The First Part of Chapter 10: Thanksgiving

Clarissa told James that she would be buying the tickets, as first of all they were visiting her parents rather than his, and secondly James was much busier than Clarissa during the last week of September, which became clear when they compared their schedules; this wasn`t always the case; on some occasions, Clarissa would be busier, and that last week was one when James had a heavier workload; Clarissa had been fielding questions from the Minister, while James had been making calls to various companies and doing complicated financial analyses and assessments of the markets for various products. That night, they greeted each other in the usual way, which at that point in their marriage was a passionate kiss. There was something else on James’s mind; last night, he and Clarissa were passionate in bed as usual, but James found something wrong, and it was starting to gnaw on his mind, but he could not place it.

“Is there something the matter, dear?”

“No, nothing; just some account at work,”

“Well, then, let’s hear all about it,” said Clarissa. James felt very lucky that he had her; he thought very few women would be interested in hearing the details of a publishing house looking to make some more money, particularly as romantic conversation.

The ride on the train passed largely without incident, and it was quite a pleasant trip, far more relaxing and much faster than travelling by car or coach. It also had its romantic aspects. James and Clarissa passed most of the ride holding hands, or glancing out at the passing scenery, which was forest at first when they left the city, interspersed with some swamp, followed by idyllic pastoral scenes. They ordered dinner off the trolley, which consisted of turkey sandwiches and some cheese, for which Clarissa had a taste and James simply adored.

They ate quietly and enjoyed the view, which meant the forests passing by, the marshes, and each other. James considered the train to be the most relaxing method of travelling long distances; the bicycle was the most relaxing of all, but it was unsuitable for travelling further than 100 kilometres. Not that he found train travel entirely pleasurable; each form of travel had its limit of pleasantness and for the train, this was about four hours, similar to the limit for bicycling. For walking, it was one hour––enough to take one seven kilometres on a brisk stroll, while any more than ten minutes in the car was uncomfortable for a passenger, and any time at all in those boxes was jarring for James when he was driving. The trip to Toronto would last five hours, just long enough for him to need to stretch his legs once they reached Union Station; the best location for doing this was obvious for anyone: the Great Hall, purpose-built to inspire awe in anyone visiting the city; it was a message that one would like to have communicated about their city: “Welcome to Toronto”, if not visible at any point in the interior space, was etched into the spirit of the place.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, not considering how schmaltzy he sounded at that moment.

“I love the sound of your voice,” replied Clarissa.

The sun had set, and the view of the countryside visible out of the window in the day had to be imagined; James pictured forests interspersed with some farmland.

James fell asleep after the train left Kingston at seven, somewhat sedated from dinner, and much more so from the effects of not moving much for some time, and it was nine o’clock when they arrived in Toronto. The city, illuminated, presented itself against the dark backdrop, and it was beautiful as it glittered in the still-warm air without, while James slept on Clarissa’s shoulder in the air-conditioned carriage. James woke up after the train had passed Danforth Station, and he could see the bank towers, the office buildings, the high-rise condominiums, and the CN Tower outside the window as the train curved south; this view was presented to them for a minute before it slipped away again as the train slowed and turned west.

James was slightly groggy from the effects of sleep as the train emptied into the underground concourse, but the feeling went away to some degree as he crossed the concourse and went into the cavernous and ornate Great Hall.


Margaret thought, finally; we can introduce the married couple to the rest of the family; I’ll admit, to myself at least, that I was perhaps judging James a bit hard, as if we started off on the wrong track; I can’t start over, which is unfortunate, but maybe I can smile a little to him. She looked at her watch, and then at the elegant terminal building lit orange by the streetlights; they ought to be here soon, she thought. One always needs to be candid to oneself; how will one get through life otherwise? Oh, that simply sounds like I would be hiding behind a mask, doesn’t it? No matter what, I will extend a hand to James. At least I started out right with the other two; now we have a beautiful family, though I feel slightly uncomfortable with a second now; she’s moving so fast. They should just enjoy each other’s company for a few years, and then get down to business. Speaking of which, there they are now. Margaret got out of the car she was waiting in and went to greet Clarissa and James. It then occurred to her: why had they neglected to buy a car? She knew James had one, but she considered that car non-operational; he put his garbage can in front of it, and stored his grill there, too. After ten years of living alone, one would think one would have gone out, and purchased a decent, serviceable compact car, or a sedan, or something; but no, I have to drive down here from Willowdale, through terrible traffic––on the way back, of course; there weren’t too many cars on the highway travelling south––because they wanted to take the train here. Are they familiar with how congested Front Street can get in front of Union Station? Damn cabbies!

“Hi mom,”

“Hello Mrs. Varrette. You know, we could have easily taken the subway to Finch, and you could have picked us up there.”

“But that would involve going into the smelly subway; I wouldn’t want you to experience that,”

“This is Toronto, not New York, you know. And anyways, it’s far safer than travelling in the car,”

Why must he be so grating? Always poking holes in my plans.

“Well, I’m here, so please get in the car,” said Margaret.

Not wanting to cause any more of a fuss, James got into her Mercedes, and Clarissa followed. It being rush hour, traffic was crawling from the moment they got on the Gardiner, all the way up the Don Valley Parkway. What had taken Margaret no longer than twenty minutes now took nearly an hour going the other way. Margaret was irritated, and were she not, she would have noticed the natural beauty of the Don Valley, with the maples, elms and oaks showing the first colours of autumn. She normally liked the drive down the Parkway in almost any season, as it looked pretty with all the trees, with their various shades of green in the summer, or yellow, orange and red in the fall. It lent a relaxing atmosphere to what would have been an irritable drive were the trees absent. Now, however, her mind was on the road, on the over-crowding of all the cars around her, in particular that man in the convertible in front of her. She didn’t like the look of the two people in the van slightly ahead of her and to the right, either. That she was not alone in the car made things worse; she didn’t wish others to see her temper, particularly not her son-in-law.

“Had we taken the subway to Finch, we wouldn’t be in this problem.”

“Yes, well, here we are,” grumbled Margaret, peeved at the incessant needling.

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