August 31, 2015

Rory hurriedly tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear as she approached the counter. "We need a plate of mac 'n cheese and a bowl of tomato soup for table 5!" she shouted toward her boss, Maria. Rory tore the order off her notepad and placed it on the ceramic counter as a reminder, briefly making eye contact with the middle-aged woman by the stove. She noticed that Maria's apron, once clean and white, was now splattered with tomato sauce and flower, making it seem pink. She had dark bags under her eyes from the exhaustion of the day's work, and Rory knew she must reflect her exhaustion. It had been an especially busy day. Usually, the small restaurant on Charing Cross Rd. only hosted a maximum of 10 guests each hour, but since 3:00 this afternoon, hordes of people had been stopping in to order a quick meal.

Most days, Rory liked this job. The air in the restaurant always smelled like caramelized onions and maple syrup, a combination that would make Rory's mouth water any time. When she was hungry, her boss always let her steal some chps from the kitchen, and the restaurant was usually calm enough that she never felt too overwhelmed. Her favorite aspect of the job was talking to the customers. All of them had their own unique story. Whenever a visitor came in sporting a T-shirt from a different country or speaking in an accent she had not heard before, she made a point to ask them where they were from, where they had traveled, or any other question that came to mind. Every new fact she learned about places outside of London made her long to explore. And around 4:00, the restaurant usually emptied. In these moments, her mind could stray to her long-term curiosities, like how to detect dark matter and, of course, platform 9 ¾.

However, today was frustrating. It was as if half of England had flocked to London. The streets were crowded with people wearing strange outfits. Rory assumed they were either tourists or some of those strange country residents, but the restaurant was so busy that she didn't get the chance to stop and ask. Instead of creating conversations, she bustled around, trying her best to provide efficient service to the overflowing restaurant. The best she could do to satiate her curiosity was to try to overhear parts of their conversations. She heard one man say to another that he was from Scotland. She had never been there. What was the food like? What was the most efficient way to get there? Why was this man visiting London? Then, she heard an eleven-year-old gushing about her classes in the upcoming school year. She sighed, envious of the girl's excitement; over the summer, her usual anticipation for classes dwindled as she realized that she had now exhausted her school's physics course offerings, so she could not pursue her passion for another three years.

She also heard a university student mention hang gliding, and on her way back to the counter to read his order to Maria, she imagined flying through the air, seeing the earth shrink beneath her. She had never even been on an aeroplane and she was dying to see the world from above. There were a few very out of the ordinary conversations, though. Around 8:00 pm, a family of six walked through the door, and each of them jumped two feet in the air when the bell attached to the door sounded to inform the restaurant of their presence. They were giggling as they read through the menu, and the children stared wide-eyed at the other customers as if they had never seen other people in their lives. Despite their strange behavior, their merriment made Rory's heart ache for her own. It had been almost four years now since the accident that took her parents away, and she had to turn around and wipe a tear from her eyes before continuing to clear the plates from table 7. When Rory took the family's orders a few minutes later, they looked curiously at her pen as she scribbled down their orders as if they'd never used one! She longed to ask them where they were from, and why they were all wearing weird poncho-like garments around their shoulders. Days like today, during which there was not time for questions, made her wish for a day off.

At 10:30, when the bell on the door rang once more to mark the exit of the last customer of the day and after Rory wiped off the last table, the restaurant finally closed. She walked back to the counter one more time, placed her notebook and pen in a drawer, and picked up her paycheck. Her eyes lingered over her name, "Rory Jones." It almost felt wrong, seeing her first name followed by Odi's surname, but at the same time, she couldn't imagine her name being any different. She assumed that her name was different before Odi took custody of her, since Odi took the surname of his father to whom Rory wasn't related. But five years was a long time, and her memory from before her seventh grade year had long since fizzled away into nothingness. Rory shook her head to dislodge any sense of unease and continued to clean up after the long day's work.

After wishing Maria a good night, she trudged toward the metro station and caught a train back to her flat on Piccadilly. When she reached her door, she automatically reached for her key to unlock the door. Despite the late hour, people were still out on the streets, drunkenly yelling to celebrate the end of the summer holiday, but as soon as the wooden door creaked open and she stepped into the dark, empty flat, she felt a chill of silence envelope her. It reminded her of falling through the wrought iron archway in the train station, opening her eyes and finding herself on a suddenly empty platform. Over the years, she had grown so accustomed to Odi's presence in the flat that when he got his new job and needed to move closer to it to reduce the commute, his absence was almost tangible.

"Welcome home," Rory greeted herself, trying to fill the empty space. She took a deep breath, inhaling the slightly dusty air in the flat, and flipped the light switch behind the door to illuminate room. The floor was covered in a blue fitted carpet, and there was a matching blue sofa on the left hand wall. A glass coffee table sat beside the sofa, and on top of it were several wires from phone and laptop chargers that were plugged into a power point nearby. The back of the room opened into a small kitchen counter and several wooden cupboards, and a painted blue door frame on her right hand side marked the entrance to Odi's old room. She looked down at her watch. 11:03. Odi was usually still awake at this time, so Rory picked up her phone to and dialed his number. Another way to fill the silence. He answered after the third ring.

"Hello?" his voice drawled. He was obviously tired, too. Rory decided that it must have been a long day for everyone.

"Hey Odi, It's me."

"Well, what do ya know? It's my nerd of a kid sister. Can you believe it's already August 31st? School should be starting soon, yeah?"

"Yeah. It starts in a week."

"That's cool. You're excited, aren't you?" he asked, likely recalling the day Rory bounced around the flat after receiving her schedule the previous year.

"Eh. My schedule… It's okay."

"No physics?"

"No physics." There was a pause before Rory thought about the next question. "How's work?"

"That's too bad," he sympathized before resuming his usual teasing. "Well, aside from the physics obsession, your decreasing enthusiasm is evidence that you might be getting more normal!" He gasped for effect, and Rory giggled. "Are you still working at the restaurant every day?"

"Yeah, same old same old..." As her sentence trailed into silence, her mind strayed again to platform 9 ¾. Where did the railway lead?

"Geez, stop being such an overachiever. Isn't this supposed to be your holiday? You should be a normal kid for once and take the day off!"

Rory rolled her eyes as if somehow, Odi could hear the motion over the phone. "You're a terrible influence. What would I even do?" she wondered, pretending to blow off Odi's suggestion. However, as she asked the question, Rory felt blood surge through her veins. Despite her exhaustion, she suddenly felt an impulse to return and investigate the mysterious platform. She had sick days at her disposal. What better time to explore than tomorrow? There was only a week left of summer break, anyway. She perked up instantly, and decided to change the subject. "Do you know when you get home?"

He sighed. "You know what, kid? It might be a while. This job is going really well."

"Glad to hear it's going so well."

"Me too. This could be my first great gig! The job that gets my name out so I don't have to work so hard to find jobs! And, sure, I might not be home a lot, but it's for the best in the long run."

"Sure, Odi. That's… great. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks. Hey, Rory, it was really great talking to you, but I have another two scenes to edit and the deadline is in only a few short hours…"

"Right, I should let you go then."

"Goodnight."

"Night."

She removed the phone from her ear and tapped the red disconnect button, and then trudged over to the sofa, falling face-first into its leather cushions. "I really need a break," she told herself. She quickly sent an email to Maria to inform her that she was taking the day off tomorrow before she placed her phone on the coffee table and rolled over. "Tomorrow is going to be a new day," she thought to herself as her eyes drooped and her thoughts drifted to mysterious railways and fake railways and fake railways and fake walls.