A Brave Start Page 7

  Walking into the classroom Eleanor saw that a few other students had arrived and that all the desks were facing the center of the room, forming a giant circle. As more students came trickling in Eleanor became increasingly nervous. They all looked so much younger than she was, and she was the only American as far as she could tell.

  “Hiya!” said a voice beside her. Glancing over quickly Eleanor realized that a young, male student had sat down beside her.

  “Hi,” she replied tentatively.

  “You’re the American, aren’t you?”

  Eleanor’s heart sunk. “The American? Does that mean I’m the only one?”

  “Don’t worry, it’s cool. I heard there was an American in the program this year. I studied in the States for a year when I was at Uni, so I kind of understand being out of your element. I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Jack Taylor.”

  He seemed like a nice guy, about 5 years younger than Eleanor by her estimation. He had a kind smile and she was grateful.

  “I’m Eleanor Gordon,” she replied with a shy smile. “But how did you know I was American, is it that obvious?” she asked, glancing down at her outfit, she’d so carefully planned out her ‘first day of school’ outfit, choosing slim fit black trousers, that just grazed her ankles, fuchsia flats with bows at the back of the heel, and a matching fuchsia top that was fitted through the body, but had loose sleeves that were three-quarter length and billowed around her arms, showing off the stack of bangle bracelets on her right hand.

  As if reading her mind Jack laughed, “No, it’s not obvious, I was behind you downstairs when you gave your name at reception. Your outfit’s reyt good, you definitely look the part.”

  Confused, “what good?”

  “Ah, soz, even Londoners have trouble with my accent. Reyt. Like, if something is reyt good, it’s really good.”

  “Gotcha,” Eleanor said smiling. “And soz?

  Jack laughed, “Luv, I’m going to have to teach you so much. Soz means sorry. You’ll hear a lot of people use that one. But reyt is more of a northern thing. I’m from Sheffield originally.” Looking back at her outfit, “Isn’t that top from Zara?”

  Now it was Eleanor’s turn to give a small laugh. “Yes, it is. But I got this a few months ago at the one back home.”

  “Nice! Where do you live? New York? LA?" Jack asked.

  “No, Phoenix. They’re finally getting civilized as far as shopping options go. And for what they still don’t have what ASOS usually provides,” she said with a smile.

  “ASOS has the best stuff! Oh, it’s so nice to meet someone who understands!”

  “I know! Jonathan thinks I’m crazy for all the shopping I do.”

  “That your boyfriend?”

  “Oh, um...no, Jon’s my cousin. Though, my ex never understood my shopping habits either,” Eleanor replied with a grimace.

  “Soz, I can tell that’s a bit of a sore subject. Was it recent then?”

  “Recent enough,” she said with a frown. “But it’s fine now. You have to move on right?”

  “Aye!” Jack replied enthusiastically. “So, how long have you been in London?”

  “About a week. It’s all gone by in a blur.”

  “Are you staying nearby?”

  “I’m staying with my cousin, he has a flat in Holborn.”

  “Holborn, eh? Nice area.”

  “Seems pretty nice, this is the first time I’m visiting him here. His parents lived near Cambridge, and his mom lives in Bath now, so I’ve visited them there before. I haven’t really spent time in London, other than once when I was little.”

  “What does he do? Is he a barrister?”

  “No, he’s a student at LSE. But don’t ask me for more information than that, because I really don’t understand his major. Something to do with politics and the economy.”

  “I have a cousin like that. He’s at Cambridge. He’s studying astrophysics. Family gatherings are so boring, he doesn’t know how to talk about anything else.”

  “And what about you?” Eleanor asked curiously.

  “I read English Literature at uni up in Manchester,” Jack replied. “It was fun, and I ended up with a job at a publishing company here in London. Nothing grand, just proofreading, but it’s a job, and it provides enough free time for me to write. This program seemed like a good way to force me to write more. I can get a little lazy about it sometimes. What about you? Where did you go to uni?”

  “Oh, um, I went to uni back in the states. My home state, Arizona. I did my undergrad at Arizona State, that’s in Phoenix. Well, technically Tempe, but most people outside of Arizona don’t know Tempe.”

  “Nope, can’t say I’ve heard of it.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Anyway, I then did a Masters at University of Arizona, which is in Tucson. Both were English degrees.”

  “Oh, Literature?”

  “No, in undergrad I didn’t really specialize. I took some Lit, as well as Rhetoric, Advanced Composition, Creative Writing, basically as many English classes as I could, including some Shakespeare and Early American Drama classes in the School of Theatre. For my Masters, I was a Rhetoric and Composition focus.”

  “Rhetoric? So that’s like speeches and persuasion and the like, yeah?” Jack pondered curiously.

  “Basically, it’s a little more specific than that, but I won’t bore you with the details,” Eleanor replied dismissively.

  “Oh no, I don’t think it’s boring! Believe me,” Jack said, dropping his voice and leaning closer to Eleanor, “You would not believe how boring some of these lads and lasses here are. I’ve been talking with some of them this morning, a lot of rich kids with mummy and daddy paying the bills, finished uni, but want to keep avoiding getting a real job and starting their lives. I envy that you’ve been to graduate school before! I didn’t have the energy. I’m just hoping I’ll get through this program!”

  “I know, me too,” Eleanor admitted nervously.

  “Oh, with your experience I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  “But you’ve worked in publishing, you’ve seen the type of work we’re supposed to be preparing for.”

  “I like you,” Jack exclaimed suddenly. Eleanor started a little bit, taken aback by his abruptness. “No, don’t get me wrong, not in an ‘awkwardly-forward-run-and-hide-from-the-creeper’ kind of way, just, you seem a really cool person. And I’m glad to meet you. I feel like this year will be easier with friends here who know what this is like. So, if you ever want to meet up to work on our writing or just chat about the program or ideas, that would be cool.”

  Jack suddenly looked so nervous and vulnerable, and Eleanor immediately warmed to him. She could tell that he was truly offering friendship. He had an energetic personality, one that made her smile and feel at ease. There was a quirkiness to him that she instantly related to. And he had a point. Right now, her only “friend” was Jonathan and though he’s a student too, LSE and the work he is doing is completely different. Eleanor suddenly realized how nice it would be to have a friend here at school, someone who would understand what she’d be going through over the next twelve months.

  Smiling, “I think that would be really nice.”

  Jack beamed, “Brilliant!”

  At that moment, the instructor walked into the classroom and the rest of the day got swept away in a blur of introductions to the program, what the students could expect from the next twelve months, what would be expected from them, going to the Monday seminars and workshops, and Eleanor ending up feeling completely overwhelmed.

  She’d read all the information about the program but being there was completely different. There would be different seminars and workshops every day, Monday through Thursday, with Friday designated as a “writing day.” There would be classes on everything from grammar and format to genre workshops. Eleanor thought she was good at grammar and formatting and hoped she’d have an edge there, until she realized that the British have different ways of doing things and a lot of what she k
new and did were considered incorrect here. And she’d never really thought about genre, she just liked writing stories. She was interested in the business side of things they were going to be covering but by the end of that seminar session her head was swimming at the thought of writing the perfect query and submission letters. Eleanor and Jack had stuck together through most of the day, but got separated before the last couple of workshops. By the end of the day Eleanor felt like her brain was going to explode and she fled from the building.

  She got out onto the street and nearly collided with a man in a very nice suit, yelling into his cell phone. He gave her a dirty look and continued on his way in a rush. She felt herself getting swept up in the crowd of City workers rushing off to dinner meetings or the pub after a long day of work. She knew she was going in the wrong direction but she didn’t care. All she wanted to do was get as far away from the school as possible. Eventually she calmed down enough to stop and get her bearings and soon made her way home to the flat. On the way home, she passed by pub after pub with laughing and smiling people outside, enjoying pints and cocktails and chatting about their days. Eleanor felt tears prick her eyes. All she wanted was to fit in and to have a life in London. But now that school had started she felt like more of an outsider than ever. Her optimism from the first week was starting to fade.

  By the time Jonathan got home about an hour later he found her sitting on the sofa, crying into one of the throw pillows.

  “Ellie! What’s the matter? Are you sick? Hurt?!” Jonathan asked, concern etched on his face. Taking her gently by the shoulders and looking into her eyes, which were red and filled with tears, “Elle, talk to me, what’s wrong?”

  Eleanor just sniffled in response, and pulled the sleeve of her sweatshirt down over her hand and used the hem to wipe her nose. Jonathan reached up and wiped her tears away and then sat down on the couch next to her, wrapping his arms around her. A fresh wave of sobs came out and Eleanor just held on to her cousin.

  After a time, she was able to calm herself down a bit and she finally was able to say, in a voice so quiet Jonathan had to strain to hear it, “I don’t think I can do this.”

  Pulling Eleanor closer and wrapping his arms more tightly around her, Jonathan gave a small but kind laugh, “Oh poppet, you can do this. You’re already doing it. You’ve moved yourself halfway around the world to pursue something you love and something you’re already good at. I’ve heard the stories about that program of yours so I can imagine what today must have felt like, but you can do it. I’ll bet you a tenner that a year from now you’ll look back on today and laugh at yourself right now.”

  “No I won’t,” Eleanor croaked out petulantly.

  “Is that a bet then?” Jonathan asked, smiling.

  “Jon, this isn’t funny. You don’t know what it’s like!”

  “Well, it can’t be harder than grad school at LSE! I wanted to run out and quit the program halfway through my first class I was so terrified! I assume you made it through the whole day before you fell apart?”

  “Barely,” she said quietly.

  “Well there you go, you survived day one. Only eleven months and 29 days to go. Look, it’s true, I don’t know what your program is like, but I know a couple people who’ve done it. They said it was the hardest thing they’ve done and the first day was one of the worst days. But they also said it was one of the best things that they’ve experienced. Ellie, the first day, hell, the first week or even month is the hardest! You’re just starting and you haven’t made any friends yet. But you can get through this, and you’ll be so happy and proud of yourself once you do.”

  “Actually, I think I did make a friend,” Eleanor said, brightening a little. “That helped for most of the day but then we have different schedules for the afternoon and we got split up in the shuffle and I didn’t get his number,” she told him, frowning again.

  Laughing, Jonathan replied, “It’s ok! You’ll see him tomorrow. And you’ll get his number then, if he doesn’t ask for it first. Was he cute?”

  Looking sideways at her cousin, “What? Er...yeah, I guess. He’s young, way too young for me if that’s why you’re asking. He’s got to be 23, tops.”

  “So? What do you have against younger men?”

  “Nothing, as friends. But if I can’t even get a 36-year-old to commit to me, how am I going to get someone only five years out of high school.” Eleanor thought for a moment and then added, “Plus, I think he might be gay. He seemed to know an awful lot about fashion.”

  “Well, don’t make any assumptions, we London men actually care about what we wear, unlike your Arizona men in their shorts and trainers.”

  Eleanor looked at Jonathan suspiciously, “He knew my shirt was from Zara even though it’s a few months old.”

  “Hmmm, ok, he might be gay, but I still say don’t assume too much until you get to know him better. I’m rubbish with fashion but I have a few very straight friends who care more about their wardrobes than some of my gay friends. So don’t rely on stereotypes missy.”

  Eleanor smiled.

  Jonathan smiled back and continued, “But I suppose you really shouldn’t be thinking of starting a new relationship right now anyway. You need to be single for a bit. But I’m glad you made a friend. And you should make some more. Come out with me tonight.”

  “What? Where?” Eleanor asked, feeling drained from her emotions, she tried to keep up with the sudden change in the conversation.

  “I’m meeting some friends at a pub near school. We all had deadlines today for end of summer projects to our advisors and wanted to celebrate and relax a bit.”

  “I don’t know, I have to be back at school early tomorrow and have a writing piece I’m supposed to start working on.”

  “You need to eat, don’t you? Look, I promise we won’t be out long, two hours tops, my mates and I have work of our own to do. But you need to get out of here. You look like you’ve been sitting here crying for hours.”

  “I’ve only been home for an hour!” she cried defensively.

  “Well, that’s long enough. Come on now. Go pull yourself together, I can’t be seen with you looking like that. You look a fright.”

  Punching his arm, “Thanks. Jerk.”

  “Ow!”

  “You deserved that. No wonder you’re still single.”

  Getting up from the couch, Jonathan ordered, “Seriously, go get your bag or whatever and let’s go eat.”

  Eleanor grabbed her handbag and cardigan and they left the flat. Jon led her to a pub near Holborn station. Once inside, Jon found his friends and made all the introductions and then left Eleanor at the table while he went to get their drinks and order their food.

  While she waited for him to come back she began chatting with Jon’s friends, who were all graduate students at LSE with Jon. There was Zaf, a French Algerian who’d done his undergrad in Paris and was now at LSE studying Economics. He had a warm smile that made Eleanor feel instantly at ease. Then there was the very serious looking Malcolm, from Scotland, studying International Health Policy. Henry, was in the middle of telling a story about a girl he had met on the Tube that morning, and based on the way he was gesturing and playing with the inflections in his voice and switching between his light Nigerian accent and the Welsh accent of the girl on the Tube, Eleanor was not surprised to learn later that Henry had started in drama school before switching to Data Science at LSE. Ioan (spelled I-o-a-n but pronounced Ian, Jonathan explained), was a kind and studious looking guy from Wales, studying Philosophy and Public Policy, and had kindly moved his coat to the ledge behind them to let Eleanor sit next to him. After a few minutes Jon came back to the table, holding a Guinness for himself and a cider for Eleanor. Beside Jon was a tall and very handsome young man.

  “Ellie, this is my mate Mark Butler, he studies International Relations. Mark, this is my cousin Eleanor, she just moved here from America to study creative writing,” Jon explained.

  Mark slid into the open space next to Ele
anor, “Hi Eleanor, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said pleasantly and offered his hand. Eleanor noted he had a nice handshake, firm and strong. His eyes sparkled a bit in the low lighting of the pub and Eleanor noticed they were a light green color. He also had a kind smile and Eleanor instantly liked him.

  “Hello, pleased to meet you as well Mark,” she responded politely, and somewhat shyly. Looking around the table at all of Jon’s friends she realized she couldn’t remember the last time she’d hung out socially with such a large group of men, or even a group of strangers. The past several months she’d only spent time with Michael, her mother, or her best girlfriends, but overall had had a relatively quiet social life. Now here she was sitting in the middle of a busy pub in central London, surrounded by a group of guys, roughly her age, who were all laughing and making jokes at each other’s expense. As much as they were joking, they clearly cared about each other.

  They spent the next hour talking about their work at LSE and Eleanor did her best to follow along. She and Jonathan had talked about school before so she understood some of it, but graduate programs were different in the UK compared to the US. Between her exhaustion and still feeling slightly out of place, she kept quiet and just listened as the jokes and stories flew back and forth around the table, trying to feel like part of the group instead of like an outsider like she’d felt passing by the pubs on her way back to the flat. She finished her first cider, enjoying it more than she thought she would, she thought it was much better than beer, which made her think about all the times Michael had teased her for never being able to take her out drinking. He’d always complained that it was a shame she didn’t have a taste for beer because cocktails were so much more expensive.

  She didn’t realize she had been frowning until Mark touched her gently on the arm and said to the table, “I think we’re boring our gorgeous new friend, gents.” Turning, to look in her eyes, he apologized, “I’m so sorry that we’ve been talking only about ourselves, so rude of us. You’ve come all the way from America and we’re just ignoring you.”