Easington Avenues

4 April 2016 — Rome

"Sorry, sorry! I'm sorry!" Imogen called out to strangers as she ran down the street, bumping into innocent shoppers along the way. "Pardon me – excuse me – mi dispiace – coming through!"

Imogen continued through the streets, too excited to get home. She pulled her bag further up on her shoulder and gripped onto the letter in her hand tighter. She didn't normally run home from school, but then again, this wasn't a normal day.

Imogen ran around a corner quickly, almost running into the shopkeeper at her favourite outdoor market.

"In a hurry, signorina?" the storeowner asked, holding Imogen's arm before she almost lost her balance in the near collision.

"Sorry, Mr Olivero! In a major hurry to tell Fiona the most major news!" Imogen was beaming just thinking about the letter in her hand and could barely contain herself at the thought of telling her girlfriend.

"Good news, I hope?"

"The best!"

"Ai, well the celebratory meal better be bought from my shop," Mr Olivero laughed at the excitement in Imogen voice while patting her on the back as if a cue for her to be on her way.

"You got it, signore!" Imogen promised the older man as she continued her run down the road.

Finally, she reached her apartment building that she shared with Fiona. Imogen ran inside, waved to the lady at the front desk, and decided to take the stairs because the wait for the elevator would be just too long for her today. Getting to their floor, and only slightly out of breath, Imogen knocked on their door, hoping Fiona was already home from work so she wouldn't have to fish around for her key in her bag. To her delight, Fiona was right there to answer the door – and she was wearing an apron? The simple change from her girlfriend's ordinary attire had thrown Imogen's train of thought off completely.

"What're you wearing?"

"Well hello to you, too, darling," Fiona replied, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, while pulling Imogen into their home. "And I'm pretty sure you're familiar with this article of clothing, it does belong to you, after all."

"Fiones, what's mine is yours. But seriously, why are you wearing it?" Imogen asked, eyeing Fiona's ensemble as they continued to stand in their entryway.

"I'm cooking!" Fiona sounded beyond excited, while Imogen felt the extreme opposite.

"Cooking?" Imogen gulped; whenever Fiona cooked (or attempted to cook) things usually never turned out well. "I thought we agreed last Christmas that you'd take a break … you know, after the fire alarm went off and woke up the whole floor."

"Oh, c'mon, Immy," Fiona whined, walking towards the kitchen, "have a little faith in me! It's just pasta with sauce and vegetables – it won't burn the building down."

Imogen followed Fiona into the kitchen and sat down at their breakfast bar, tossing her bag onto the floor and gingerly setting her letter on the counter, waiting to bring up her good news once she was sure Fiona had things under control.

"Fiona, I have all the hope in the world in you … it's just, after past experiences …" Imogen trailed off, hoping that saying less would really say more.

"Well, I got off work très early today, and I thought I'd make a delicious dinner for my lovely girlfriend before I move," Fiona explained, excited about the cooking, but upset about the moving.

"Hey – you're not going anywhere for, like, another month," Imogen protested.

"I know, I know. I just didn't think they'd transfer me on such short notice – or that it would be four thousand miles away."

Fiona was referring to the fact that two weeks ago, she was called to her boss' office to find out she had finally been promoted from junior designer to assistant designer. And in the middle of her near heart attack at finally hearing the news, Federico Cavalieri informed her that she would be transferred to Dubai. Fiona continued to smile and thank Federico as she left his office, but soon enough all things negative took over; Fiona couldn't help but think about what this would mean for her and Imogen. They'd been leaving together in Italy for nearly two years and just the thought of being separated broke Fiona's heart. Imogen was almost finished her courses at the architect school and had even applied for internships at multiple companies in Rome weeks ago, but still hadn't heard anything back yet.

When Fiona broke the news to Imogen that evening, naturally, Imogen was happy for her and promised she'd do whatever she could to follow Fiona there. And then, not even forty-eight hours later, Imogen got a letter in the mail for an internship with a well-known architect company in Rome, which promised her not only a year's worth of intern experience but also a job if all requirements were met. The more Imogen thought about the offer, the more she realised she needed to take it; it was everything she wanted (aside from location), and the way Fiona's job worked she could easily be transferred back to Rome a few weeks after moving to Dubai.

After dwelling on the situation for many days, the girls decided they'd make the best of it and enjoy the few weeks Fiona had left in Rome before the big move. Promising each other that they'd stay together through thick and thin.

"D'you need any help?" Imogen offered, watching as Fiona cut up different kinds of peppers before adding them to what appeared to be a tomato-based sauce.

"I've got it," Fiona reassured her, looking up and smiling, when something caught her eye. "What've you got there?" she asked, nodding towards the forgotten letter on the counter.

"Oh!" Imogen cried, "I almost forgot – I got a letter today!"

"I can see that."

"Okay," Imogen began, knowing Fiona was looking for a good explanation, "so the night you told me about Dubai, I started researching architect companies there, and I found, like, a bazillion, buuuut then I realised something – you're not going to be in Dubai forever." Imogen paused to gauge Fiona's reaction thus far, a reaction that was seemingly neutral as she continued to make dinner.

When she realised Fiona wasn't going to say anything until she explained everything, Imogen continued, "So I looked into companies that were more … international. And, anyway, there's this company – Easington Avenues – they're based out of London, but they do business around the world."

Imogen continued to stare at Fiona as she cooked, hoping for her girlfriend to say something, but Fiona just moved on to chopping zucchini. "So, that night I applied for a minor position with them and today I got this letter, and I, uh, I guess I'm hired."

Well, that certainly stopped Fiona, but she still remained quiet.

"I can work for them – design houses and buildings – and I'm free to move wherever, whenever. I can work from home – wherever home happens to be – and I just email my bosses and clients, and I just – it's perfect for me, perfect for us! … Can you say something, Fiones, you're being way too quiet …"

"It's just one surprise after another with you, isn't it?" Fiona sighed, grinning. "First Rome and now Dubai – I guess we're slowly going to take over the world together."

"Mmm, I guess so," Imogen mused, rushing around the counter to wrap herself around her girlfriend. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too, Imogen," Fiona hummed back into Imogen's neck.

"Fiones, I don't want to ruin the moment," Imogen said, eyeing the saucepan on the stove, "but I think dinner's burning …"

"Dammit."