Back in Montreal

I fell asleep at 1:30 in the morning and was woken up by my alarm at 3:30. I was packed and ready to go in minutes, and Eric carried Maya to the car cuddled in her blanket. I placed her head in my lap and stayed close to her as we drove through the dark and quiet streets to the airport. It was far too early (why do they tell you to show up two hours or more before a flight?), so while I waited for someone to man the Air Canada counter, I traded stories with another couple in line and we moved on to discuss the sorry state of public education in Maryland. There was another long wait at security, where employees gradually arrived over the next hour. There were several sleeping passengers on the couches near security, otherwise the place was dead. When finally through security, there was more waiting to board the plane. I wondered if we could have arrived fully two hours later and still make the flight. The plane was small and a little shaky. I was unconscious until Toronto, where the new airport design was no better than the former one, and interminable walks to immigration and customs and baggage claim took agonizingly long. I was relieved to finally get on the short trip to Montreal, where I found the shuttle bus for $7 for the half hour ride to central Montreal and arrived near the hotel in less than an hour. The hotel was one of those cement behemoths with 771 rooms, with jaded decor and impersonal rooms, but comfortable beds and bedding and the right price on Hotwire. My view was out to more concrete buildings behind. It was sunny and warm and the city was welcoming and energetic and I felt happy to be here.

After settling in, I packed up gifts for Tara and headed to our meeting place on McGill campus. I was apprehensive because I had not seen her for almost a year and had had limited contact with her (an attempt to give her 'space') and our interactions are not consistently pleasant. I wanted a positive interaction and wanted to be sure not to say anything that would get me into trouble. I took my time walking slowly up University and through the gates of the university. I was surprised to discover that my hotel was a straight shot to the site, and although all the way uphill, was relieved that I was relatively close to Tara's place.

I saw her at a booth shopping for cellphone plans, and although immediately recognizable, was surprised that her hair was brown and that she had tattoos that I had not seen before. I am not thrilled about tattoos and hers were primitively designed and executed, and so I did my best to say as little as I could. Our time together was a whirlwind of visits to various offices on campus to get her student ID and other tasks accomplished and then to a street fair introducing students to clubs and activities. I encouraged her to sign up for as many clubs as possible, and she was most excited about the theatre series at one of the student theatres. We checked out her residence near Concordia university (a small space with futon, desk, small kitchen area and desk, balcony, public kitchen and lounge area) and exchanged gifts and then walked up Ste Catherine s to Saint Laurent. Two policemen stopped us for jaywalking and told us next time we would get tickets. Our destination was Little Italy for groceries and cappucino. We did not realize how far it was to walk there. We passed the Museum for contemporary Art and the Symphony Hall before turning up left up St. Laurent. I discovered that the Montreal World Film Festival would start on Friday. I once attended the festival religiously, sometimes seeing eight films a day, so I was determined to check it out again. Tara is studying film, so I thought she would be equally excited about the event.

Tara wanted to have a taste of La Bella Italia, and we walked and walked along St Laurent admiring the restaurants and galleries on the way, hoping to arrive at 'St. Zotique', finally giving up on Little Italy and trying Indian food instead. Our choice was the right one, because we were both exhausted, Tara still recovering from jetlag, and my feet protesting another step. The chicken tikka masala, mango lassi and naan were delicious, but the best dish was with paneer but I do not remember the name. I will have to return to check out what we ordered.

It was getting dark as we walked rather easily back downtown, perhaps because there was a slight downhill trend. I found myself caught in a heated argument, trying to stay steady but hurt and angry all the same, but we held ourselves together as we conducted a conversation of painful subjects on our way home, threatening to destroy our time together. She feels that I abandoned her as a teenager. I tried to explain that I tried to stay out of ugly arguments for years as a way to protect both her and myself and Eric and Maya. Last year I was determined to give her the space she needs to grow up and mature and did not interfere with her decisions and her life. During the exchange I promised myself I would not say anything hurtful, but I did. I wish I knew how to control myself, but in fact keeping cool and unruffled is what hurts Tara the most. I am not sure how we let go of the disagreement, or how each of us calmed down, but there were tears and pain and then we walked down University to my hotel near the river. I expected her to stay for the night, but she walked back with the sheets and towels and pillow I brought for her and spent the night in her apartment. I was exhausted and fell asleep in silence and melted into the sheets for the night, unconscious.