Like Never Before

The rain poured down from the heavens, making it perfectly clear to Ella that the moment she stepped outside, she’d be drenched. It hadn’t been raining when she’d left the house that morning. It’d been cloudy, but not that cloudy. There were a few stray rays of sun that had poked out from the clouds, causing Ella to think that the afternoon would be a sunny one, but that hadn’t been the case. Thirty minutes into her therapy session, it had begun to pour, and her eyes drifted from the ceiling, to a nearby window, where she watched with displeasure as the water hit against the glass. She wasn’t dressed for rain. There was no thick jacket that would keep her dry or an umbrella in her bag that would protect her. She was going to get drenched, completely drenched and maybe, she’d even catch a cold. Oh. She hoped she wouldn’t. The last thing she wanted was to be sick during her time in London. She had too much to do, too much to see, to be sick! Especially since she was supposed to go to the National Gallery with Evan, he’d talked of nothing ever since Gwen invited them to go, talking about how exciting it was going to be to see an exhibit come to life and how much he wanted to pick her brain to know why she’d structured it the way she had.

Ella knew the rain wasn’t going to be enough to deter Evan from going. Rain didn’t bother him, the way it did her. He loved running errands in it, taking walks through the streets, while Ella loved curling up with a thick blanket and watching period films, while she drank a steaming cup of hot chocolate. That was her idea of rainy day perfection, but now she was going to have to shower, do her hair and make up all over again, and run off to an exhibit. With a sigh, she opened the large wooden doors and stepped outside, the wind blowing the cold water into her face as she ran down the steps and into the sidewalk. She held her hand out for a cab, waving it around in the air for what felt like an eternity, until one pulled up. She quickly threw the door open, jumping into the backseat and letting out a sigh of relief as she proceeded to wipe the water from her face.

The drive to the house was a quiet one. The only words that left the cab driver’s lips were when he asked her where she was off to and when he told her what the fare was. He ignored her attempts at conversation, being in a foul mood from a long day of driving. Ella took offense, but said nothing. Instead she just sat in the backseat, hands crossed across her chest as she stared out the window. She yearned for a hot shower, for a change of clothes and just a few idle hours of lying in bed or on the couch. That was all she wanted to do on her rainy day and she hoped that they wouldn’t stay at the exhibit to long. An hour, hour and a half at the most was what she was up for, though, if Evan pressed her to stay longer, she knew she’d have to agree. He always went along with her idiotic ideas. She had to go along with his sensible ones.

When she walked into the house, the first thing she saw was Evan sprawled across the couch, still in his pajamas. He hadn’t left the house, having deemed it unnecessary since it was a Friday and there wasn’t any class to go to. He’d done some light reading, also taken care of his laundry, but that only took up a little over two hours, so he spent the rest of his time on the couch, watching a Misfits marathon and then catching a few episodes of The Inbetweeners.

“Ella!” he exclaimed, leaping from his place on the couch. “You’re completely soaked! Didn’t you take your umbrella with you?”

She shot him a look.

“Right, right, obviously didn’t, because if you had you wouldn’t be so wet. But why didn’t you take it?”

“Because it didn’t look like rain,” she replied.

“This is London, though. You’ve got to keep an umbrella in your bag at all times. There’s no telling when a surprise shower might happen.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Would you like me to fetch some medicine? There’s got to be something for colds, somewhere in the house.”

“No, I'm good. Thanks. Just need a shower.”

“I’ll put the kettle on the stove then. Wait. Never mind, I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

“Evan, you’re a saint.”

“I know.”

She bolted up the stairs, stripping herself of her clothes as soon as she was safely inside the bathroom. The wet clothes lay on the marble floor. They’d be dealt with later. She quickly turned on the water, letting it reach the perfect temperature before she pulled on the lever so that it could shoot from the shower head. A content sigh left her lips when the warm water began flowing across her body. She rested her hands against the wall, tilting her head downwards so she could just stand there, relishing in the warmth. She hated the rain and hoped that this would be the last time she got home drenched, though, with living in London, she knew that was unlikely to happen.

The rain was going to be a constant in her life, just like the lack of Mexican grocery stores, but it was a reasonable enough price to pay for living in one of the greatest cities on earth. London was spectacular. In her opinion, it surpassed San Francisco and rivaled Los Angeles, though to be honest, having been born and raised in Los Angeles County, she was very keen on it and even if she thought another city was better, she would never voice such an opinion. To do so would be treason.

After having dried herself off and changed into warm pajamas, she wandered downstairs, where Evan was putting the finishing touches on their hot chocolate. He might have been terrible when it came to cooking, but when it came to preparing beverages, whether they were hot, cold, or alcoholic, he was truly gifted. A bright smile swept across his face when he saw her walk into the kitchen. The house had been far too quiet for his liking. There’s been no one blasting music or dancing around the kitchen. It’d just been him and the teli, and he’d realized that he wasn’t the most entertaining company.

“How ya feeling?” he asked, putting down the whip cream container.

“Way better,” she jumped onto the granite countertops. “I don’t think there’s anyone in the world that hates the rain more than me.”

“What about that Bella Swan? Fancy she does, she went on about it in that ghastly film.”

“Ugh. Don’t put me in the same category as her. Unlike her, I have a personality and more than one facial expression.”

“A bit too much personality, some might say.”

“Those fuckers just can’t handle all of this.”

He let out a laugh. “Of course not,” he handed her the hot chocolate.

“Thanks.” She lifted it to her face and inhaled its rich scent. “Smells delicious,” she commented.

“And it tastes even better. Come on, let’s go watch a movie.”

“Aren’t we going to the Gallery, today?” she asked as she set down her cup and then hopped off the counter.

“Well . . . I honestly don’t feel like changing out of my pajamas, been in them all day, and I love the rain and all, but today feels like a lazy day. But if you want to go, we can go.”

“Oh. I don’t want to go. I mean I do, but not today, it’s raining.”

“How about we go tomorrow then? They’re open all week so it’s s’alright.”

“That sounds good.” Ella said as she followed him into the living room. “I’ll make some stew later

The pair wandered into the living room, where Ella took a seat on one of the corners and Evan took a seat on the other side, lifting his legs onto the couch, which left them lying across her lap. She didn’t mind, that was how they sat when it was just them to and after having covered themselves up with a thick blanket, they were ready to find the perfect to movie watch. They decided on Iron Man 2, both being massive fans of Robert Downey Jr.

“Hey, know what would make today even better?” asked Ella.

“What?” Evan turned to face her.

“If we smoke out,” her lips curled into a smile.

Just a few days ago, Ella made friends with a boy at school, Neil. He was nice, stoned out of his mind, but nice. He’d gone up to her when she was waiting for Evan to finish up in the restroom and complimented her shirt, going on about how much he loved Led Zeppelin, how brilliant they were. He flirted rather shamelessly. Ella wasn’t really taken with him. He was wild looking, having far to striking a resemblance to James for her liking, but she wanted to smoke, she hadn’t done so in nearly a month, and so she flirted. She flirted until Evan left the restroom. Evan was taken aback by him, wondering why Ella was talking to him, but when Neil invited them to go for a smoke; he realized what she was doing.

They went off with him, smoking behind the dumpsters. Ella complimented his pot, and then, casually mentioned that she hadn’t smoked any since she got to England. His eyes widened in surprise, well as wide as they could get, given his circumstances, and he started whispering about his mate, some bloke from Bristol that was his connection. Evan, having never participated in a drug transaction, grew nervous. He always gave Ella money to buy his pot since she always seemed to make friends with that sort of people, so his apprehension was quickly noticed by Ella. She told him that he could go home. She’d be alright, she’d said, but Evan wasn’t sure if he trusted Neil, so he gritted his teeth and went along with them, finding himself pleasantly surprised when they found themselves in Soho, instead of some rundown neighborhood, like he’d been expecting.

It was in a surprisingly clean apartment that the transaction went down. The guy selling it, whose name they learned was Patrick, was a bookish looking young man. His hair was neatly styled; he wore ironed slacks and a crisp shirt with a sweater vest on top. He wasn’t the type that one expected to sell drugs, and after having gotten a few free hits of the different strains, Ella purchased an eighth of two strains, and after Patrick gave her his number, in case she ever needed a refill, they were on their way, leaving Neil behind because apparently, he lived there as well.

“Yeah, that’d be brilliant.” Evan said.

And Ella ran up the stairs, her feet carrying her up the stairs and to her bedroom, where the pot was safely tucked away. Evan wasn’t afraid of someone finding out that they smoked. His parents were in New York, where they would remain until late October when they were scheduled to make a visit. As for his brother, Hugo, he never really stopped by the house. He had his own flat, in a fashionable district, so he didn’t see the point in going over to his parent’s home, when he had his own place that was ideally located where the young professionals gathered for drinks and dates.

When Ella returned, she was carrying the tin box where she housed all her smoking utensils, and also a copy of Sense and Sensibility. She reclaimed her seat and placed the tin box on the space beside her. The copy of Sense and Sensibility was then placed on her lap, she grabbed the medical container that housed the pot, from the tin box, and proceeded to put the pot into the small grinder, where it was prepared so that she could roll the blunt. The blunt wrap was placed atop the novel, and then, very carefully she sprinkled the pot inside, with her right hand trembling (as it always was and always would be), she found it to be a challenge, but eventually, it was packed, rolled and ready to smoke.

“It’s got a really rich taste.” Ella commented as she handed the blunt off to Evan.

He lifted it to his lips and took a long hit, letting his lungs fill with the precious smoke that seemed to warm his entire body up. He tried to hold it in long, but found himself coughing like mad.

“That’s . . . bloody . . . strong . . .” he managed to say in between coughs.

Ella nodded. “It’s good quality. Wonder if it’s really from Amsterdam, it does taste like it’d be.”

“Must be from there, I'm already feeling a head change.”

The pair finished off the blunt, and by the time the small roach had been placed inside the empty mug that once house the hot chocolate, the pair was wearing matching bloodshot eyes and were having trouble staying focused on the movie. Every so often, one of them muttered something random that made them both burst into laughter.

“So do ya . . . do ya think you’ll see him again?” asked Evan, his eyes resting on her face as the film credits rolled.

“See who?”

“The ginger from that night, ya know?”

“Ah. Him, I, uh, don’t think so. It’s been like two weeks. Right?” she looked over for confirmation. “And I’ve been around there, with the coat and stuff, so like, nah, it’s not happening. And I think . . . I think it’s probably radder that way cuz now I can fantasize about it. You know? Be like, whoa what a ginger.”

“I think you’re gonna find him.” Evan muttered, sleepily. “You’ve got to.”

“Well he can find me.” Ella stifled a yawn. “Do you think it’s gonna stop raining tomorrow? Don’t want it to rain two days in a row, I’ll get cranky.”

“Haven’t seen the weather reports yet, but don’t reckon it’s likely to rain again.”

Fortunately for them, the next day brought with a cloudy sky, but not a drop of rain. It was chilly, making them reconsider going out just because of how the cold nipped at their cheeks, but after having put on a thick coats and scarves, the pair decided they were ready to take on the weather, and drove off in the family Range Rover that waited for them in the garage. Evan wasn’t a fan of driving in London and Ella didn’t feel comfortable with taking on the difference in cars, which was why the Rover had yet to see action, but since it was a Saturday, and the traffic was significantly lighter since it was during the week, when the banks and offices were full, Evan deemed it reasonable to take to the streets and drove them to the National Gallery.

The drive over was uneventful, though, if one were to have heard the things Evan was shouting, they would’ve thought that it was a danger ridden drive, when in reality, only one person had cut him off, and another had followed a little to closely for his liking. He kept complaining about it as they drove into the Badgeholder Car Park area, and left the Rover there.

“Can you believe that? Honestly! Where did those wankers learn how to drive? We should’ve taken down their license plates and asked to have their driver’s license removed. Do our part to keep idiots like them off the road.”

“Does that mean I should take your license away?”

He shot her a questioning look.

“Because you have horrible road rage,” she explained. “You went fucking crazy on them.”

“Well that bloke cut me off!”

“Believe it or not, that happens all the time.”

“Well not to me,” he declared.

“Because you never drive,” she laughed. “Ah come on, don’t sulk,” she linked her arms with his. “We’re at the Gallery! You’ve been looking forward to this all week and sulking, even if it’s only a little, isn’t allowed.”

“Oh, alright.” He sighed overdramatically. “Do you remember where Gwen said we had to mention her name?”

“I think she said the information area, like one of those welcome booths where they have all the pamphlets and stuff.”

Since they entered through the Orange Street entrance, they had to cut across the first level to get to the Getty Entrance, where the information kiosk was located. They mentioned Gwen’s name and were given two mini books that she’d put together for the exhibition. The pair then made their way over to the second level, where the exhibition was housed. There were four pieces that the exhibition focused on. It had an entire wall devoted to it, and as they walked along it, stopping for a few minutes in front of every painting, they couldn’t help but be in awe of the work and of how it was being presented.

“Lovely to see you both,” Gwen greeted them, a welcoming smile adorning her lips. “Tell me, have you enjoyed the exhibition?”

“I have, though I don’t think as much as this one did, he’s the appreciator of art.” Ella said.

“And what thoughts did the appreciator of art, have?” inquired Gwen.

“Well, I thought the exhibit was quite splendid. The panels were very well set up, it flowed with incredible ease and having there be more than just one language on them was a very good move, this may be London, but there are always international visitors frequenting these museums. Also, the subject matter was one I'm quite fond of. Pissarro and Seurat are some of my favorite painters.”

“Have you studied them?” asked Gwen, intrigued to learn more about his love for them.

“No, regretfully not,” he answered. “Art wasn’t deemed an appropriate course of study for me, so I’ve not had the means to be properly educated in that subject.”

“And what has your artist heart been told to learn?”

“Law,” he replied. “Though it’s not been all mad, met this one in a lecture,” he smiled affectionately at Ella who was busy staring off in the distance.

“How romantic,” she commented.

“Oh no, it’s not, no. She’s not my girlfriend. I'm gay.”

“I'm so sorry, I just assumed. Since I’ve always seen you two – well you know. So you’re gay and have a love for art. How original,” she joked.

Evan laughed, “I know, I'm extraordinarily rare.”

“What’s rare?” asked Ella, returning her attention to them.

“Me, the gay artist,” stated Evan.

“Oh yeah, you’re so rare.” She grinned. “That reminds me, Gwen, I had a question.”

“Yes?”

“I read online that the Gallery provided courses, I was wondering if you might elaborate on which ones there are available.”

“Why hadn’t I thought of that?” Evan mused aloud. “I’ve gone through the webpage loads of times but it never clicked that I could take courses.”

“Well, of course you can,” was Gwen’s response. “Come on, I’ll tell you which ones are available, and I'm even teaching one. It’s a week in so far, but if you like the material then you can join. And if not, there are loads of other courses, they’re all quite lovely. Would you be interested in taking one, Ella?”

“Me? Oh, no, I'm not designed for classroom learning. I’ve got a wandering eye and short attention span. It’s not rad.”

“Rad?” she questioned.

“It’s like cool, but cooler. And that probably made no sense, but it’s a Southern California thing.”

“You’re from Southern California? That’s brilliant! Are you from – well, I only really know Venice, Hollywood and Los Angeles. Am I by chance correct?”

“You actually are,” chuckled Ella. “I'm from Venice.”

“Like The Doors.” Gwen commented, happily.

Ella’s eyes widened in delight, “You like The Doors?”

“Think the correct term is love. Perhaps even a bit obsessed, but then again, what’s not to love?”

“I hope you know that you now have no choice but to be friends with us.” Ella said. “You love The Doors and you love art, so, you’re kind of stuck with us now.”

“Am I?” she chuckled. “Well I suppose I should consider myself lucky. I could’ve ended up with a much boring lot. So, you wanted to learn more about course?” she asked.

They said that they did.

“I'm to be getting off work soon. How about we meet in front of the Portico Entrance in,” she looked down at her watch, “Say fifteen minutes? I’ll take a few brochures and we can chat over lunch.”

“That sounds great.” Ella spoke. “But are you sure you don’t mind cutting into your own time?”

“I thought you said I was stuck with you lot.”

Ella laughed. “Yeah, you are.”

“Then I’ll see ya in ten. Hope you enjoy curry, I’ve been in the mood for Indian for days now.”

“Did someone say curry?” spoke a voice from beside them.

“No one can mention curry without you hearing about it.” Gwen spoke to the blonde haired young man. “And yes, I did say curry.”

“And you’re running off without me? That hurts right here.” Logan placed his hand over his heart.

“Can’t very well invite you, can I? Going out with my new mates,” she explained.

“New mates?” he asked.

“Yeah, meet my American mates, Ella and Evan.”

He looked over at them, his eyes flickering from Ella’s face to the black coat that was slung across her messenger bag. “Have we met before?” he asked her, finding the coat strangely familiar. His mate had one similar to it; it even had the custom gold stitching around the cuff.

“No, sorry, I can’t say we have.” Ella replied.

“Sorry about that, mind must be a bit off. I’ve had a few too many cups of coffee this morning. Well, cheers, have fun dining out.”