> “Bernard of Chartres used to compare us to dwarfs perched on the shoulders of giants. He pointed out that we see more and farther than our predecessors, not because we have keener vision or greater height, but because we are lifted up and borne aloft on their gigantic stature”

> Johannes Parvus. Metalogicon. folio 217 recto

I walked past my old school, slowing slightly as I went by the building. I should go in, thank the club sponsor, but what should be a superficial wound is still a bit too raw for me.

Wait!

No!

Bad Grint!

I’ve clearly spent so long hiding from loss that I’ve lost some of my ability to cope. That’s not any good. Loss is inevitable. People are mortal, relationships grow and change and start and end. Hiding away from all of that makes me feel safe, but it also makes me essentially alone, and I can’t live like that any more.

People in both worlds say that as long as you put one foot in front of the other, you’re making progress. In my case, I have to disagree. I’ve been running away from life almost since I got here, by burying myself either in my studies or in my magic practice. At this point, the only way for me to make real progress is to turn around. I do just that. I turn around and go back, unwilling to let the path I trod getting here dictate that I keep going in the same direction. I walk to the main doors, and re-enter the secondary school. Classes are still going, so I beg a pen and a scrap of paper from the secretary. I fumble for a bit, but I don’t even remember his name.

Sir,

I wanted to thank you for the service you did me by suggesting me to your colleague at the Omniology. Although circumstances have changed for me and I am no longer there, I gained some surprising insights from my time as an assistant. I owe that to your introduction.

                    Yours,

                    Grintel Coddlestahl

Argh. That sounds stiff to me. If I spend a bunch of time on it, I’ll just make it worse or talk myself out of leaving it. I wait a bit for the ink to dry, then fold the note. Returning the pen and ink to the secretary, I pause for a moment, then ask, “Ma’am, would you mind placing this in the box for the sponsor of the Magic Club?”

“I’d be happy to. Mr. Rawlson’s delighted to get notes from his former students.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Have a nice day.”

As I exit, I try not to cringe. The conversation sounds stilted as it echoes in my head. Sadly, it’s still better than what I’ve been doing. I clearly have some work to do on talking to people.

I head out of the school, down toward the market square where my parents’ shop is located. I can’t think of anyone I owe more to than them. While I haven’t been a bad son, I surely haven’t shown any real signs of being a good one either. Next stop on my whirlwind tour of making things right… ok, right will take time… making things righter.

When I opened the door to the shop, I saw my father sitting at the main counter, looking through a catalog. He looked up at the sound of the door, mumbled a greeting to me, and went back to work. He was probably trying to find a book to match a customer request. My dad, the search engine. Mr. Googlestahl. Ok, it’s a lame joke, but I’m still a bit loopy.

“Hey dad, is mom in the office?”

“Yup.”

“Thanks, good luck with the search.”

“Mmmhmm.” Yeah, he was on a mission. I’d talk to him later, now would be like talking to a brick wall. He’d likely remember the words, but it’d be only me talking at him, not a two-way communication. I recognized the symptoms from my own behavior patterns. Man-on-the-job mode apparently transcended worlds, too.

I walked back to the office and my mother, somewhat dreading my coming crow-feast, but knowing I owed her more than I could adequately express.

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“Hi, mom.”

She glanced at me. “One moment, Grint. Let me finish this line in the ledger.”

I waited a moment, looking over the upside-down column of numbers. It was an adequate income, and it could support me again, but it would be tight. Yup, add another check mark next to “get a job”. They didn’t need to keep paying my way, they’d already sacrificed long enough paying for my secondary school, instead of sending me to a much cheaper apprenticeship.

“There. All done. Now, what did you need?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to say how sorry I am that I’ve been … “ I trailed off, not really knowing what to say. Words. So hard.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s ok.” And suddenly it was. And it wasn’t. The dam broke and words poured out of me.

“I know I didn’t show it well, I’ve been keeping everything and everyone at a distance. I’ve been burying myself in busy-ness so that I don’t have to deal with things, but it’s all coming to a head now. I can’t just keep shoving people away, being too afraid to let anyone in. I think I missed out on something great, mom. I’ve been so caught up in myself, in my issues, in my pain and fear that I didn’t let anyone in. I couldn’t let anyone in.”

I paused, taking a shuddering breath, then continued in a quiet, ashamed tone. “Not even you and dad.”

I can’t even look at her. Tears are streaming down my face, but the explosive pressure inside me is easing. She came around the desk, lifted up her hand and gently put it on my cheek, lifting my head and turning it to point at her face. I opened my eyes.

“Hello, son. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She gathered me into a hug, and her tears stained my shirt while mine fell in her hair. The weight of two worlds lifted from my shoulders, and a deep peace settled on me. It might not last forever, but it was here now, and that was all that mattered.

My dad had come in some time during my outburst, and he wrapped us both in a hug. It was fantastic. I didn’t deserve it, but I was going to accept it. I would build my life. I don’t know why or how I got put into this ThanaTopiary system, but I was going to make the most of it. I already had one mediocre life, and that was without spending it paralyzed by fear. Why was I going for a second one?

Dad went back out briefly to lock up the shop, then we sat and talked for the rest of the afternoon. When we’d run out of words, we sat in a companionable silence for a bit, then dad got up, stretched his lanky form, and patted his nascent potbelly. “Time to head home. Some supper would do us all good. We can splurge and grab it from Garthon’s and take it home, or just eat there.”

“We should go home, dear. I look a mess.”

Being a smart aleck I chimed in with a slightly bemused, “Yes, y...”. Being a wise and compasionate man, my father jabbed me in the ribs then also agreed. Not with the mess part like I was going to, but with her choice to go home.

We picked up the food from Garthon’s pub, carried it several blocks home from there, and sat down to supper. I plowed through my first servings of everything, then went for seconds. Hey, I’m a teenager, and I’m recovering from that weird magic thing yesterday. I’d go for thirds, but the food is pretty much gone. At a nod from my mom, I finish off what remains.

Belly, full.

Heart, overflowing.

Mind, racing, perhaps even more overflowing than my heart.

“I need to find a job. I want to work on being stronger, physically, so I’d like a job that works toward that. I’m out of balance, more than just emotionally, and I’d like your ideas on what I can do to achieve a better one. OK, so not achieve, maybe acquire? I dunno. Words. I’ve used up my supply for the tenday.”

We laugh. Perhaps it’s a little forced, but we’re coming together. Friends may be the family you choose, but I certainly didn’t get unlucky with the family I was given. It might be a little too soon to say the same for them with regards to getting me. As the laughter winds down, I bring up my ideas.

“I was thinking about the guard or the state militia.”

Mom immediately objects, “The militia is based in Holmberg, and you’ll get almost no chance to come home. You’ve been gone for a while, and I.... we want you nearby right now.”

Dad pipes in with, “The guard might be a decent fit. Also, have you considered the railway? They are extending the loop to reach some of the other mid-size towns in the state, and it should be possible to get home, at least more often than the militia.”

“I hadn’t thought of the railroad, but I’m not sure I can be out in the sun all day.”

Mom nodded at that, then pulled out the big guns, “I… We… just finally got to see the real you, can’t you stay a while?”

“I’d like that. Maybe I could live here for a while? Stay with you guys and do a bit of research and training? I’ll visit the guard and see what the requirements are for entry, maybe they’ll have some advice for how I can get ready to be a member.”

So. The guard it is, if they’ll have me. For now, I’m off to bed.