A Brave Start

by Andrea J Severson

  “Yes, it is. But still, no bars on campus. That’s cruel and unusual for those that are of age” Patrick said dismissively, then laughed, “It’s like they expected you all to learn or something.” Eleanor laughed as well. Patrick walked them up to the side counter where you made food and non-alcoholic orders and turned to Eleanor, “What would you like Eleanor?” he asked politely with a wide smile.

  “Umm, fish and chips?” she replied and the woman behind the till nodded. Eleanor scanned the list of tea and then added, “And a cup of PG Tips.”

  “Good choice,” Patrick said with a smile, then made his order, “fish and chips for me too, and a cup of Earl Grey.”

  Eleanor started to pull her wallet out of her bag, but as soon as Patrick saw he exclaimed, “Don’t you dare, this is my treat.”

  Still uncertain after her experience the other night with Mark, Eleanor kept reaching into her wallet and pulled out enough to cover her share and handed it to Patrick, saying firmly, “That’s very kind of you but completely unnecessary. And I insist.”

  Something in her eyes told Patrick that she meant it, and he instinctively felt that if he didn’t accept her money she might bolt for the door. He’d known some independent women before but there was more than independence in her eyes, there was also a tinge of fear. Smiling to try to put her at ease once more, he accepted the cash, determined to find some way to return it to her.

  “Thank you,” she said simply, but Patrick could hear the relief in her voice.

  “Let’s go sit,” he replied. They grabbed their teas and Patrick took the board with their order number on it. He didn’t know where her mind had gone just then but it didn’t look like a very happy place, he was determined to get her smiling and laughing again. They walked around to the other side of the bar to a small room in the back. There was a fire going in the fire place and a selection of couches and arm chairs. Patrick turned to look at Eleanor for approval and asked, “is here good or would you rather a proper table?”

  Immediately falling in love with the fireplace and the cozy atmosphere Eleanor replied enthusiastically, “this is perfect!”

  She went straight for the small sofa across the room next to the fireplace. Patrick, not wanting to make her feel more uncomfortable than he worried he already had, chose to sit across the coffee table from her in the arm chair in front of the fireplace. As she sat down Patrick could see Eleanor visibly relax and get comfortable, the glow of the fireplace making her eyes sparkle even more.

  “So tell me more about school back in the States?” he asked kindly.

  “What do you want to know? I just attended a couple of the state universities. Nothing special.”

  “Yes, but you went to graduate school, I’m jealous. I always thought I’d try it one day, but then got sidetracked,” Patrick said, appearing wistful, if not even slightly regretful.

  “Sidetracked? Oh yes, by RADA and then a successful acting career. I wish I could get sidetracked like that,” Eleanor replied with a laugh, thinking it must have been wonderful to be accepted to the Royal Academy of Drama Arts.

  Looking chastised, “Well, yes, I got very lucky after uni, getting into drama school. It was a great experience and one that worked out positively. But still, I envy that you were able to spend more time studying and learning.”

  “Well, it’s never too late to go back to grad school,” Eleanor said very matter-of-fact. “You’re never too old to pursue higher learning. Or at least that’s what my father always told me.”

  Noticing the flicker of a frown pass across Eleanor’s features Patrick asked softly, “And is that what you want to do? Is that why you’re here in England?”

  Looking up at him across the top of her tea cup as she went for another sip, “Umm, in a way. I’m doing a special MFA program in creative writing. So technically I guess I am back in grad school, just not the type of program my father always hoped,” she explained, her frown deepening as she thought about it.

  “I’m sorry, sore subject?”

  Seeing the concern in his eyes, “No, I’m sorry, it’s not that big of a deal. I’ve learned to live with being a disappointment to him.”

  “Surely he doesn’t see you as a disappointment.”

  “I honestly have no idea. We don’t really speak anymore. And I don’t visit him. The last time I did...well, it ended badly. Honestly, he’s a bigger disappointment to me than I could possibly be to him, not that he would see it that way.” Noticing the deepening concern in Patrick’s face, Eleanor quickly changed gears of the conversation, “Anyway, that’s my sad little story. It’s fine. My issues with my father are the last things I want to talk about right now.”

  Smiling slightly, eyes practically twinkling, Patrick said, “Alright, change of subject then. Favorite thing about England so far.”

  Eleanor smiled brightly back and they spent the next two hours sitting, happily chatting about London and Oxford and other places Patrick insisted Eleanor visit. Eleanor had a brief thought a couple times about how remarkable this day was becoming: running into Patrick again, having lunch with him, talking with him and feeling more like friends than actor and fan, it was all too surreal. After they’d talked extensively on the topic of London, they left the pub and Patrick led Eleanor on a walking tour of central Oxford and all of its iconic sights. He knew lots of facts about the city and all its iconic landmarks. They started with the Sheldonian Theatre and Bodleian Library and Patrick indulged Eleanor’s need to stop in to the gift shop. She knew her mom would love something from there. Then they walked back through the courtyard and went out through the opposite archway than they’d arrived through and Eleanor suddenly saw the Radcliffe Camera building once they came through the other side.

  It had always looked impressive in the pictures but seeing it looming above her it was even more impressive. Cylindrical with a large dome on top, it’s golden stone facade with arched doors and windows along the lower level and columns around the upper level, Eleanor had always wondered what it would be like to go inside.

  As if reading her thoughts Patrick said, “I wish I could get you inside today. You’d love it in there.”

  Incredulously, “You’ve been inside?!” Eleanor exclaimed.

  “Of course,” Patrick replied with a laugh, “The Bodleian is the library for all Oxford students. I loved the upper reading room in the Radcliffe, that’s where I did most of my studying.”

  “I can’t believe that is your ‘school library.’ You all are so spoiled!”

  “What was your library like then?”

  "Well, at ASU, Hayden Library is nice enough, it certainly had everything I needed for my research. So did the main library at U of A. But both were built in the 1970s or sometime around then. They’re nothing like this!”

  Grinning at her excitement, “Well come on then. If you like it from down here, you’ll love it from a little higher up.”

  “What do you mean? Higher up?”

  “You afraid of heights?” He said raising an eyebrow.

  “No, just curious what you’re talking about,” Eleanor replied laughing.

  “You’ll see,” Patrick said cryptically.

  He walked them around the building and soon another building behind the Radcliffe came into view. Eleanor found herself walking in to the University Church of St. Mary. Patrick left her to stare in wonder at the beauty of the church for a moment and when she looked over at him she noticed him handing over a few coins to the undergraduate age girls behind the souvenir counter, chatting with them politely. Both girls were looking at Patrick shyly and grinning nervously, when he was finished at the counter they both said, “bye Patrick!” and as he walked towards Eleanor they both started giggling and quietly shrieking.

  “Friends of yours?” Eleanor asked casually.

  “Sometimes it feels like I’m friends with all of Oxford. Between growing up here and meeting a lot of people throughout my childhood and uni time here. And now people recognizing me a little more from my
work, people are always saying hello and goodbye but I’ve stopped being able to remember if I actually know them or not,” he explained looking a bit embarrassed. Before she could ask him more questions, Patrick grabbed her by the hand and started leading her towards a doorway off to the side.

  “Follow me,” he said mischievously.

  Follow him she did, and soon Eleanor found herself navigating upwards along one set of twisting and climbing stairs after another.

  “Is the fame thing hard to deal with?” Eleanor asked, partly out of curiosity and partly to distract herself from all the stairs.

  “Well, thankfully, I don’t have to deal with it that much. Film premieres or outside the stage door after a performance can get a big wild. And if I happen to cross the path of paparazzi who’re trying to get a shot of a bigger celebrity, they’ll take my picture if they recognize me fast enough. But they don’t hang out in front of my place. On my own, I’m not worth enough for the tabloids to stalk me. Thank goodness. I honestly get more response from people in Oxford, because I do know a lot of people here and over the years as my career has grown I’ve gotten more coverage in the local press back here.”

  “Local boy does good?” Eleanor teased lightly.

  Laughing, “Exactly. I’m not the only person in the entertainment industry from Oxford, there are a few of us and Oxford is usually happy to claim us as their own. But still, the fame thing, as you put it, has never been that crazy or hard. I haven’t had to change much in the way I go about my daily life. In London, I might occasionally get recognized and asked for an autograph or a selfie, which I’m happy to do, but here in Oxford it really does just feel like everybody knows me, and we’re all old friends, even if I can’t remember all their names. Honestly, sometimes I worry about my career getting any bigger. I want to keep pushing myself with the projects I take on but I don’t want my life to change too much from how it is now. My agent and manager keep pushing me towards projects they think will be a career breakthrough and make me an international household name. Neither of them was that thrilled with me doing the play back in the summer, but I’d been dying to work with that director since I started drama school.”

  It was interesting hearing Patrick talk about this side of his career and hearing his thoughts on the progression of his career and project opportunities.

  “So you’re not trying to get more projects in Hollywood?” Eleanor asked.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to expanding my career options, but I’m not intentionally working towards being a bigger part of the American film scene. My main requirements for choosing a job is to do with the script and the production team. Is the script good? Do I respect the director and want to work with them? Will the project challenge my acting skills and help me grow? If the answer is yes to those questions then I seriously consider the job. So far all the projects that have met those requirements have been here in the UK. BBC film adaptations or West End plays or productions with the National Theatre or small British indie films. And I’m happy with that. But there are some possible scripts coming up for bigger projects and a couple of them are really exciting, even though I know they’d introduce me to a much bigger audience. Sometimes getting to do the really cool projects means accepting losing a little bit more of my anonymity when out in public.”

  As the stairways got narrower Patrick maneuvered Eleanor in front of him and whenever she felt herself get a little off balance from the steepness of the stairs she became well aware of Patrick’s strong arms and chest behind her.

  “Almost there,” she heard him say, and as she looked upwards from the steps immediately in front of her she could see sky through an open door.

  She stepped out into the walkway that seemed to go around the edge of the tower of the church and looked out over the chest high wall that protected them from falling off. Spread out before her was all of Oxford and the surrounding countryside. Stunned by how beautiful it was, she stopped in her tracks and just stared.

  “You like the view?” Patrick asked, standing close behind her.

  “Like?! Like doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Eleanor’s words came out in almost a whisper, the view had truly taken her breath away. It was a mostly cloudy day, but in the distance she could see some breaks in the clouds and the rays of sun beaming down on the distant countryside. “This is an incredible view! I mean, Arizona has its share of sweeping landscapes but this is gorgeous. We don’t have views like this back home. It’s so…green! It’s like a story book.”

  Looking down at her and smiling Patrick said, “I’ve never been to Arizona. Is it anything like California?”

  Eleanor threw her head back and laughed, and Patrick thought in that moment that she was more beautiful than the view stretching out before them.

  Laughing, “If you’re comparing it to LA or Northern California, then no, Arizona is nothing like California. Even the California desert, the Mohave, is different from Arizona’s Sonoran Desert. I suppose Phoenix is similar to LA in some ways. Large, very spread out, lots of highways and cars, good shopping and dining. We don’t have movie stars though,” she finished with a sly look towards Patrick and then blushed when he winked at her.

  “Oh yes, all of us movie stars wandering around LA, can’t walk more than a few feet without bumping into one of us,” he said with exaggerated seriousness.

  Wryly, “I can’t seem to walk more than a few feet without bumping into you.”

  “Well, that’s just because I’m a clumsy git who can’t watch where I’m walking.”

  Eleanor laughed again and Patrick thought it would be worth it to make it his mission to make her laugh as much as possible just so he could hear that sound.

  They stood up there for a while looking at the views from three sides of the building and taking some pictures. It felt like ages but Eleanor noticed it had only been thirty minutes. They slowly made their way back down the stairs and out of the church and Patrick led them back through the Bodleian courtyard and then past the Sheldonian Theatre. Eleanor was about to ask where he was taking her next when a sight in front of them made her stop in her tracks and then start to grin from ear to ear.

  Leaning down and smiling, Patrick said, “I thought you might appreciate a stop at Blackwell’s bookshop.”

  Nearly breathless with excitement, she looked up at him and said, unselfconsciously, “It’s like you read my mind!” She quickly looked both ways and then darted across the street.

  Patrick laughed and ran to catch up with her, amazed at how quickly she got to the door of the book store. As soon as he got inside he realized he’d already lost her as she had gotten swept up in the crowd of people milling around the front of the bookshop. When he finally found her upstairs with the secondhand and rare print books, her nose buried in a copy of Persuasion.

  “Now, I would have pegged you for Sense & Sensibility,” he said with a laugh.

  Eleanor jumped, startled out of her mental trip back to Regency England. She looked at him and laughter in her eyes, “Why? Because my name is Eleanor?”

  “Umm, yeah. It’s a beautiful name by the way. And you said your parents were both into Literature, so I guess I assumed…”

  Laughing gently, “Thank you, and I am partially named for Eleanor Dashwood, Sense & Sensibility is mom’s favorite Austen novel. But my grandmother was also named Eleanor, so it was a natural choice for my parents. It’s also why name is spelled differently from the Austen character. I’m E-l-e-a-n-o-r, not E-l-i-n-o-r.”

  “So is Grandma Eleanor your mum’s mum or your dad’s mum?”

  “My mom’s. My dad was adopted. He never knew who his parents were. He used to tell my mom, when they first started going out, that he was an ‘enigma.’ Like it was one of his appeals, being so mysterious. And she thought it was, for a while. But he likes to use it as an excuse not to let anyone get too close,” Eleanor’s face clouded over, as she looked down at the book in her hands, and she spoke so quietly Patrick almost missed it when sh
e said, “If you’re going to be a mystery to your wife and child, what’s the freaking point.”

  Patrick was amazed at how unguarded Eleanor was, and the way she’d let snippets of her life slip out. Determined to get her smiling again, “So, Persuasion then? What’s the draw? Kind of a sad story isn't it?”

  Eyes brightening a bit, and a defensive look coming across her face, “Not in the end!” Finger jabbing at the cover, the thumb of her other hand still holding her place, Eleanor pronounced defiantly, “This book proves that it’s never too late. Even when you think all hope is gone and you’re out of second chances, you can still find love. After everything that Anne and Wentworth went through and all the ways they were pulled apart and all the misunderstandings and confusion, they still end up together!”

  Hands up in surrender and backing up a step, Patrick laughed, “Ok! I take it back. Not a sad story at all. Rather, it’s the perfect story of love and second chances. I stand corrected.”

  “Thank you,” Eleanor replied smugly. “Plus, my middle name is Anne.”

  “Ahhhh, that makes more sense then too.”

  “And Rupert Penry-Jones is totally gorgeous,” Eleanor said with a devious smile.

  “Ok, now I get it. You just like it because of the actor that plays the main character! Admit it!”

  Laughing genuinely, “I admit nothing! I loved the book long before I saw the BBC production of it. I just really love the movie too. And the earlier version with Amanda Root and Ciaran Hinds.”

  “Ok, I’ll try to believe that.”

  “You can believe anything you like, it won’t change the facts. I read this book ten times by the age of 18.”

  “Wow! Ok, I believe it, you’re a genuine fan of the book and not because of who plays Wentworth.” Glancing down at the book in her hand, “So are you going to get it? Don’t you already have a copy?”