Tuesday at Strawberry Faire

May 31, 2013

NORA POV

I couldn’t explain to you the way it happened, no matter how hard I tried. Sometimes something snaps inside of you, saying “I’ve had enough. I deserve more. This isn’t going to hold me back.” Snap. As fast as the click of a keyboard or the blink of an eye. It happened within me. Everything else that happened from then until I arrived in London is pretty much a blur. I just knew I had to get out of there. Out of that small town, with the judging eyes and calloused hearts that have no room for forgiveness or grace. I had to leave. I had to start over.

&&

As I hurried to pack my bags, I could hear my parents arguing with each other.

“If only you hadn’t been so hard on Nora!”

“Don’t blame this on me this time. You’re always blaming everything she does wrong on me!”

“Please, Ray, just go talk to your daughter!”

“She’s already made up her mind, Helen. We can’t stop her.”

“You’re not even trying!”

It was a little pathetic, hearing their desperate cries and pleas towards each other. To fix me. To fix what had “become of me.” They didn’t want to stop me, not really. If they did, they would have been upstairs yelling at me, instead of at each other. If this doesn’t tell you anything about my parent’s disciplining styles, I don’t know what will. Any wrong move I accidentally or purposefully made, they always yelled at each other about what I did. No one ever approached me, no one ever gave me guidance when I messed up.

Not that I made wrong moves all the time. I wasn’t a very rebellious teenager. Sure, I had moments where I snuck out of the house to see Darren, my boyfriend at the time, or drink with a few close girlfriends. It was all just fun and games, never anything seriously wrong; nothing out of the ordinary for a teenage girl in Small Town, America. Not until now anyways: “borrowing” my dad’s credit card to pay for a flight to London without his or my mother’s permission was a little out of the ordinary.

I rushed to finish packing my bags, grabbing my shampoo and conditioner, toothbrush and toothpaste, soap and razor, out of the bathroom and stuffing them in my carry-on. Clutching my one-way ticket to London, I snuck downstairs, careful for my parents not to see or hear me as they continued screaming about how each other was responsible for my failures. Neither of them were even capable of claiming responsibility for themselves. Glad I never had to see their condescending glares or hear their judgmental cries ever again, I threw my bags in the backseat of my car and sped away, not looking back. Not even a single glance.

&&

A few hours later, I arrived in Dallas, with barely enough time to spare to board my flight. I didn’t even have time to be sad about leaving my car stranded at the airport. I sat in my second class seat, looking around at the other passengers. None of them seemed like the adventurous kind, all dressed for business of some sort. Most likely, they were following the rules, doing what was expected of them, carrying out their mundane lives, even if that did include traveling overseas. It was status quo. People in suits always follow the status quo.

My hometown was full of men in suits and women in dress pants. I don’t know if it is because I am young or if I was born into the wrong household, possibly even the wrong decade, but I have never felt comfortable in a suit. I guess that’s why I always tried to bend the rules. The boundaries that others had set for me were too small, too forced. I wasn’t ready for a status quo kind of life. Everything that had been thrown at me, forcing me to grow up, I just simply wasn’t ready for.

The flight attendant started going through the do’s and don’ts of plane travel with the passengers, and then we took off. I had never been so thankful to have a window seat in my entire life. I had only been on a plane twice in my whole 18 years, and both times I was smushed in between my parents. The whole time, they would make smart-ass quips back and forth to each other. If I hadn’t had my headphones and iPod full of music to drown out the noise, I would have gone crazy right then and there on the plane.

I watched from the inside as the plane floated above the clouds. Eventually my mind started to wander: back down to earth, to my parents, to my best friend Clara, to Darren. To everything I left behind, to everything and everyone that didn’t get a goodbye. Including me. For a split second, tears started to fill my eyes. Then, I thought of London. Of a fresh start. A new beginning. The tears were blinked away, my heart turning numb towards all the goodbyes I’d ever heard or never even heard at all. I turned away from the window, my eyes faced forward, ready to say hello to London and face
what awaited me there.

&&

June 2, 2013

Lizzie POV

I looked down at the cum laude high school diploma that I had spent the last 4 years of my life working on. All the late nights staying up to study instead of going out and having fun had let up to this piece of card stock in my hand. My parents were proud of me for carrying on the family legacy of going to Virginia University in the fall. Being a next generation alumni was the next step for me.

I stood up and placed the paper on my bed below me, walking towards the canvas and paint setup I had next to my window. I had always wanted to study art and was allowed to take a couple classes in high school. My teachers even said I showed promise and talent. But my parents wanted me to continue the practice of law, and join their firm that they started together, once I graduated.
After fighting with them for months on end about art being an actual career and even getting accepted into my dream school, Cranbark Academy of Art, they didn't budge. I was to go to VU and they pay for it, or I paid for my own school tuition and study art at Cranbark. Even with the loads of scholarships I received, I would still have to work all summer and take a year off just to pay for my first full year, so I gave into them. I refused to give up art entirely, and had already signed up for a class to take. It was my getaway, my escape from the world around and I couldn't survive without it.

I looked at the clock on my wall, it was 3 am and my parents had long gone to bed, but my mind was still racing. I graduated from high school today and instead of the joy and excitement that all of my classmates were feeling, I felt empty and lost. If I was being honest with myself, I hated my life. I hated always having to live up to my parents ridiculous standards. I hated that all of my friends only liked me because my family was wealthy and successful. Most of all, I hated myself for never changing anything about it. I had taken it all for way too long and I no longer wanted to be a coward. My parents did not rule over me; it was time I did what I wanted to do. The idea of always living this life made me sick to my stomach. I need to leave this town and get out before it's too late.

Creeping out of my room, I quietly went down the stairs and into the kitchen, knowing my father's wallet would be lying in the crystal bowl he always put it in. I grabbed the credit card out of it and walked back up to my room. 10 minutes later, I was quickly packing up my essentials into a duffel bag, rushing to leave before my 6 am flight time to London. I scratched out a hand written note and gathered my things. Before I closed my door, I took one last look at the room I had spent 18 years living in. I turned around and shut the door, not only to my old life but also to the old Lizzie.

&&

The plane was already late by 15 minutes, and I had been at the airport since 4:30 this morning. My adrenaline was rapidly dropping and the regret was starting to creep into my system. Just 12 hours ago I had been walking across the stage in the civic center graduating. Since then I had stolen my dad's credit card, booked an impromptu trip to London and used my passport for the first time. Now here I was, sitting on a plane (another first) waiting to move to a different country completely unplanned. What the hell had I gotten myself into? Finally, the flight attendant announced that we were about to lift off. My heart started racing as the plane started to move. I gripped the side of my chair and screwed my eyes shut.

"Sweetheart, you ok?" The elderly woman that was sat next to me, asked.

"Yes mam. Just my first time on a plane." I replied. She nodded her head in understanding and reached over to me.

"Well, everything is gonna be alright. It's gonna be bumpy at first but things will smooth out." She squeezed my arm gently, and went back to the book she had started to read. Just like she said, there was what the flight attendant called turbulence but shortly after it stopped.

I glanced out of the window next to me to find one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. The sun had just started to rise, which colored the sky a mixture of deep red and bright orange. Immediately, I felt myself calm down and stop second guessing myself. I was leaving Virginia for a reason, I needed to find myself. I was going to create a new life that I wanted. Not what anyone else had previously planned out for me. The new Liz was going to be adventurous, and spur of the moment; she was going to take chances. Who I always wanted to be, but never had the courage to. Even though I knew it was going to be hard, being alone in a brand new place, it’s what I needed.

It was 7:45 now and I was positive that my parents had woken up to my empty bedroom and the note I had left that explained everything. A pang of guilt rang through me, but I quickly pushed it back down. I was surprised I hadn't cried once since I made the decision to leave, and I knew it wasn't going to hit me until I was actually in London. The screen in front of me flickered on and a movie I wasn't particularly interested in started to play. I grabbed my phone and plugged in my headphones, dozing off to the sounds of Matt Healy's voice.

&&

June 1, 2013

NORA POV

Several hours later, the plane arrived at Heathrow Airport. I slept most of the way over to keep my mind from wandering. I didn’t want to regret the decision. Now that I was officially in London, with only a few hundred dollars to my name, I was broke enough to realize I couldn’t find my way back home. London was home now.

I grabbed my carry-on bag and made my way towards baggage claim. I only had one other suitcase with me. Cramming your whole life into a suitcase and a carry-on is a strange, yet refreshing feeling. Nothing was really tying me down or holding me back because everything I owned I could grasp between my fingers, even if it was just the handle of a suitcase. Once I spotted my suitcase, I took hold of it, so tight my knuckles almost started to look white. “What next?” I worried. “Where do I go?”

I remembered that currency was different here, so the first thing I did was take all of the American money I had with me and put it in a currency convertor at the airport. I ended up with around £300. Then, I made my way outside and waited for a cab. The sun was starting to set and the sky was a beautiful mixture of orange, purple, and pink. Although barely noticeable behind all of the tall buildings, it reminded me of the sunsets at home. I shook my head, realizing I had let myself get distracted and had probably missed a couple cabs drive by.

Once I was able to flag one down, I asked the driver, “Could you take me to the nearest hotel, or inn, please, whatever they’re called here?” The driver laughed to himself a little bit, probably noticing that I was a fish out of water by my American Southern accent and my lack of knowledge about British slang. He seemed to take a little pity on me though, as he didn’t charge me when we arrived to the hotel. I thanked him and gave him a £5 note anyways, telling myself he was one of few people that would help me out in this way.

I walked inside the hotel. It didn’t look so much like a hotel, but like a really big bed & breakfast. I thought to myself that the cab driver may just be the most thoughtful man I may ever come across in this city. On the front desk was a sign, I’m guessing the name of the hotel. “Peach Tree Lodge.” There was no one at the front desk so I rang the bell.

A few seconds later, a middle-aged woman walked out from the back with a bright smile on her face.

“Welcome to Peach Tree, how can I help you dear?” Her accent was so soft, almost reminding me of the old women from back home. Again, I was surprised at the cheery disposition she held. I always thought people overseas were not super friendly. I could just be getting extremely lucky in who I am interacting with thus far, but her warmness put me at ease.

“Hi, I would like to book a couple nights. Single bed is fine.”

“Oh, you’re not from around here? You look peeky dear, you must have traveled quite aways. Staying in London permanently, are you? Oh and where are my manners, my name is Anne. ”

“Uh, I’m Nora, it’s nice to meet you. And yes ma’m, all the way from Texas,” I replied with a shy smile. “I’m going to start looking for apartments and a job in the morning so hopefully I won’t be staying here too long. I honestly can’t afford it.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that dear. I can sneak in a discount for you.” The woman paused, looking at me warily. She was sweet and I decided to replace her as the most thoughtful person in London above the cab driver; however, I was still worried about how I was going to start my life over on my own and it showed all over my face.

“Look at me, dear.” I looked up, right into her eyes. “It’s going to be alright. I can tell from the look on your face how scared you are, even though you might not want to be. I don’t know why you came here, but that’s just it. You are here. I can promise you, it may be hard at times, but everything will work out. Alright?” She offered me a warm smile. I have to admit it made me feel more confident that leaving home was the right choice. Like she said, everything will work out.

I handed her the money needed to pay for a couple nights, and she handed me my room key. As I walked off, I thanked her, knowing I would definitely be coming to her in the morning to ask for help on finding an apartment.

I walked upstairs, turned left and walked all the way down the hall until I found my room. I walked inside and looked around. It was small, with a single bed, a desk, one dresser with a television on the top, and barely enough room for a nightstand in the main room. The bathroom looked a decent size. Honestly, it was perfect for just one person staying there. The smallness just made it that much more cozy, which was appreciated.

I set my bags down and sat on the bed. This was it. My fresh start. As scared and overwhelming as all of this felt in the moment, I knew this was supposed to happen. My two good signs in the form of the cab driver and Anne had shown me this. I know it wouldn’t always be this easy. In fact, tomorrow will probably be a really awful day. I had faith in this place, though. In London. I surprisingly even had faith in me.

Too tired to change into my pajamas, I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes, still wearing my denim skinny jeans, loose, coral tank, and black converse that I had been wearing for over 12 hours. I immediately fell asleep, as the London rain started to patter against the window, soothing me to sleep.

&&

June 9, 2013

After a few days of searching I had finally found a job. It was a little yoghurt shop on Piccadilly Street, not too far from the hotel. Anne was extremely helpful in my job search, and was still giving me discounts until I was able to save up enough to look for an apartment. I cannot say enough about her hospitable and charitable nature. Even after I eventually leave the Peach Tree Lodge, I know we will stay in touch, even though I’ve only known her for a week.

I walked the few blocks from the Peach Tree to the yoghurt shop, Strawberry Faire. I had been around a lot of fruit-named places so far in London. Apparently, this yoghurt shop has been around for decades and used to look a lot more old-fashioned. They remodeled it on the inside to make it look more like the frozen yoghurt shops that have become so popular all over the world. It reminded me of Pinkberry or Orange Leaf.

I walked inside and saw the manager, James, behind the counter. “Morning, Nora! You ready for your first day on the job?”

“Yes sir! Again, thanks so much for hiring me.”

“Oh, don’t sweat it, love. I am sure you’ll be great. I’m also looking at hiring another American girl at the moment, if you can believe that. I’ll be interviewing her tomorrow actually.”

The thought of meeting another American in London made my heart swell. Despite Anne’s company, I had been pretty lonely my first few days here, which was to be expected. Still, the thought of meeting another American girl made me excited. I told myself not to get my hopes up, as she could be a real drag. I wasn’t working tomorrow, but if she did end up getting hired maybe I would work with her soon.

“Alright Nora, I’m going to have Henry here train you for your first day. We should be opening in 30 minutes or so. Good luck!”

“Thanks James!” I replied, trying to conceal my excitement. I didn’t want everyone to know I was kind of desperate for a friend.

Henry was a man who looked to be in his 30’s. He seemed to be nice enough, but I doubt we would become close. He started going through the motions of how to use the cash register, how often we needed to refill the toppings, and how to pour in the yoghurt in the machines for it to freeze. None of it was hard, which made me even more thankful for finding this job. I wouldn’t mind coming to work, which might help cheer me up some.

“Alright Nora, it’s 10:00. You ready for opening?” James asked me, with a friendly grin.

“Yeah, I am. I’m ready.” I assured him with a smile, beaming because for the first time since I arrived in London, I felt like I was exactly where I belonged.

&&

June 10, 2013

LIZZIE POV

I woke up to the harsh tone of the alarm clock on my phone ringing next to me. With my eyes half open, I turned it off and forced myself out of bed to start the long day of job hunting I had ahead of me. I had been in London for a whole week, and was just now starting to miss home. The hotel I was staying in was decent, not what I had stayed in while traveling with my parents, but nice. Of course, the 700 dollars I had in my bank account would only last for so long and I didn't really have room to splurge on hotel rooms.

The staff here were probably the nicest people I had come in contact with, though. I had quickly learned that London was nothing like Virginia. First off, they didn't serve sweet tea at any restaurants and every time I tried to have a conversation with the check-out girl at the market, I got a dirty look. But the staff at the hotel said hi to me every time they saw me, and even gave me a couple tips when they found out I had moved from America. It was those small things, that made me feel a little bit better.

After showering, I shrugged on my favorite pair of high-waisted shorts, a t shirt and black vans. I looked in the mirror and decided that I was ready to tackle the day. Grabbing my handbag, I walked out of my room and to the elevator to go downstairs to the lobby. My first task was to talk to Bernard, the hotel manager, about any places that he knew of that were hiring. Sarah, the precious front desk receptionist, was working today.

"Oh, hi Elizabeth! What can I help you with?" She smiled while asking me.

"Please, call me Liz. Do you know where Bernard is?" I replied and she nodded back.

"Give me a sec and I'll go fetch him!" She cheerily walked further behind the desk. A couple minutes later, the plump bald man walked out.

"Elizabeth! How are you, love?" He questioned me in his thick, deep English accent. So far, that was the best thing about London. I loved hearing all of the accents all jumbled together.

"Y'all can call me Liz, Bernard." I laughed "But I'm good. I need a favor, actually!"

"Anything for my favorite American!" He winked at me and spread another grin across his face.

"Do you know of any places close that are hiring? Y'all know I love you, but I can't stay here forever."

To be honest, I didn't want to stay here for this long to begin with. When I left America, I had about 2000 dollars in my bank account and when I landed I took out 800 of it before my parents closed my account. I was going to use the money I had to put a down payment on an apartment, but when I was cut off that plan went down the drain.

"What a coincidence! I got a phone call from one of my old mates from University yesterday. He and his wife run a yoghurt shop a little ways away on Piccadilly Street and need some help and I told him about how you needed a job and set up an interview with him. I hope that’s ok?"

"Oh my God. Of course it's ok. Bernard you are the absolute best!" I grabbed him and wrapped him in a big hug. "Thank you so, so much." My heart swelled because of what he had done.

"Not a problem! Let me go and get you the address to the shop and I'll be right back." He left before I could even reply, which left me standing at the front desk by myself. A yoghurt shop wasn't really what I had had in mind, but I guess you take what you're given. Plus I needed the recommendation, as my experience is nonexistent.

"Here you are, love! My mate's name is James, and his wife is Charlotte. They will be expecting you within in the hour, so go on!" He rushed me out of the lobby and wished me luck. I looked down at the sheet in my hands and tried to read what was scribbled on it. I wasn't familiar with the street names at all and quickly got lost. To make matters worse, my iPhone refused to work because I wasn't in America so that was useless. I had been roaming around London for a good half hour, and was starting to worry that I was going to miss my interview time window. Frustrated, I sat at a table outside of the Starbucks on my left.

"Are you ok?" An unfamiliar voice asked from behind me. I snapped my head up to find a white blond headed boy staring at me worriedly.

"Um, yeah. I'm actually trying to get to a job interview but I just moved here and I have no idea where anything is so I'm lost." The tears started to well up in my eyes as I spoke. His eyes widened and he walked closer to me, setting the carton of four coffees on the table I was sitting at.

"Hey, hey. God, please don't cry. Listen, we've all moved to some place new. Some more than others, but I've been in the same boat as you. Where do you need to go? I can probably help you get there." His accent definitely wasn't British, and he was way too nice to be from here.

"Where are you from?" I collected myself and lifted up my head.

"Sydney...Australia." He quickly added on that last comment, making sure I knew where Sydney was. Causing me let out a snort. "You're not from here either." He commented, his face growing bright red.

"Virginia...in America." I mocked him, which earned me a snicker from him. His eyes were an icy blue that his hair brought out beautifully.

"Ha. Cute. Um, do you have the address of the place you're going?" I handed him the piece of paper that was in my pocket. "Oooooook. I know where this is. Good news is that you're about a block from there." He flashed a bright smile at me and continued to give me super detailed directions. "So that's it. I'm not sure how far down the store is but it shouldn't be too hard. Uh, I also wrote down the main street names that I mentioned just so that you don't get lost again." He winked at me and slid the paper back over to me with some chicken scratch on it.

"Thank you so much. You're like a little white headed angel." I laughed at him and stood up from the table.

"It's not a big deal. You're welcome." He looked at me almost expectantly. Like he was waiting for me to say something. "I better go before these coffees get cold. My mates would kill me." He chuckled and scratched his head.

"Right. Thanks again. Maybe I'll see you around!" I started to walk away before I realized I hadn't gotten his name. Turning around, I saw that he was already half way down the street and had a phone to his ear. Guess it wasn't meant to be. He was attractive, but in a cute way. I got a musician vibe from him, and that just wasn't really my type.

I walked down the street and took the crosswalk just like the guy had said. A couple minutes later and I was in Piccadilly Square. Surrounded by stores that I recognized as ones that my mom shopped in. Expensive and classy. Finally, I reached the specific street name that I was looking for and saw the shop's sign just down the side walk. The store front was old fashioned looking but inside, you could tell it had been remodeled. The walls were all pastel colors, and the tables and chairs white. It was simple, but not boring.

"Hi! Can I help you?" A man, who looked to be in his 30s, asked me from behind the register counter.

"I'm looking for James? My name is Liz."

"Oh! You're Elizabeth! Of course, James is expecting you. Well I'm Henry." He walked out from behind the counter and stuck out his hand at me.

"It's nice to meet you." I took his hand and shook it. Not even bothering to correct him on the whole Elizabeth. People can call me whatever the hell they wanted, I guess.

"Likewise. Follow me and I'll take you right to James." I followed Henry to the back of the shop and through a pastel blue door, stepping into a hallway. We passed a couple doors, before stopping at one and Henry knocked on the door. Another man, this time looking about 20 years older opened the door. "Mr. Edwards, this is Elizabeth." Henry introduced me.

"Well hello Elizabeth. It is so very nice to meet you. Come in, please." He opened the door wider and waved me inside of his office, also thanking and dismissing Henry. "Bernard spoke highly of you, yesterday. Said you were from America. What state?" He asked while sitting behind his wooden desk.

"Virginia, sir." I replied.

"Very nice. Well, let's talk about this opening I have."

The interview lasted a solid 30 minutes. Simple and painless with very little questioning. It paid less than what I was expecting, but a job is a job and I would take anything I was offered. Mr. Edwards was professional, but nice and good spirited. He had a warm smile that put you to ease, and didn't make me feel uncomfortable once. When I was leaving, he told me that they would call to let me know when my first day would be. I thanked him multiple times, telling him that I was excited to have this opportunity to work for him. My parents would be so proud to know that I was on my best behavior.

My parents. I had had such a busy day that my mind hadn't wondered to that dark space once. But now, as I sat on my bed at 3 am, with a bottle of wine that I had picked up on my way home, I finally let myself think about all that I had left behind. The tears were pouring out of my eyes, and I wanted to be home. But I couldn't go back. Richmond was no longer my home. I wiped the tears from eyes and finished off the wine in my glass. I was no longer going to pity myself for the decision that my parents had forced me to make. For all I cared, they had this coming and one day they'll regret everything they had done to me. I had gotten a job and moved to a different country on my own and if that didn't prove to them that I didn't need them, I didn't know what would.

Crawling into my bed, I reflected on the day I had, from the nameless blond haired boy that helped me to the new job that I started soon. I closed my eyes, feeling excited about what other surprises London had in store for me.