it as, "reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something". For years there was complete trust. Total reliance. Unfortunately, it's the truth part that has begun to fall apart. Fucking assholes. What's that song again? When the truth is found to be lies and all the joy within you dies?
Chapter 11
Although I'd been to the Toronto area several times over the years I'd always arrived with my parents leading the way. There'd been different purposes then. A different feel. The visits were about the birth of a child, a christening or a graduation. I attended ostensibly happy family occasions while half of me remained in California. They were an interruption of my real life, an obligation.
Often Karoline would accompany us, turning the event into a gabfest for two best friends. I realized that this was the first time I'd ever visited my sister on my own. Usually I was on the periphery of my mother and my sister's duo, buzzing around them with Karoline or sauntering off by myself. Not really there. My thoughts ahead or behind. Back in Bell Canyon and later, L.A. Always afraid that if I were gone too long, my world would alter profoundly in my absence.
This time I was fully present. I saw the Canadian skyline with wide-open eyes, navigated the broad roadways with rapt attention. I scrutinized the differences between here and there with a fully engaged mind. Perhaps influenced by my mother's preference for her homeland, and maybe some long-ago childhood memories of my own, I always saw this side of the border as cleaner, smarter, newer. Canadians appeared to either replace the old or scrub them up more often. In Los Angeles we revered the past with an obsession that made the present seem inferior.
Here they used words like maximum speed rather than interstate limit, in that snooty Canadian style. Buckle up became fasten seat belts. Lodging was now accommodation. Of course miles were 'km', which referred to kilometers—with an re. No signs mentioned Chambers of Commerce. Instead there were lovely pieces of art on the roadside, announcing Lake Country with a flourish of blue and white and yellow. Lots of symbols became a kind of universal language telling me where to find gas or food. Though I admired the Canadian sensibility, I loved my American home, our unselfconscious manner, our brashness and assertiveness. Especially the egotistical cocky air of L.A.
I carried California with me in a different way this time. There was no worrying about what I was missing, as though the currents of my life would navigate new territory without me. Move on to levels that I would no longer be able to reach. Switch channels. Those changes had already happened while I was present.
I zipped past the Lester B. Pearson Airport and glimpsed the CN Tower pointing at the sky. Its sister buildings glinted in the distant sunlight. Along the highways, not freeways, I headed east and then north. The rental car was a sleek little grey thing, easy to manage, perfect for a city girl who usually drove a sporty vehicle that fit into any lurking parking spot however small.
At first my heart pounded with the apprehension of so many shocks to my system, leaving my city, heading to unknown territory both physically and emotionally. Navigating customs, the airport, the suitcase and the rental all by myself. No Karoline buffer, no parental guides, no obvious reason to be here.
It was a warm spring day, one of those perfect days that I thought of as Canadian. Fresh air scented with evergreen and burgeoning hay. None of the stifling but familiar smog of my city back home. Fields, miles of them, on either side of the highway. I knew I was traveling at a good time for traffic but I still thought of the road as somehow innocent of congestion. I slid the sunroof open, cranked the music and felt free.
It wasn't until I'd reached the city of Barrie that the anxiety began. Elizabeth had no idea her younger sister was about to enter her
Chapter 11
Although I'd been to the Toronto area several times over the years I'd always arrived with my parents leading the way. There'd been different purposes then. A different feel. The visits were about the birth of a child, a christening or a graduation. I attended ostensibly happy family occasions while half of me remained in California. They were an interruption of my real life, an obligation.
Often Karoline would accompany us, turning the event into a gabfest for two best friends. I realized that this was the first time I'd ever visited my sister on my own. Usually I was on the periphery of my mother and my sister's duo, buzzing around them with Karoline or sauntering off by myself. Not really there. My thoughts ahead or behind. Back in Bell Canyon and later, L.A. Always afraid that if I were gone too long, my world would alter profoundly in my absence.
This time I was fully present. I saw the Canadian skyline with wide-open eyes, navigated the broad roadways with rapt attention. I scrutinized the differences between here and there with a fully engaged mind. Perhaps influenced by my mother's preference for her homeland, and maybe some long-ago childhood memories of my own, I always saw this side of the border as cleaner, smarter, newer. Canadians appeared to either replace the old or scrub them up more often. In Los Angeles we revered the past with an obsession that made the present seem inferior.
Here they used words like maximum speed rather than interstate limit, in that snooty Canadian style. Buckle up became fasten seat belts. Lodging was now accommodation. Of course miles were 'km', which referred to kilometers—with an re. No signs mentioned Chambers of Commerce. Instead there were lovely pieces of art on the roadside, announcing Lake Country with a flourish of blue and white and yellow. Lots of symbols became a kind of universal language telling me where to find gas or food. Though I admired the Canadian sensibility, I loved my American home, our unselfconscious manner, our brashness and assertiveness. Especially the egotistical cocky air of L.A.
I carried California with me in a different way this time. There was no worrying about what I was missing, as though the currents of my life would navigate new territory without me. Move on to levels that I would no longer be able to reach. Switch channels. Those changes had already happened while I was present.
I zipped past the Lester B. Pearson Airport and glimpsed the CN Tower pointing at the sky. Its sister buildings glinted in the distant sunlight. Along the highways, not freeways, I headed east and then north. The rental car was a sleek little grey thing, easy to manage, perfect for a city girl who usually drove a sporty vehicle that fit into any lurking parking spot however small.
At first my heart pounded with the apprehension of so many shocks to my system, leaving my city, heading to unknown territory both physically and emotionally. Navigating customs, the airport, the suitcase and the rental all by myself. No Karoline buffer, no parental guides, no obvious reason to be here.
It was a warm spring day, one of those perfect days that I thought of as Canadian. Fresh air scented with evergreen and burgeoning hay. None of the stifling but familiar smog of my city back home. Fields, miles of them, on either side of the highway. I knew I was traveling at a good time for traffic but I still thought of the road as somehow innocent of congestion. I slid the sunroof open, cranked the music and felt free.
It wasn't until I'd reached the city of Barrie that the anxiety began. Elizabeth had no idea her younger sister was about to enter her
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