In Another Life

“What the fuck were you thinking?!”

I hesitate, my index finger frozen on top of the buzzer. I vaguely recognize the voice and it doesn’t sound like Jeanette, but I hadn’t been paying close attention. Nervously, I step backwards and glance at the closed window next to the front door, as if I’d be able to see through the curtains.

“You’re such a sodding idiot—I don’t know how I ever trusted you!”

Deciding against using the buzzer, I reach out and test the knob. The door swings open freely and I pause, weighing out my options carefully. I could walk right in (which I’m sure Jeanette would do if our situations were reversed) or I could do the polite thing and wait for the figurative storm inside to blow over.

But the sun is blazingly hot and my bag is heavy, so I step into the foyer and shut the front door behind me gingerly. The shouting match is still going on, though it seems to be rather one-sided, so my guess is that it’s either a phone conversation or the victim is too traumatized to make much of a comeback. Which actually, come to think about, might be true if the screamer is my best friend.

My bag goes down on the floor with a muted thud and I briefly worry that I’ve crushed my makeup kit, but then I remember that it’s stowed away carefully in my handbag, so there’s no danger of destroying it with the rest of my things. I shoulder my purse and walk tentatively a few steps forward.

“You knew bloody well what my reaction would be; don’t act stupid. If you weren’t such a twat, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now!”

“Hello?” I call out softly, peering into the living room.

The girl thrusts her index finger back at me without turning around as she glares at the floor and I bite my tongue in my haste to stop myself from speaking. “Yeah well, piss off. You’re a right proper prat. I don’t know why I even stayed with you.”

Amy, Jeanette’s room-mate, is pacing the room furiously like a caged animal with her mobile to her ear. There’s a lit cigarette in her grasp and judging by the overwhelming cloud of smoke hovering about the room, she’s been through quite a bit already.

She pulls her phone away and punches a few buttons agitatedly before she flings the device at the sofa. She rakes her blood red nails through her hair and takes a deep hit off of her cigarette before she seems to remember that I’m still in the doorway.

“Bryn!” She whirls around and offers me a feeble smile. “Sorry about that. Major boyfriend problems,” Here she makes a face and rolls her eyes.

“It sounds intense,” I say carefully, a bit unsure of how she’s going to react. Honestly I’m glad I’m not Chris (or is his name Calvin?) right now, because Amy is a sight to behold when she’s angered. “Is everything alright?”

She shrugs and takes a final drag off of her cigarette before she stubs out the ember in her ashtray. “I found him with his pants around his ankles, nailing a blonde tramp in the bathroom of the pub last night.”

“Oh… right, well, I’m sorry,” The words come to my lips slowly and I can’t help but wonder desperately where Jeanette is so that I can escape this awkward situation. “That-that’s awful.”

Luckily for me, Amy seems to realize that I’m in a bit of an uncomfortable position, so she dismisses my words lightly and nods upwards. “Jeanette’s upstairs.”

“Thanks,” I nod and smile softly at her before I turn and make my way up the narrow staircase, the wood creaking ominously beneath my feet. Briefly I entertain the amusing mental image of someone heavy plummeting through the floor and somehow manage to stifle the laughter that suddenly bubbles up inside.

Jeanette and Amy’s apartment is quite narrow and small, even by London’s standards. There’s barely enough room for the two of them, but they manage somehow, even with only one bathroom between the both of them.

I raise my fist and knock twice on the rough wood before I turn the knob and open the door to my friend’s bedroom. Just as I step inside, I hear Amy’s raised voice again and I quickly shut the door behind me before I look at Jeanette.

She’s sitting on her bed with paperwork spread out all around her and a thick yellow highlighter in her grasp. Her face lights up with a smile once she sees me. “Bry, you’re here. I didn’t even hear the doorbell ring.”

“That’s because I didn’t ring it,” I reply, sinking down on the edge of her bed and sighing a bit. “Sounds like Amy’s having quite a fun time with Craig.”

“Craig?” Jeanette wrinkles her nose. “His name is Carl.”

“Oh,” I pause and then shrug. “Well whatever. Carl, Craig—essentially the same thing.”

She shoots me an amused smile before she caps her marker and lays it in the fold of her textbook. “Not really, but I’ll let it go. Why are you over here so early? I wasn’t expecting you ‘til 2 or 3.”

“I have to walk to Olivia’s house,” I answer, bringing my purse into my lap and unzipping the pouch. “And that takes me nearly an hour. We’re going to catch the noon train to Essex because we’re having a family party tonight for Liv’s dad.”

She makes a face and stretches so her tanktop rides up. “You’re going to walk all the way to Chelsea in this heat? Love, you will die. It’s 27° outside.”

At her announcement of the temperature, I cringe. I hadn't wanted to believe the thermometer back at my flat and I'd somehow managed to delude myself into thinking I'd be okay walking in this heat. “I know, but I can’t take the tube. They’re a nightmare on the weekends and her station is under construction anyway. So I’d either have to get off a stop before or after and I’ll have to walk ages anyway.”

“Well then do that and don’t walk in this heat,” Jeanette exclaims, raising her eyebrows. “You’ll die of heat stroke.”

“I have errands to run, as well. I have to mail a letter off and stop by work to give them my schedule for the next two weeks. I can’t very well do that if I’m on the tube, can I?” I reply smartly, handing her a folded bunch of papers. “Here are the notes from the last lecture—I’ve highlighted what he said was on the exam next week, so make sure you copy that down.”

“Thanks,” She takes them from me and sets my notes on top of her text. “I’ll drive you to Liv’s house.”

Shaking my head, I zip back up my bag and set it next to me on the yellow sheets. “No Jeanette, you have all of this coursework to do and you really don’t want to drive me—”

“Do you realize that Amanda’d have a fit if she realize I let you walk all the way to Olivia’s house in this heat?” She laughs and climbs off of her bed. “Besides, I’ve been studying for the past two hours. I need a break and I want some lunch. And I can do all of that while driving you to Liv’s house.” And with that she disappears out into the hallway.

I hear the light flip on in the bathroom and I sigh. “Amanda would not have a fit,” I begin, but trail off once I realize just how correct my friend is being at the moment. Amanda would freak out if she realized I walked nearly halfway across London in the sweltering heat.

I sit for just a moment on the edge of the bed, listening to Amy’s yelling downstairs, before I move towards Jeanette’s computer and run my fingers across the touch-pad to wake up the laptop. Slowly the screen comes into focus and I type in the address for my school email with experienced fingers.

It takes a bit to load, for Jeanette’s computer is old, and I sign out of her account before I sign into my own and scan the three new emails hurriedly. None of them were truly important and I had checked it only last night before I went to bed. I had been stalking my inbox religiously every day for the past week in the hopes that I’d receive an email from Professor Harris about setting up an interview, but so far, there was nothing.

A frown tugs my lips down as I exit the internet page and close her laptop once again. I can’t help the disappointment that seeps throughout my body at the sight of no email. I knew I shouldn’t have raised my hopes like I did, but he had been so convincing when I dropped off my resume. He had really made me believe that I had a chance in getting this internship.

I was silly to have thought that I could get it, especially since I'm in the younger grade. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity for any art theory major and to even harbor the thought that I would get this chance to work with the people I idolize and among the art that ignites my passion for my future career is ludicrous. There are so many more better qualified students who beat me out not only grade-wise, but also in seniority.

I should just accept the fact that Professor Harris doesn't want me for this internship and move on with my life. Maybe I would apply for another internship, one that I was better qualified for, and try out again for this one next year. It's really the only logical thing to do.

Jeanette appears in her doorway suddenly, her hair pulled back and a set of keys in her grasp. “Ready to go?”

I nod and scoot off the bed before I shoulder my purse and walk forward. “Yeah, I’m ready to go.”



“I think I’m off to buy something at the dining car,” Olivia announces suddenly, pulling my iPod headphones out of my left ear. “Do you want anything?”

I pause my song before I nod. “Yeah, something light though. Mum told me we were having a huge dinner tonight. Do you want some money?” I ask, reaching for my purse.

My cousin shakes her head as she uses the seat ahead of us to haul herself up. Her body sways with the movement of the train. “No, this one’s on me.”

“Thanks,” I grin up at her before she slips out into the aisle and starts to make her way backwards. I watch until her dark hair disappears from sight before I pull the other earbud out and turn off my iPod. Carefully, because I’ve already managed to drop this contraption a million times and I really don’t think that it can withstand another tumultuous crash, I wind the cord around the thick black iPod and stow it gently away in a pocket in my bag.

And then I sit back in my seat and wait for Olivia to return. Personally I’d always found traveling by train somewhat boring. It’s interesting when you’re in London and you can watch all of the city flash by your window, but then once you get to the countryside, things just get mundane. That’s normally when I doze off or listen to music or read a book to amuse myself.

But we’re about 45 minutes outside of the Essex station and we’re still in the middle of nowhere. There’s nothing to see but hills and grass and the occasional farm. Watching the world dance by hurts my head after a while anyway, so I have to resort to other means for entertainment.

My gaze drifts around our first class car lazily. There are only a handful of other passengers up here, since no one can be bothered to shell out the extra quid for a nicer seat and not many people are traveling out of London for the weekend. Normally I ride in the second class carriages and those are usually crammed full of people. That’s so much more interesting, albeit squashed, because there is so much going on.

I focus in on a tabloid that the heavy woman across the aisle is reading intently. And my heart skitters up into my throat once I realize that Harry is on the front cover. An unfamiliar feelings wells up inside my chest suddenly as I go over his crooked smile, the mud smeared on his cheeks and the way his red hair sticks up at odd angles. His jersey is smeared with dirt, as well, and that’s when I realize that this must have been taken at a recent polo match.

My mind spins off in remembrance as I go over the last time that Harry and I had been together. It’s been a few weeks now, nearly a month, in fact. It had been at the polo game. That afternoon seems like ages ago—I can hardly remember anything about that day.

Okay, that was a lie. I remember every single detail about my encounter with the prince. I’d caught myself on multiple occasions recalling the way his eyes sparkle when he laughs or the way his lips go up a little bit more on one side when he grins, giving him a rakish look, and the way that adorable not-quite-a-dimple-but-pretty-much-a-dimple spot on his cheek pops out when he smiles.

There’s even a creepy part of me that noticed how strong and lean his fingers were, lying on the armrest of his chair. They were a bit calloused from work, but still well cared for at the same time. I think hands and fingers are one of the most attractive parts on a man (I had a thing for guitarists growing up, as I fancied myself marrying a rockstar, that I never really outgrew and thus, developed my hand fetish), eyes and smile aside.

The girlish romantic part of me still squeals when I go over our conversation and I can’t help but wonder when I’ll see the prince again. If I ever see Harry again and the realistic side of me acknowledges the fact that that is a huge if. He probably has no romantic interest in me whatsoever. I am nothing more than another person for him to mingle with at the numerous charity events he attends.

I’m just a welcome distraction. Nothing more.

“So apparently there’s this huge church party a few cars back and they nearly bought out the entire dining car,” Olivia flings herself back into her seat and holds up two clear bags with pitiful looking sandwiches inside. “So this is all they have left. Which do you want, watercress or turkey?”

“Turkey,” I reach for the bag in her right hand, because I can’t stand watercress sandwiches. “Thanks, Liv.”

She sets a water bottle between us and shrugs her bare shoulders. “No problem. Cheers.”

It’s silent for a moment as we both take bites out of our sandwiches and chew thoughtfully. But then I swallow my food and glance at my cousin out of the corner of my eye. She has her mobile out and she’s texting with her thumb quite rapidly, while her other hand holds her sandwich delicately.

“Hey Liv,” I start off in what I hope is a nonchalant manner. “Have you been invited out anywhere lately?”

Olivia looks up from her phone and thinks for a second. “I went out with Phil and some of his colleagues a while back for dinner and drinks. Why?”

“No reason,” I mumble, taking another bite and looking back out the window. That hadn’t been the answer I was looking for, but I couldn’t very well just flat out ask when the next event Harry might be at is and if I could tag along. “I was just wondering.”

“We’ve hit a bit of a dry patch with things,” She admits freely, shaking her hair out of her eyes and shrugging yet again. “People are going on summer holidays; things slow down for a few weeks about this time. It’ll pick up towards the end of the summer again.”

I nod my head, as if I understand what crazed rule of society etiquette she's speaking of now, when in all reality, I have no idea. “Right, well, that’s understandable. But I guess it’s a relief to not be invited to anymore polo matches?” I slip this in slyly and inwardly, I’m celebrating my quick thinking.

“I guess so. I really don’t mind them all that much. Phil’s the one who likes to actually watch the game—I just like to gossip and see what everyone is wearing,” Olivia laughs, reaching for the water bottle and breaking the seal easily. “It’s just—wait.”

I freeze up under the sudden change of tone in her voice before I look up at her from under my eyelashes, doing my best to appear as innocent and unscheming-like as possible. “What?”

“Why the sudden interest in my social life?” Olivia asks, bringing her food away from her mouth and turning so she can see me properly. “You’ve never cared about this before now, so what’s changed?”

Immediately my cheeks flush in embarrassment and I shrug my shoulders, moving my head so that my hair hides at least a little bit of my mortification. “No reason, I was just wondering—”

“Liar,” Liv laughs as her eyes begin to twinkle merrily. “You’re such a horrendous lia—I know what you’re after,” She interrupts herself triumphantly. My stomach drops several inches inside of me and I try to adopt a puzzled expression as best I can. “You want to know if there’s any chance you can bump into a certain Har—”

“Shut up!” I hiss, glancing over at the woman next to us. But it’s of no use, she’s still heavily engrossed in her trashy magazine. “Would you just shut up, please?”

“Oh Bryn,” My cousin follows my gaze and sees the photograph on the front page before she pieces everything together quickly. “You’re so cute when you have a crush.”

“Olivia,” I say in my sternest voice. “Olivia, please. I do not have a crush on him.”

She shakes her head and laughs to herself quietly. “Sure you don’t, Bry. You’ve only seen him the once, but it’s understandable. He is quite handsome. If I weren’t happily married…” She muses thoughtfully before she seems to remember that she’s in the middle of a sentence. “Rest your heart, dear cousin. I have not been invited to another polo match, but if, on the off chance that I do, I shall hasten to the telephone to invite you—oof!” She gasps as I pull my elbow out of her ribs.

“You were saying?” I ask sweetly, balling up my trash and throwing it into her lap.

She rubs at her side just as the Essex station appears in my window. The train brakes and we all lean forward a bit as our momentum comes to a swift halt. Liv scowls at me jokingly as the station is announced over the intercom system. “You have pointy elbows.”

“I do not,” I begin, but my mobile cuts me off. I look down to see Jeanette’s number flashing on my screen and immediately, all I can think about is her ride home. Did she make it back safely? Has she been in a terrible accident? I press answer and bring it up to my ear. “Jeanette?”

“Bryn!” It’s Jeanette and she sounds fine, even if there is a fair bit of static on her end of the conversation. “You—the—from—immediately!”

I frown as I stand up and grab my overnight bag from the overhead rack. “Jeanette, I can barely hear you. It’s a really bad connection. You need to repeat—”

But there’s a beeping noise in my ear and I pull my mobile away to see a tiny flashing ‘call dropped’ on my screen. I only have half of a bar in the train anyway, so my service coverage is awful. I can call her back from the platform.

I hurry off the train and hit redial as Olivia steps off just behind me. It rings quietly and I grumble a bit in frustration. She was just on the phone with me, how is her line busy now? But then I realize that she’s probably trying to call me back too. So I hang up and stare down at my blank screen stupidly.

“Bryn, our ride’s here. Let’s go,” Liv touches my arm and starts to shuffle me off of the station dock. “Hi Uncle Jack!”

I look up when I hear my father’s name just as my phone starts to ring again. It’s Jeanette’s number. I breathe a sigh of relief as I hit answer. “Jeanette?”

“Hi Bryn,” Tad turns to me and opens his arms for a hug. “Give your old man a moment of your time, why don’t you?”

I hold up one finger before I reply. “I’m just getting off the train,” I say, hugging Tad with my free arm and allowing him to take my bag from me. “And I’m just getting in the car now. Why, what’s up?”

Liv ducks into the back of the car and I quickly follow suit, setting my purse on the floor by my feet as Tad climbs in behind the wheel. “Oh my god,” I whisper incredulously. “You’re not serious?”

Both Tad and Olivia look over at me concernedly, but I can only concentrate on my friend’s voice and the words that are coming out of her mouth at warp speed. This can’t be real. This cannot be real.

“Oh my god,” I repeat myself as our conversation ends and I meet Tad’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Oh my god.”