The best day of my life must be the day I had to take my first interview.
When I was just a child I always wore on some glasses, tied my hair and imagined to do interviews to the VIPs that I saw on TV. My mom always laughed at me, but it was my dream. When I ended high school I decided to take a university that would have helped me in fulfilling my dream.
I'd often visited London, I've always wanted to live there.
When I got to the city for the first time I felt like it was home, like that was my real place in the world. You know that weird feeling of being not in right place, even though you are with the right and most beautiful people? That was my constant emotion while living in my hometown. I kept wondering if someone can be meant for somewhere else and not their own city.
The constant smell of rain, and the few, unreplaceable days blessed by a pale and shy sun that would warm the city up. I saw it and I felt like London was the place I was meant to live in.
As I graduated from university, I managed to get a job in a magazine's company in London, that collaborated with another firm. Together they were publishing also books: my biggest dream was coming true.
The day I got hired, was a warm August's day in my small hometown in Italy, and I had lost any hope particularly after the loss I had.
You got again your expectations too high. I told myself. You are hopeless. I thought I hadn't got hired because they had to send me an e-mail weeks before. I still remember that the day I opened the mail box for the hundredth time, I was just thinking about nothing in particular. Opening the e-mail everyday, at almlst every hour, had became my hobby. As I opened my already working computers, I refreshed the e-mail page. I remember the first days I was glaring at that little circle moving, signaling it was charging, now I was just absent-mindedly looking at it. The page got charged and a new e-mail was waiting for me. I screamed and my aunt came running probably thinking something bad had happened, but then as she looked at the monitor, she couldn'thelp but be just as happy as I was. Thinking about it now, I can still picture in my head her hazel eyes, I can still see the sadness reflected on them, the reason was probably because she knew that I wouldn't be there with her and my uncle. Was I being selfish?
That day I packed my things and the day after I was on a flight for London. I loved Italy, I really did and still do, it is full of history and art, and everything you could possibly think of, but I felt like London was waiting for me. I could have travelled back anytime I wanted to.
My uncle and aunt drove me at the airport and I brought along also my ukulele along with me.
As I got to the check-in, my uncle and aunt kissed and hugged repeatedly and with more love than ever.
I was almost changing my mind and thinking about staying.
I was at the gate and I gave the ID to the miss and I looked at it. Jane Wolstone, dark eyes, blonde. I have a very vague memory about my mother telling me the story of my name. I remembered my father as well. He was from England, that's why my surname is not italian. Mom has always told me that after my dad's continuous begging, she gave up and aggreed with dad to give me also an english name. I still recall her smile and the sound of her laugh. I looked at my picture and looked away rapidly, I hated that photo, I looked like a potato. Nothing like my mother anyway.
Twenty minutes later I was on the plane. It was at the moment in which the pilot told to hook the bells, that I realized how big the thing I was doing was. There was no way back, no more.
I hooked the safety bell and wore my headphones. Many years ago, I made a playlist which I've always kept updated. It is made of different singers, the thing that linked them all was the fact that all of them played indie rock music.
I've always listened to that playlist whenever I felt like something big was about to happen, or in those moments when you just want to reflect if what you are now doing is the best choice.
There's no way back. It's my turn to fulfill my dream. I thought.
I went to London immediately cause I had to find an apartment and also cause my job would have started the week after. I had seen a house on the internet that looked very nice. I thought about it during all the voyage, along with so many other thoughts that just kept bugging me giving me an headache.
I was also thinking that as soon as I arrived I should contact my aunt. No friends apparently. It's not like I was some kind of social outcast, it was just that all the friendships I had, felt very volatile and eventually disintegrated without even me noticing. People kept getting away form me probably.
I had landed at London City Airport, so I took a taxi that brought me to the hotel I was going to be for no longer than two days. I really wanted to get a house soon.
I left everything at the hotel, and went to the apartment where a miss from the agency I contacted when I was home, was waiting for me. I didn't even managed to appreciate the city a little, so I promised myself I would have found the time sooner or later.
- Hi - I said shyly.
- Good morning miss. Can you please follow me? I'll let you see the apartment you asked for - she was an elegant woman. She was wearing a black tailleur with thin white vertical lines. She was slim and around fourty years old.
- Sure! - I was so excited.
She let me in the palace made of dark bricks.
There was no elevator, so we climbed the stairs until the third floor. The hallway was cold and the handrail was made of a black metal. When we arrived in front of the white door, that was in contrast with the rest of the place, my heart was beating fast.
She opened the door and when I entered, I felt like that could became my new home.
The walls were made of bricks, the living room wasn't too big. There was a brown couch in the middle of the room, in front of it, just a forniture with a small squared library. Ahead there was a table with two chairs, next to a window seat that occupied half of the wall. The pavements were all white wooded covered by carpets.
The kitchen was in a small gangway in which there were other two rooms.
The kitchen was made of a dark brown fornitures and a little kitchen island. Above it five or six tiny led lights bulbs falling would be perfect, I thought.
The bathroom was made of blue tiles.
When she opened the bedroom's door I could see that it was just made of a bed and a wardrobe. Two of the four walls were white, the others made of bricks like the rest of the house. It also had a window seat. I already could picture how I would transform them.
I went back to the living room, and approached the window. I could see the top of the Big Bang tower and also a tiny part of the London Eye. A small garden was on the right of my palace, and everything looked like a dream to my eyes.
- We have a deal - I said to the miss.
The apartment was a furnished one, so the day after I already managed to transfer there. I decided that I had to buy some stuff, that meant some paintings, in this way I could draw and furnish more the house. I also had to buy some walls paint and decided that a light grey would be ideal.
I wore a black high-waist skinny jeans and a white T- shirt. I picked a little umbrella and went out with my crossbody bag made of dark leather.
When I closed the building's front door, the smell of rain was evident, but still, I loved it.
I recalled that I had to pass by my workplace. In the e-mail they wrote that I had to visit the place asap.
I took my phone and opened Google maps. When I arrived I went to the head of my department.
She was a women with style. She wore a tailleur with some squares. Her hair were long and black and no, she wasn't wearing glasses on top of her nose. She looked like a 40 years old lady, her name was Shay Wallcraft, that's what was on her license plate. She welcomed me with a warm smile and give me the weekly timetable, telling me that I had two weeks to take an interview. It was obviously a test.
She picked up the phone and told to a certain Brownie to come to her office.
Five seconds after, someone was knocking at the door, and a curious girl came in. She had light brown hair and eyes of the same color, thought the end of the hair were blue. She had a curvy type of body and a light red was on her lips. She looked like a sweet and good person.
- Miss Brownie, please, would you do a tour of our office to our new colleague and let her see her new desk, in front of yours? -
- Sure ma'am - miss Wallcraft looked at her with a scolding look - sorry... ehm colleague? Follow me please -
I left the room and Miss Brownie came next to me - by the way you can call me Sally. And let me guess: your name is... Alexandra? Lexi? -
- Jane - I smiled as I followed her. She let me see the small office and then our desks.
- So that one will be yours. You can put whatever you want on there - she came closed and whispered - oh but please no weird stuff. Herb was sat there for years and brought each time a new weird and creepy puppet. I get goosebumps each time i think about it - she shivered at the thought and I silentily laughed. - So I'll be here whenever you will need me. This is my number - She gave me a post-it with a number already written.
- Thanks. Then I guess I'll go. I still have a lot of things to do. Thanks for everything - she smiled at me and I left the office.
Walking in the streets I found a little shop made in wood, the windows were big and i was able see on the inside. I entered and a small bell rang. There was an old man using a charcoal on an old yellow paper that was bending over itself, in order to return to its natural shape. The movements were fast and decided. I almost felt guilty for interrupting him.
- Hi Sir. Can you help me? - he nodded - I'd like some canvases middle sized, where I can draw with watercolor, and also a paint for walls in light grey. Oh, also a roller -
The old man smiled at me and without saying a word, he disappeared in a room that was behind him. After a few minutes he came back with everything that I had asked. I paid and thanked him. Before leaving everything home, I also bought the lights that would have been falling from the ceiling of my kitchen.
After getting everything at home I went out again and took a different route.
****
A week passed, and honestly nothing great had happened. I talked with my uncle and aunt. I still had to take my interview, but I got to know Sally better. She was great.
I got into a pub where apparently they played also live music. Very cliché to say I must admit, but music was the burst of energy that have managed to keep me alive all this time, so I decided that I had to talk about it in my first article.
A band was already on the stage and was taking the applause of the audience sitting at the small tables in front of them.
The singer was a boy, probably around my age, he had curly brown hair but I couldn't see what color his eyes were. He had a black T-shirt in a high-waist and large trousers, also black. Surely a particular way of dressing, although, it felt like he could wear everything without looking like an idiot.
He was slim but with the right amount of muscles. He had soft, full red lips that started moving to sing along the music the band was playing. His voice at the beginning was soft, it almost felt like broken because of the story he was telling. In the chorus his voice hit a note so high, that I got goosebumps.
I was in the back of the pub, as well as other people since the few seats were all occupied.
I was standing with a glass of beer in my hands. My heart started pounding as the singer kept doing his performance, could a show make you go through such emotions? Well, for me it was a big YES.
He was singing all the notes with so much passion, that it moved me. If I didn't know the songs, I would have thought he wrote them himself since he looked so much engaged with the lyrics. His eyes flicked when he sang and sometimes they got smaller and he got an expression of pain on his face. The moment later he would start gambling while his arms were along his sides and his hands opened.
In that moment I decided that he was going to be the protagonist of my interview. At the end of the song, everyone clapped their hands and someone also shouted words of approval. I was the only one just looking without moving an inch. The moment in which that guy meet my gaze, his eyes were light green. He looked at me and smiled, by doing so two dimples appeared at the sides of his lips. I suddenly felt like an idiot, and the boy looked away, at the members of his band.
- We are going to take a break, and then come right back to you with some covers. -
They went down the stage and he started walking in my direction. Wait. Why was he walking in my direction? Oh my God, what should I say? He smiled at me and took a seat at the bar. Stupid Jane, he was obviously aiming for the bar clobe by where you got stuck since he started singing. I took a long sip of beer and seated next to him.
- Hi, - I said oddly - sorry for staring - let's just say that I wasn't great at socialising.
He looked at me a little surprised - well I was on stage, I guess it was pretty normal - I looked at him with an interrogatory expression, like it obviously was not normal - ok, perhaps it was as bit strange since you stared without even clapping - I started laughing as he smiled - why weren't you even clapping, anyway? - he asked a bit offended, closing up his eyebrows.
- I don't know? Just felt like not doing so. I was still shocked for the song - he laughed and looked so handsome.
- Thanks, I guess - he answered still laughing and letting me see his dimples again.
- You guessed right - I took another sip of beer - I want to interview you -
He almost strangled with the water he was gulping. - Sorry, what? -
- I have to take my first interview, and I think that it would be amazing if you were my first - I said resolute looking straight into his eyes that now looked a bit more blue. Now that he was staring, his gaze was so intense, that I hardly kept my eyes up - But I can't pay you -
- You got to be kidding me - I continued staring at him while drinking my beer - I mean, it's not a problem if you can't pay me. - he tapped his fingertips on his lips - ok... let's make a deal. Now you go on the stage and sing something for me. It can be anything. If you want I'll borrow you my band -
I looked at him like he just told me I had to sing in front of everyone and not just in my bathroom. Wait. - What are you talking about? That's not gonna happen -
- Prove to me that you really want an interview with me - he smirked and I found it really sexy. What the hell am I thinking. I slapped myself mentally. He got up and looked at me with the same grin, then went on the stage and talked at the microphone - Guys! Please clap your hands for... my friend right there - he pointed at me - that is ashamed of getting uphere to sing -
Does he wants to challenge me? Well, he doesn't know me. - Come on! Come here! - everyone looked at me and I just wanted to vanish in that precise moment.
No, I couldn't, he was going to be my first interview, I had to do this. I got up and started walking towards the stage at the moment he got down. Then I passed next to him - Friend mh? -
He smirked again and I got on stage. Everyone was looking and I was paralyzed, so I decided to help myself by taking something that would have helped me: an acoustic guitar. I only briefly knew how to play it, I just knew perfectly one song on that instrumrnt. I took a seat and lean it next to the singer's microphone. I looked down and saw the guy I didn't even knew the name looking at me surprised. I wiped my sweaty hands on my black jeans and started playing the guitar as I started singing "Between the bars" by Elliott Smith. Everyone was silently listening, then after the first minute they started talking with each other. I looked at the boy down the stage that was still silently listening, I smiled a little feeling my cheeks turning red, and he smiled back.
My red cheeks where the result of staying on a stage, singing, that was not exactly the best thing in the world, particularly if you are a shy person like me, sometimes afraid to feel judged by others.
When the song was over the audience clapped at me, but the smirky guy was not. I laughed a bit looking at him trying to copy me when our places were inverted. I rapidly placed the guitar back at its spot and went down the stage trying to steady my breathing.
- You surprised me, friend -
- Don't you dare making joke of me. - I grinned - I'm never going to get on that stage EVER again - I placed a hand on my chest, my heart was pounding so fast.
He laughed while I kept breathing deeply in order to take back my normal self. - but you were really good! I mean it! -
I ignored his sentence - so are you going to do the interview? - he stared like he was still thinking about it. I couldn't take this anymore. The pressure of staying in front of so many people made me nervous and my heart race. - Doesn't matter. If you want I'll meet you tomorrow morning at nine o'clock at the Starbucks in front of this pub ok? -
- Are you ok? You look pale -
He didn't respond me, and I had the need to get in a peaceful place. I saw the band getting on the stage again so I took the chance - whatever -
The guitarist called for him - he called the guy "Harry" - and I run in the bathroom. I closed the door and sat down, taking deep breaths. Fine. Jane you're ok.
A soft and nostalgic song started playing on the stage.
'Hold. Hold on.' A soft and deep melody reached me and my heart got his regolar beat back. 'Hold on to me/cause i'm a little unsteady/ A little unsteady.' Then the same words again.
I run out of the bathroom in order to see him sing. 'Mama, come here/Approach, appear/Daddy, I'm alone/'Cause this house don't feel like home. If you love me, don't let go/If you love me, don't let go.'
His voice was so heartbreaking that I was genuinely going to cry. His closed eyes reflected the suffering he seemed to be hiding for a very long time. His hands were now tangled around the microphone that was on the mic stand.
I silently went to the back of the pub, where the exit was, and listened to the song until the end. Then when everyone clapped I went out just when Harry looked at me.