Carolina and The Fan Non-fiction | H.S

Twenty-Six

The interview stalled in my head when I showered. Then I ended up stalling in the shower for longer than usual. In spite of that, the amount of time inside the tiny private space was never enough to think through. Ever since three days ago, something new would make its way to my thoughts and all my efforts to organize what's already in my head are put to waste. Today, it was served to my mind pretty early in the morning. By the end of my dramatics, which was staring into space while letting water trickle down my body, I gave up on organizing.

So, once again, I resorted to my temporary solution for these kinds of situations: pretend like nothing's bothering me and try to forget. I asked for Jas to treat today like our Camden trip. We just have to act like I didn't know Harry beyond what I know as a fan. Like I'm not part of the narratives of Harry's album and that Twitter isn't going wild over figuring out who the hell I was to be among the inspiration of his songs (to be among Kendall Jenner and Taylor Swift, they said).

Because of my extended bathing, we were five minutes late to the car rental. We're lucky the guy over there was understanding, otherwise we wouldn't be in a blue Ford Fiesta with discounted fee on our way downtown.

Months leading up to her trip to Belfast, Jas had expressed plans to have a touristy day driving around the most famous locations in the London. I don't blame her. I had pretty much done the same ever since my acceptance letter from Birkbeck dropped at our house.

She wanted to see the most iconic locations in London unaided by editing, filters, and camera lenses. And she couldn't find a better time to do that. The sun's peeking longer, giving a little warmth so the weather feels mild and relaxing. It also offers a soft daylight and sunset as background. The grasses and trees are greener since it is springtime. In short, today, she is going to catch the city in its best with her bare eyes.

Bloomsbury disappeared before us as we drove into the picturesque central of the Square Mile. Endless stream of Neoclassical and Victorian architecture adorns our view from the window. They all seem to stretch to the faint brightness of the sky from where the sun bleaches the sidewalks. And the sidewalks pride their clean grey, distinct even under the river of people walking. It always feels like the first time.

In the corner of my eye, I see Jas, who is here for the first time, and the fascination bubbling over her attempt at a spotless composure. "How are you allowed to drive over here? You got a new license?"

"No, foreign driving licenses are valid here for a year."

"You're not confused by the roads?" she asked.

I shake my head, "Not anymore. Bry lent her car to me once and I just learned. I'll tell you though, I'm thankful for two-lane expressways here. I always try to keep right, like right now, and it feels satisfying."

Bryon heard my dilemma and gave me her car for a day so that I could go down to Westminster and find that out-of-stock book. I couldn't believe I couldn't find it in Waterstones. In Waterstones! So, I drove and what was initially just for a one-book purchase at Barnes and Noble became a one-person tour around West End.

"So where are we heading, chauffeur?"

"West End," I said, entering Brewer Street where I figured we'd park. "Then we'll work our way from there to your Big Ben and London Eye."

○ ○ ○

"Take one more Viv," said Jas.

I crouch into a position that screams I am doing my best to get a good angle of you even if I'm not that good of a photographer. Anyway, I do it to get the Tower Bridge behind her. Then I press the shutter button a couple times more than she said.