by Liz Jacobs
“You feel guilty, man. It’s fine,” Jonny said in a quiet voice. “But it’s not your fault, and … I’m not saying this to be an arsehole, but it’s not entirely your responsibility either, you know?”
“No, I know that. It’s just—” Dex broke off with a frustrated sort of sigh. “I’m just a bit helpless. I should go visit them more. Like, maybe next weekend or whatever.”
Jonny rolled his eyes. “You just went twice, and you’ve got a shitload of work to do. Go next month.”
Nick was out of his depth on this one. Apart from one semester in college, he’d lived with his mom until he came here. He had no idea what it was like to bear the burden of far-away family that wasn’t prohibitively far away. Like, on a different continent far away. Like, will most likely never see them again sort of far away.
“Maybe. Anyway, sorry, I know this is boring shit. What are you up to today?”
Nick refocused, because Dex was asking him. What was he up to today? “Uh, Skyping with my mom, probably.” Cool plan, Nick. Excellent. “And I finished my big assignment, so I’ve got some free time. Maybe I’ll … walk around or something.” What a gripping life, indeed.
“Coffeeeee.”
Izzy. Nick hadn’t heard her creaking down the stairs, but there she was, walking through the kitchen in the most disarray he’d ever seen her in. Her hair was wild and appeared to be ten times bigger than normal, standing in a red halo around her head. A ratty T-shirt barely covered her underwear, a fact that Nick had glimpsed and immediately looked away from. He was probably flushed now. She was really cute. She also appeared completely unconcerned about this state of affairs, which made Nick feel a little better. She was comfortable, which had to be a good sign, right? He moved out of the way of her zombie walk toward the French press.
“Morning,” Jonny laughed, scooting his stool over and beckoning Nick to stand beside him. “Had enough sleep?”
“Mrhhhh. Mugs?”
“Cupboard?”
“Right.” She flung open two cabinets at a time, nearly braining herself on the doors. All three of them moved as one to prevent tragedy, but Izzy barely noticed, grabbing a mug with a picture of a cartoon butt on it and shutting the cupboards with a bang. “Right.”
All three of them watched, Nick with increasing horror, as she drained the French press of its contents, then splashed an inordinate amount of milk and three heaping spoonfuls of sugar into her cup and swirled it all together with a chopstick. She didn’t turn around until she’d sucked down half the cup.
“Oh, hey, Nick!” She smiled wide once she spotted him. “You’re still here, yay!”
Nick cleared his throat. “Yeah. Sorry I got, you know.” He swallowed. “Pretty wasted.”
Izzy made a dismissive ‘pfft’ sound with an expressive gesture that apparently was meant to convey her current state. “Please. Anyway, our casa es su casa, et cetera, et cetera, and anyway, Nat’s not been home for, like, three nights or something. She’s called Lotty, apparently,” she added, looking at Dex.
“Noted.”
“Anyway, what was that about a walk?” she asked, beaming at Nick and catching him completely by surprise.
“Oh, uh, I was thinking about going somewhere, to, like, explore,” he said.
“Ohhh, where were you thinking?”
He hadn’t. He’d just planned on looking at a map and pointing to a random location. He shrugged.
“Have you been to Primrose Hill yet?” she asked, her earlier sleepiness all but gone from her features. Nick shook his head. “Ooh, would you want to? We could go together. It’s really pretty, and there’s Regent’s Park, and—sorry, would that be all right? I just invited myself, didn’t I?”
Nick wondered what his face looked like. Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to him that he could see London with actual Londoners. He’d definitely have to go home and shower first. But it sounded nice. “Yeah. Totally.” He hoped he looked enthusiastic and not like a deer caught in headlights. “I should probably, like, let you get ready and go back to the dorm.” He plucked at his rumpled shirt. “Maybe we could meet up in a bit?”
“Brilliant!” It occurred to Nick that he rarely saw Izzy without makeup on. The freckles dotting her nose and cheeks looked like sunbursts. She really was beautiful. She just wasn’t … Well. She wasn’t.
Nick smiled in response.
+
“Privet, milyi!”
His mom greeted Nick over Skype with a grainy, pixelated smile. He laughed, hearing Zoyka in the background yelling about not starting without her.
“How are things?” he asked. It surprised him, how quickly Russian could recede from his tongue if left unused. He picked his words out carefully, rolled them around his brain before letting them roll off his tongue. They felt jagged in his mouth, scarily unfamiliar. He hated that feeling. It had only been a couple months.
“Everything is good with us, of course,” his mom responded immediately with a shrug, as Zoyka popped up next to her and waved. Their nearly identical faces watched him happily, and for a moment he wished he could reach through and hug them, bury his nose in the familiar scents of his mom’s perfume, of Zoyka’s citrus shampoo. “How are things with you?”
“Everything is good. Classes are good, London’s good.” Better than good. He felt it wrapped all around him, a trembling quiver of possibility. He couldn’t wait to let Izzy show him more places.
“Look at him, he’s smiling!” Zoyka laughed, and he stuck out his tongue at her. Mom rolled her eyes, of course.
“Stop that, the pair of you. We want details, Kolechka. Davai.” She sat back, waiting.
Zoyka tipped her chin at him. “How are those friends of yours?”
“They’re good,” he said, chewing on his lower lip. “I’m going to Primrose Hill with someone in a bit.”
“Ohhh, who?”
“Izzy.”
“Izzy? What sort of name is Izzy?” Mom.
“I think it’s short for Isabel.”
“Strange. Okay, and what is Izzy like?”
Oh, he knew that tone. He rolled his eyes, shrugging off his mounting irritation. “Izzy is nice, Ma. She cut my hair.” Zoyka’s eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t say anything, and Nick didn’t encourage her. “Then there’s Natali.” She’s gay. How would his mom react to that? “Also Jonny.” He’s trans. How would she react to that? “And Alex.” He’s black. “And Steph.” She’d probably be fine with Steph. “And Dex.” He’s black. He’s gay. He’s beautiful.
Nick rubbed his palms on his pants. Even through the denim he could feel the wet heat of them. He scratched the back of his head. He hoped the Internet connection was shitty enough that they wouldn’t see his flushed cheeks.
“Well, I’m glad you have friends, that’s good.”
“Yeah, hope they’re feeding you.”
“Zoyka, otstan’ ot nego. He’s been feeding himself for a while now, haven’t you?”
“I don’t know, still looks skinny to me.” Zoya said it kinder than he was used to from her, though, so he just rolled his eyes.
“Nu lando, hvatit.” His mom cut them off. “Chto eschio slyhat’, malysh?”
Nick shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. It was strange. Not much was the real answer, and yet it was no answer at all. He longed to end the call before words tumbled out that he could never actually speak. The screen boxed him in, their gazes pinned him in that box. “Nothing, really. All’s good.”
“Well, that’s good.” Mom smiled. “It’s nice to see you, honey. I’m still not used to the haircut.”
Nick wrinkled his nose and ran his hand over the back of his head. “It was nice of her to do for free.”
“Well, she’s your friend, isn’t she? Why wouldn’t she?”
Nick shrugged. “Zoyka, how’s Jake?”
“He’s fine. He’s being quiet, but he’s here.”
“Hey, Nick!” Jake’s voice piped up in the background. “Is that girl hot? You should get on t
hat, being a free man and all!”
Nick flushed probably all the way down to his toes and ignored his mom’s penetrative stare. He hated that Jake had learned enough Russian to figure out what they’d been talking about. “She’s seeing someone,” he lied. “Anyway, she’s not my type.” And how. He hated the relief that switching to English brought on.
“Shame. Have a good one, man!”
“Thanks, J.” He waved, then felt stupid. Zoyka was smiling, looking to the left of the screen. They were grossly adorable together. Nick made a point of rolling his eyes at her when she looked back at him. “Dork,” he told her in English.
“Kol’, davai po Russki,” Mom said. “You’ll forget it all by the time you get back.”
“I won’t, don’t worry,” he said, switching at once and feeling anything but certain.
“All right, all right. Well, we should go. Jake is taking us out for brunch.” She looked so pleased. For his mom, a creature of habit, it was rare enough to go out to eat: he couldn’t believe that she’d been moved to go to brunch, of all things, with Zoya and her boyfriend. Zoya’s face clearly broadcast smug self-satisfaction at him.
“That sounds nice,” he said, feeling yet more guilt at the relief flowing through him of knowing the call was coming to an end.
“Yes, yes. You take care of yourself, okay?” Mom was all business again. “Well, schastlivo, Kolen’ka.”
“I vam schastlivo!” he said, and then the screen blinked and went black. Nick slumped back against the chair and closed his eyes. Sometimes he wished he had ended up somewhere with no Internet.
12
Izzy didn’t realise she’d rested her head on Nick’s shoulder until about the fifth Tube station, but he didn’t seem to mind, so she didn’t move. She was still feeling the ill effects of last night, just a wee bit delicate. She dozed, too, until they had to switch at Tottenham Court Road, at which point she felt the caffeine kick in. She should have got a coffee to go, but they could do that once they got off the Tube. They stood, swaying against each other, all the way to Chalk Farm.
Izzy had been to Primrose Hill enough times that she felt confident enough in where they were going and made a slight diversion to the twenty-four-hour Quik Stop. Nick trailed her, looking a bit lost, while Izzy procured them bottles of water and chocolate bars to go with her coffee.
“Adventure supplies!” she announced while putting in her PIN at the till. Nick bit his lip at that, which was obviously precious and adorable, but didn’t say anything.
Then, they strode down Adelaide Road.
“This isn’t the pretty part,” Izzy told him as she chucked an Aero at him. Nick tore into it immediately. “This is just a means to an end. I kind of like it, though. It’s quiet, you know? Peaceful.”
She watched him munching his Aero and picking bits of chocolate from his enormous scarf. When he’d thrown one small bit over his shoulder, she asked, “So, why England?”
He looked at her surprised, eyes wide behind his glasses, a touch wary. “Well. It’s sort of—” He paused and visibly girded himself. Nat had told her that watching him come out with it could be painful, he was so uncertain, but Izzy liked that about him. He was genuine. Whatever he said was probably true, even if it was couched in so many layers of uncertainty you knew he could hide behind even the truth. “I’ve always loved England.”
Still incredulous over this, she asked, “Why?” She bit into her Snickers.
He laughed and played with his hair. It looked so much better now she’d taken her shears and razor to him. He’d been cute and all, but now he was looking sharper.
“I guess I can’t really explain it. Like … you know when you just are really, really into something, and everything about that thing makes you want to know more? And it takes on a … mythical quality, I guess, where you almost can’t believe it’s real, but it is, and you can go there, if only you had the means, and I suppose I found the means.” He paused, visibly startled at himself.
Izzy was positively giddy at this outpouring.
“I do, I think.” It was true. “I mean, I’ve never thought about it that way, but yeah, I have things like that.” She shook out her scarf and stuffed her half-eaten chocolate bar into the pocket of her jacket. “I have that with film, but that’s different from a place, innit? Can’t really go there, I guess. And it’s never the same as it is on screen, behind the scenes, either.”
“Is that what you’re studying?”
“Is that wanky?” She laughed. “It’s cool, you can say it. Nat always does.”
“No! I think that’s really cool, actually.”
“Well, that’s sweet of you.” They grinned at each other. “Yeah, I’ve just always loved films.” Every time her mum took her to the cinema, like … before, and then whenever she’d gone by herself afterwards, she felt glued to her seat just watching the production logos at the beginning of the film. Everything about films dazzled her. So many people came together to work on films. Not just actors and directors and writers, but somebody had to have designed that logo, and others had to make the set look like a real street instead of a back lot somewhere. “Okay, wank alert again, but you know how I said that it’s not the same behind the scenes? I guess that’s the best part of it for me. Like…” She paused, knowing she was about to drop some serious wankery but comfortable enough to continue anyway. “Have you ever had this feeling like … something is made more special when it’s seen through a lens? Like … I’m not saying it right, but like … when I see something in a film, even if it’s a street corner I see every day, you know—nothing, like, spectacular, but just something that’s highlighted through someone else’s gaze, I guess—it makes it … special. Not even only films necessarily, but even a photograph or something. Is that stupid? That’s stupid, isn’t it?”
“Not at all!” Nick said. He smiled at her. God, he had a pretty smile. If Dex didn’t make a move on him, she might need to, seriously. “That’s exactly what I was saying, I think. Except for me it’s not just a lens, it’s anything. Books. History.”
“And all of it about England?”
“Largely,” he laughed. “But I don’t know why. I’ve always loved All Things European, but England more than anything else.”
“Soggy Ol’ Britain, huh?” She bumped his shoulder. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”
Nick smiled. “Thanks. Me too.”
+
“Do you want to be an actress?”
They were now in Primrose Hill proper—home to those pretty pastel row houses where all the posh-edgy celebrities lived. Izzy had once actually seen actual Daisy bloody Lowe walking her dog and thought she was going to piss herself.
“God, no,” Izzy spat. “They wouldn’t want me, anyway.”
“Really? Why?”
This boy, seriously. “Not exactly movie star material, am I?” Nick looked genuinely blank-faced, so she did a sweep with her arm over her very non-bog-standard Hollywood body. “Not a size bloody zero, see?”
“Right. Sorry.” Nick blushed. She felt a little bad.
“Nah, it’s not your fault. And whatever, I’ve never wanted to be. Size zero or an actress. Their lives seem shit. I mean, honestly, if I can’t have pain au chocolat and whatnot in the morning, there’s no point to living.”
She’d read enough Hollywood exposés on body crap to last her a lifetime. No thank you very much.
“Nah, I want to direct. Or write. Or both? Both.” She did her best to never actually make a decision or she would doubt it to death. She was sort of low-key hating this conversation, but she didn’t wish to be rude. “You’d think being in my last year at uni I’d know, but whatever.”
“Do you think you’ll get to do it? Direct and write?”
She shrugged, feeling sort of itchy all over. It was one thing to declare, I’m going to do films! at nineteen, it was another to be in your last year of uni, still not knowing what the fuck you were even doing. “Who knows. I’ll try. Start from the
bottom and all that. Everyone knows being a woman in the film industry is shit, but what have I got to lose?”
+
“This is why I chose this place.” They made their way to the summit of Primrose Hill. It wasn’t, she admitted, the prettiest it could be at the moment. The grass was dead from winter. Dried into hay from the cold snap they’d recently experienced. When she’d dragged Nat and Steph out in the summer, the grass had been half green, half dead already—and it was too sunny. Which, like, of course. It was Britain. It either pissed down all the time or was so bloody hot even the grass didn’t know what to do about it.
Nick seemed excited as he stood next to her at the top of the hill. They watched the families playing in the park below them, and as she looked at all of London sprawled out beneath them. You couldn’t beat the view.
“Awesome, right?”
Nick was smiling. She gazed out and tried to see London as he was seeing it. He had never been here, which struck her as particularly brave, just dropping everything and flying to an unknown destination. Now he was here, and she hoped it wasn’t a disappointment. She wanted Nick to love London the way he had expected to, wanted him to love it the way she loved it.
She looked for the spires of the BT Tower, the Shard, the Eye, which she could never not say in her head in Cate Blanchett voice. One who has seen … THE EYE!!!! That one was Mum’s fault. She was such a Tolkien geek.
Izzy really did love London. Felixstowe, where she’d grown up, was so close to the sea you could smell it. Izzy had loved the water, but she’d always felt just a little suffocated by the solitude of it, or the sameness of the town, the people. She had never managed to feel inspired there, for all the nature was beautiful. While it was home, it wasn’t where she’d wanted to settle. She’d actually been born in London, because her parents had split up when she was barely a week old and Mum had taken her away from her shithead of a father, so Izzy really did wonder if it had always called back to her. She couldn’t imagine leaving it now.