to Mexico a few times, but that’s a lot easier. Ever been anywhere else?”
Elsa flashed back to her childhood. Flitting across the country for Anna’s health issues. Sometimes she’d go with her parents, other times she’d stay home with nannies. Anna had gotten all the attention and Elsa had slowly taken herself out of the picture. “Canada once or twice. When I was little. So I couldn’t tell you what it was like. Paris a few times.”
“Always wanted to go to Toronto.”
“It’s probably beautiful.”
They fell into an awkward silence for the rest of the ride, Elsa focusing on the lights outside as they drove. Even her own neighborhood felt unfamiliar. The manor though, she remembered it. There were no lights in the windows, no warmth. But then Elsa didn’t remember much warmth for most of her life there.
Or maybe that was the anxiety talking.
The taxi driver was kind enough to help her get her luggage up the steps, and she tipped her probably much more than necessary as she felt bad about the effort. And then she was alone.
She should have remembered Anna had moved out. A big empty house all to herself. After seven years in a small flat near campus, it was almost overwhelming. Luckily, her key still worked, and she let herself in.
Elsa was greeted by ghosts. Sheets and plastic over furniture, pictures leaning against the wall similarly covered. There were crates too, for antiques and other items too fragile to be left out.
The silence and emptiness was oppressive and it sank in she was here, alone. Not even her roommate to keep her company. She flicked on a light and nothing happened. Of course there wasn’t any power either. She’d have to call to get that taken care of tomorrow, but it meant at least a night in a dark house.
Using the light from her phone, she took her carry ons upstairs and hung a right past the servant’s rooms. Anna’s room was a little further on the left, and she peeked inside. It was mostly empty, except the bed and some other furniture. She hadn’t known what she’d expected, but it still hurt on some level.
Her own room was unchanged since she’d last seen it. No one had bothered to pack up the things she couldn’t take with her to London, which was quite a bit. There were framed art prints and pictures of buildings, and a few posters of groups she’d stopped listening to, as well as several bookcases full of books.
She moved on to the main bedroom. Like her own this was unchanged. She wondered how much Anna had tried to pack, or if she’d been able to even try at all. Elsa felt like a stranger as she sat on the bed in the dark.
Her room had felt too small for her. This room felt too big, and filled with more of those ghosts. She pulled her phone out and opened up the messaging. After twenty minutes of wrestling with what to say, she texted her sister.