Magnolia In An Icestorm

Flights of Fancy

Geared up for my long flight from JFK to London, I dressed the next morning in comfortable dark jeans, kelly green high neck tank top and warm navy cardigan. As I shoved my toothbrush and last minute items into my carry on, I stumbled into my cognac ankle booties. I threw my hair into a messy bun and lightly decorated my face with foundation, mascara, a slight of blush and cherry colored chap stick. In my suitcases was what was left after purging my closet and donating to Goodwill, and my extensive library was boxed up meticulously for the shipping company to come by and pick up. I wouldn't see Manhattan again for a very long time if I had it my way. Still, this apartment had been home for a long time, and I heaved a sigh as I took one last reminiscent look at the blank khaki walls once adorned with all of my photos and memories from college and boarding school. In just a few hours time, across an ocean this little Southern Belle was going to be a London resident.

On the plane I sat next to Kendrick, the man who stole my heart and simultaneously broke it in two when I was fourteen years old. At Woodward Academy I immediately threw myself into their incredible fine arts program and junior year auditioned for Little Shop of Horrors. Kendrick was the Seymour to my Audrey from the beginning, and our instant chemistry at auditions put us as the leading roles that spring. He had been my cheerleader, my confidante, my biggest fan, and if he hadn't absolutely adored tiny blonde boys he would have been my soulmate. At the time we met he was a lanky and awkward boy, with gorgeous caramel skin, a head of brown frizzy curls and brown eyes filled with mischief. Now, he was buff but still golden skinned, those brown frizzy curls had smoothed into gorgeous darker waves, but his brown eyes and sharp chin still gave him his puckish appearance.

"My little Dorothy moving to Oz! Destined to become London's first American West End sensation!" Kendrick said, rubbing his hands quickly over my thighs and grasping my fingers tight. I laughed at his all too familiar dramatics and contagious optimism. I would miss him terribly when he went back home. We settled into our seats quietly as the plane took off. Suddenly he slid his arm around my shoulder and squeezed me close.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, concern puckering between his black brows and his eyes fixed firmly with mine. He was worried about me of course, we'd both learned about one another's dark past and decided we would take care of each other, because we were all we had and that was far more than anyone had ever done for us before.

"I've honestly never been more sure of anything in my life. This is going to be incredible. A dream come true." I told him firmly around a grin, never breaking eye contact and squeezing his hands right back.

A little jet lagged and several hours later, Kendrick and I parted ways as he took a double decker bus to the hotel with the rest of the cast and I grabbed a taxi to my new apartment at building 234, apartment J on Baker Street, mere minutes from West End. I was lucky to afford the place, but I received a pretty nice bonus from my new lecturing job and the apartment was supposedly haunted. The ghost was a murder victim from a few weeks ago and I decided to forgo the more gruesome details and sign the lease. The ghosts of my past and I got a long relatively well, so I figured what's one more to join the party?

As the cab rolled down the road, even the rainy, cloudy, London weather couldn't drown my good mood. I was starry eyed, enchanted that even in the rain everything glittered and the city was just as beautiful as it had looked in movies and paintings. I felt alive, excited and thrilled. This was my home. This city is where I would build my future, my life after college. I'd perform on stage, I'd eloquently speak on my favorite works and wrap everyone around my finger with my sweet southern charm. True, most of my accent had long since gone and could be heard vaguely in my vowels on occasion, but that breeding and all those mannerisms never left you. Neither did that southern sass, which was a little unfortunate at times when it gets me into those insert foot in mouth situations.

My new apartment was already furnished, the living room had bright Caribbean blue walls and a cozy red leather couch. There was a wall devoted entirely to cherry wood book cases and on the opposite wall was two large open windows for allowing in natural light on pretty sunny days. The kitchen and the rest of the apartment had light gray walls, and once in the bedroom I unpacked my vacuum sealed charcoal comforter set, making up the bed with my mint colored sheets and coral throw pillows. I opened the doors to my Juliette balcony and briefly took in the smell of the London rain, before closing the doors and investigating the bathroom. It had a large vanity and mirror lit with dressing room style lights, a large garden tub and shower. It was perfect.

I unpacked my costume so it could hang in my new closet and so all of the wrinkles could release themselves before the premiere. I used my teapot to make some hot water with lemon, and had just sat down to sip it and quietly check my e-mails when I broke out into a clammy sweat. Stomach cramping I lunged into my bathroom and started puking until there was nothing left. That was my luck, as soon as I arrive in a city I couldn't wait to explore, I end up with a stomach bug. Since I was usually out of commission for twenty-four hours, I took it upon myself to contact Director Slade to see if he could just rehearse Ken and Kat's scenes this evening, that I promised I'd be at my best the following opening night.

I spent the rest of my first day in London tossing cookies and trying to hold down saltines, while unbeknownst to me, the city's finest were priming my co stars for protection and monitoring them with wires in case of an attack from a violent serial killer.