It would be a flat out lie to say I wasn't nervous. I was leaving the only country I was familiar with. Granted, seeing as I had never been outside of the US, I'd never had any opportunity's to change this fact. That is, until now. I had a one way ticket to London with no intention of buying a return ticket any time soon.
When it came down to it however, I knew I wouldn't miss the dullness of suburban America. I was looking forward to the alien hum of the city, being the one with an accent, the shake of my nerves as I try to make my way down uninvestigated streets to simply stumble upon an exotic antique shop, a quaint tea nook, or an ancient candy store with sweets I'm too young to look back on nostalgically.
Yes, I knew was creating an unrealistically romantic image in my head. I was young and bright eyed, so I allowed myself the daydreams. They seemed appropriate.
I would be rooming with an old friend of mine from high school, Alex. We'd known each other since elementary school, and while we had our differences, our equally creative brains gave us more than enough overlap to be completely comfortable with each other. Her humor is witty and intelligent while mine is blunt and sarcastic, but we are both fluent in irony. We spent a lot of our summers together in thrift shops saying things like "This shirt is awful. I must have it." I know what you're asking. Yes, we did wear the crazy clothes we bought, but with her willowy frame and my eye for color, we always managed to look grungy and hipster rather than clueless. According to her facebook photos, her tastes haven't changed much over the years. Now that I think about it, mine haven't either.
She welcomed me with a big hug at the airport when I arrived in my new city, my new life. Using her height to her advantage, she playfully messed up my shaggy pixie cut. "It's great to see you Cal!" she said, her enthusiasm genuine. My given name is Cally, so I feel a rush of memories as she calls me by my old nickname.
After highschool, I headed to college for fine arts while she skipped to whole ordeal to move as far away from our hicksville hometown as possible. Through what she claims to be luck, but what I am convinced is talent, she now has a successful pottery studio in London. She has gained popularity on the internet as well with youtube. I've seen her humorous vlogs and amusing tutorials, and I'm not surprised. You'd have to be crazy not to love her bubbly and laid back personality.
On the way to our new apartment, I marveled at her voice. Her years in London had given her voice an accent that was somewhere in the middle of American and British. I had noticed this in her videos of course, but it sounded much lovelier in person.
I found myself thinking about how I wouldn't be here, here referring to London, if it wasn't for her. My paintings had done ok in the states. I worked in a music store to supplement my income, but I made enough to get by. One day, Alex suggested I send some of my paintings and prints to her to display in her studio. They sold like mad. I was at a loss for words when she told me several art critics were already asking to meet me. I made the decision to move almost overnight. I knew the decision would be life changing, and I was more than happy to make it.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is my new flatmate!" said Alex, pointing a camera at me as I unpacked boxes in my new room. I smiled and waved at the camera. "Hi Alex's viewers, I look forward to reading your creepy fan fictions." "Hazzah!" exclaimed Alex, pointing the camera back at herself. "The Cally has spoken. Get on it, you little creepers." She ended with a wink at the camera, then set it away to help me unpack.
After a few minutes of organizing, Alex broke the silence. "When we head to the studio to set up your stuff, I have a collab meeting me there for a video. I hope you don't mind."
"Totally fine," I said wholeheartedly. I was looking forward to setting up my painting space alone. Alex's studio was plenty big for the both of us, so when we decided to become roommates, we thought we might as well become studio partners as well. Splitting the rent for both the apartment and studio freed up extra cash for both of us.
When I stepped into the studio for the first time, I peered over the massive box of paints I was carrying and immediately felt at home. Alex's pottery and my paintings that were already on display lived together in perfect harmony. The storefront of the studio had plush carpet, incense burning in the corner, and shelves full of art. Alex led me through a door to the back of the studio. This is where the magic happened. The space was large with concrete floors. She had taken it upon herself to install a curtain that splits the room in half to give us both privacy as we work. I was excited to see a rug with an old sofa and a hot water dispenser for tea in one of the corners. The floor showed evidence of past artists who worked in this space with paints and dyes long since dried into the concrete. A thick layer of clay dust covered Alex's side. A small smile found its way onto my face as I thought about leaving my own mark on this room.
(Dan's POV)
Her paintings left a mark on me before I even met her. Phil and I arrived at Alex's studio and admired the art in the shop while Alex set up the camera. Cally's paintings pulled me in. Something about the crazy colors and the lack of symmetry made them so wrong, they were right. Faces were present in a lot of her work. They had so much life to them.
"Dan," called Phil, breaking me out of my art induced trance. "Alex is ready to film." If Alex wasn't such a good friend, we never would have agreed to the collab she set up. By the end of filming, Phil and I each had a full face of makeup. We were laughing as we passed the hand mirror back and forth to look at ourselves.
The backroom door swung open and a girl emerged. "Hey Alex, where should I put my tea ba-," she said before stopping mid sentence when she saw Phil and I. I expected her to laugh, but she just said "Lookin' good," and gave us a thumbs up with a deadpan expression.
Alex stood up to go stand by her. "This is Cally, my new roommate I was telling you guys about." Cally's face morphed from sarcastic to a genuine smile as she walked toward us. "You must be Dan and Phil," she said, formally shaking our hands. It didn't to quite fit the situation, seeing as we were in an eccentric art studio with our faces covered in drag queen style makeup. "Big fan of your work."
"Yours as well," I said, referring to her paintings. Phil nodded in agreement. "Nice hair," said Phil, making me roll my eyes. It wasn't that her hair wasn't nice. Her short black pixie cut looked great on her. She had the kind of face that doesn't need long hair to frame it. It was the fact that Phil's hair was almost the exact same as hers. She laughed, clearly also seeing the similarity. "Thanks, yours is also pretty great," she said.
