It took some time for her to gather her thoughts. It wasn't exactly a tale she'd planned on telling, especially not to some random stranger. But
now, flying back across the Atlantic, with the fruitless search still fresh on her mind, and the wounds reopened...
...he was right, Elizabeth decided. Maybe it was time she shared the story. She needed to tell someone, anyone. And maybe the anonymity made it better.
She released a breath she didn't even know she was holding. It let loose in a hiss, her shoulders slumping.
"It's funny," she began, finally.
Though maybe that was the wrong word. She didn't find it funny at all, except in the blackest sense. Her hands curled, fingers digging into her palms.
Elizabeth started to tremble...before she grabbed the dark thought and roughly shoved it back down, burying it at the back of her mind. She kept talking,
keeping the words coming. She was afraid to stop, for if she did, she was certain she wouldn't be able to start again. again.
"It really all comes back to school and stuff," she said, "my mother...she was an exchange student. This was before I was born, you
understand? She went to England for a semester."
Seated beside her, Walker nodded, once.
Elizabeth closed her eyes. "But a few months later..."
"...she had you," Walker guessed, after it became clear Elizabeth wasn't going to.
"Yes," Elizabeth confirmed, glad she hadn't needed to say it.
Walker winced. "And your father?"
She grimaced. "I don't know. Mom...she doesn't like to talk about it."
"He was someone she met in Britain, I assume," Walker asked.
"Yeah," Elizabeth acknowledged, "I know that much. But that's about it. I don't even know his full name. 'Al', Mom said,
that's all. 'Al' what? Just 'Al'? Short for 'Albert'? 'Alfred'? I..."
Her hands balled into fists. Elizabeth forced them to unclench.
"And your mother," said Walker, "she won't tell you more?"
Elizabeth gave a hiss of frustration. "No."
"Hm, maybe she doesn't want to remember," Walker suggested, "it might be painful for her."
"I guess...no," Elizabeth corrected herself, "I know it is. But what about me?"
Her voice started to climb, before her cheeks flushed. Conscious that they were surrounded by an entire cabin full of other passengers, Elizabeth forced
her volume back down. There was, though, still an insistent edge to her tone.
"Don't I," she demanded, "have a right to know?"
"Yes," Walker murmured, "you do. But if you're angry with your mother, I don't---"
"Damn right I'm angry," Elizabeth interrupted, slamming the ball of her hand into her chair's armrest, "I...I..."
She faltered.
"...I...I had a fight with mom...I...when I told mom I was going to England, she just freaked out, I..."
Walker frowned slightly. "You were looking for your father?"
Elizabeth raised a hand, covering her face. "It's not like I got anywhere. Or like I had any chance," she grumbled, in a mix of frustration
and resignation, "needle in a goddamn haystack."
Walker made a face, his expression growing more intense. "Hm, do you even know if he's British?"
Taken off-guard, Elizabeth gaped. "What?"
"If your father was...is...British, I mean," Walker elaborated, "the UK gets a lot of students from overseas. Like your mother, in fact. And
expatriate workers from Europe and elsewhere. Your parents met in Britain, but do you know if /he/ was British?"
Elizabeth stared at him in dawning horror. "I...I don't...mom said he wasn't American, but..."
"But she never actually specified," concluded Walker.
"Oh God," Elizabeth groaned, "I never thought of that. I'm so stupid."
"Ah, I didn't mean that," Walker said quickly, "chances are he is British, or at least European. Otherwise your mother wouldn't have
been so upset when you announced your intentions."
"I suppose," Elizabeth answered, slowly, "but still...I spent all that time in London, and I didn't get anywhere."
"Mm," Walker made a small, thoughtful sound. He opened his mouth to continue, and then paused, turning his head.
A shadow fell over their seats. Elizabeth looked up, just as one of the uniformed flight attendants leaned over, carrying a basket of snacks and
sandwiches. Elizabeth blanched. She really didn't have an appetite, not with her stomach feeling like she'd been kicked in the gut.
"Thank you," Walker told the woman, "but no, we're fine."
Elizabeth settled back in her seat. The interruption, unwelcome as it was, gave her a second to regain her composure.
As the stewardess shuffled away, moving down the cabin, Walker looked back at Elizabeth. "So, what did you do," he asked, "visit your
mother's old school and see if anyone remembered her?"
"Yeah," Elizabeth admitted, "more or less. Stupid, right?"
"No," Walker disagreed, "not a bad idea. If you keep at it, you'll find someone who can help. I'm sure of that."
"Really," Elizabeth said, sceptically, "you psychic or something?"
"I'm afraid," Walker replied, self-depreciatingly, "that my divination isn't all that good. But it's not a terribly reliable
discipline, anyway. Magic doesn't have all the answers, I fear."
Despite her tension, Elizabeth couldn't keep from smiling. He was clearly trying to cheer her up. She could appreciate that.
"Still," Walker continued, "I'm sure. In fact..."
He stopped, clasping his chin.
"...hm," Walker said, "I guess there's no harm. Myself...I'm hoping to catch up with an old friend over in America. Haven't
spoken to him in years. We just...totally lost touch, you see. I'm not even sure when he moved across the pond. I hear he's married, too, and...well,
that's not the point."
"You managed to track your friend down," Elizabeth ventured, "that's what you're saying."
"Oh yes, quite. The Internet's a wonderful thing. Though," Walker coughed, "it wasn't simple. I didn't get in touch with him,
exactly. The man's not precisely in the phone book. But I found someone who pointed me to someone else, and so on, so forth."
"And," Elizabeth said, "you found him."
"Yes. Just in time too, I think," Walker grinned, "he's pretty sick, or so I'm told. Not in any danger of conking off just yet, but
certainly unwell. His wife's taking care of him these days. I hope she doesn't mind me dropping by."
"I'm sure they'll be...glad," Elizabeth said, wanly. Then she shook her head. "I'm happy for you, really, I am. But I don't
think it'll be so easy for me."
"Maybe, maybe not," Walker responded, "I think you're due for some luck. Who knows? You could run into someone who knew your
parents."
"Yeah, right," Elizabeth laughed, "I wish."
Walker smiled. "Could happen. God has a sense of humour, don't you know?"
-- Acyl
now, flying back across the Atlantic, with the fruitless search still fresh on her mind, and the wounds reopened...
...he was right, Elizabeth decided. Maybe it was time she shared the story. She needed to tell someone, anyone. And maybe the anonymity made it better.
She released a breath she didn't even know she was holding. It let loose in a hiss, her shoulders slumping.
"It's funny," she began, finally.
Though maybe that was the wrong word. She didn't find it funny at all, except in the blackest sense. Her hands curled, fingers digging into her palms.
Elizabeth started to tremble...before she grabbed the dark thought and roughly shoved it back down, burying it at the back of her mind. She kept talking,
keeping the words coming. She was afraid to stop, for if she did, she was certain she wouldn't be able to start again. again.
"It really all comes back to school and stuff," she said, "my mother...she was an exchange student. This was before I was born, you
understand? She went to England for a semester."
Seated beside her, Walker nodded, once.
Elizabeth closed her eyes. "But a few months later..."
"...she had you," Walker guessed, after it became clear Elizabeth wasn't going to.
"Yes," Elizabeth confirmed, glad she hadn't needed to say it.
Walker winced. "And your father?"
She grimaced. "I don't know. Mom...she doesn't like to talk about it."
"He was someone she met in Britain, I assume," Walker asked.
"Yeah," Elizabeth acknowledged, "I know that much. But that's about it. I don't even know his full name. 'Al', Mom said,
that's all. 'Al' what? Just 'Al'? Short for 'Albert'? 'Alfred'? I..."
Her hands balled into fists. Elizabeth forced them to unclench.
"And your mother," said Walker, "she won't tell you more?"
Elizabeth gave a hiss of frustration. "No."
"Hm, maybe she doesn't want to remember," Walker suggested, "it might be painful for her."
"I guess...no," Elizabeth corrected herself, "I know it is. But what about me?"
Her voice started to climb, before her cheeks flushed. Conscious that they were surrounded by an entire cabin full of other passengers, Elizabeth forced
her volume back down. There was, though, still an insistent edge to her tone.
"Don't I," she demanded, "have a right to know?"
"Yes," Walker murmured, "you do. But if you're angry with your mother, I don't---"
"Damn right I'm angry," Elizabeth interrupted, slamming the ball of her hand into her chair's armrest, "I...I..."
She faltered.
"...I...I had a fight with mom...I...when I told mom I was going to England, she just freaked out, I..."
Walker frowned slightly. "You were looking for your father?"
Elizabeth raised a hand, covering her face. "It's not like I got anywhere. Or like I had any chance," she grumbled, in a mix of frustration
and resignation, "needle in a goddamn haystack."
Walker made a face, his expression growing more intense. "Hm, do you even know if he's British?"
Taken off-guard, Elizabeth gaped. "What?"
"If your father was...is...British, I mean," Walker elaborated, "the UK gets a lot of students from overseas. Like your mother, in fact. And
expatriate workers from Europe and elsewhere. Your parents met in Britain, but do you know if /he/ was British?"
Elizabeth stared at him in dawning horror. "I...I don't...mom said he wasn't American, but..."
"But she never actually specified," concluded Walker.
"Oh God," Elizabeth groaned, "I never thought of that. I'm so stupid."
"Ah, I didn't mean that," Walker said quickly, "chances are he is British, or at least European. Otherwise your mother wouldn't have
been so upset when you announced your intentions."
"I suppose," Elizabeth answered, slowly, "but still...I spent all that time in London, and I didn't get anywhere."
"Mm," Walker made a small, thoughtful sound. He opened his mouth to continue, and then paused, turning his head.
A shadow fell over their seats. Elizabeth looked up, just as one of the uniformed flight attendants leaned over, carrying a basket of snacks and
sandwiches. Elizabeth blanched. She really didn't have an appetite, not with her stomach feeling like she'd been kicked in the gut.
"Thank you," Walker told the woman, "but no, we're fine."
Elizabeth settled back in her seat. The interruption, unwelcome as it was, gave her a second to regain her composure.
As the stewardess shuffled away, moving down the cabin, Walker looked back at Elizabeth. "So, what did you do," he asked, "visit your
mother's old school and see if anyone remembered her?"
"Yeah," Elizabeth admitted, "more or less. Stupid, right?"
"No," Walker disagreed, "not a bad idea. If you keep at it, you'll find someone who can help. I'm sure of that."
"Really," Elizabeth said, sceptically, "you psychic or something?"
"I'm afraid," Walker replied, self-depreciatingly, "that my divination isn't all that good. But it's not a terribly reliable
discipline, anyway. Magic doesn't have all the answers, I fear."
Despite her tension, Elizabeth couldn't keep from smiling. He was clearly trying to cheer her up. She could appreciate that.
"Still," Walker continued, "I'm sure. In fact..."
He stopped, clasping his chin.
"...hm," Walker said, "I guess there's no harm. Myself...I'm hoping to catch up with an old friend over in America. Haven't
spoken to him in years. We just...totally lost touch, you see. I'm not even sure when he moved across the pond. I hear he's married, too, and...well,
that's not the point."
"You managed to track your friend down," Elizabeth ventured, "that's what you're saying."
"Oh yes, quite. The Internet's a wonderful thing. Though," Walker coughed, "it wasn't simple. I didn't get in touch with him,
exactly. The man's not precisely in the phone book. But I found someone who pointed me to someone else, and so on, so forth."
"And," Elizabeth said, "you found him."
"Yes. Just in time too, I think," Walker grinned, "he's pretty sick, or so I'm told. Not in any danger of conking off just yet, but
certainly unwell. His wife's taking care of him these days. I hope she doesn't mind me dropping by."
"I'm sure they'll be...glad," Elizabeth said, wanly. Then she shook her head. "I'm happy for you, really, I am. But I don't
think it'll be so easy for me."
"Maybe, maybe not," Walker responded, "I think you're due for some luck. Who knows? You could run into someone who knew your
parents."
"Yeah, right," Elizabeth laughed, "I wish."
Walker smiled. "Could happen. God has a sense of humour, don't you know?"
-- Acyl