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[truly-aninspiration-blog]

Roger & Anita

[truly-aninspiration-blog]

About The Endings

Featuring some of today’s most beloved actors, these piercing photographic vignettes capture female characters in the throes of powerful emotional transformations. Photographer Caitlin Cronenberg and art director Jessica Ennis collected stories of heartbreak, relationship endings, and new beginnings-fictional but often inspired by real life-and set out to convey the raw emotions that are exposed in those most vulnerable of states. Collaborating with celebrated talents such as Julianne Moore, Keira Knightley, and Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Cronenberg and Ennis developed each character, built her world, and then photographed as she lived the role before the camera. The resulting collection is a bold look at the experience of losing or leaving love and will speak to anyone who appreciates art, photography, and the strength of facing emotional depths head-on.

Featuring

Alison Pill - Amanada Brugel - Bel Powley - Carmen Ejogo - Charlotte Sullivan - Christine Horne - Danielle Brooks - Eleanor Tomlinson - Emily Hampshire - Gemma Jones - Gugu Mbatha-Raw - Imogen Poots - Jennifer Jason Leigh - Julianne Moore - Juno Temple - Keira Knightley - Malin Akerman - Mena Suvari - Nina Dobrev - Noomi Rapace - Ophelia Lovibond - Patricia Clarkson - Paz De La Huerta - Sarah Gadon - Sofia Boutella - Sook-Yin Lee - Tatiana Maslany - Tessa Thompson        

On sale 09/04/18 Available for pre-order now: www.thisistheendings.com/pre-order

[truly-aninspiration-blog]

Eleanor Tomlinson

[truly-aninspiration-blog]

11:15 To Edinburgh || Dearcliffe

@dalmatianplantationsensation

Summary: Anita sees Roger off to his next great adventure. 

ANITA:

Today, Roger had a train to catch.

He was headed off, you see-- up north, to the rolling hills of Scotland, to the old stony walls of Edinburgh. There was a little flat with his deposit on it, close to a little tea and book shoppe. There were a few boxes shipped up there waiting for him. He’d have a new roommate, someone with a very Scottish name who was also doing some sort of graduate program at the University of Edinburgh. And classes would start very, very soon.

Roger was off, onto a brand new adventure. And Anita was not going with him.

She had woken up beside him early in the morning with this singular thought running through her brain. She felt like she hadn’t slept, though, not all night. She just kept waking up and twisting in the covers, to check to see if Roger was still there. And every time she spotted him, her heart had caught-- and she’d sighed in relief, knowing she had just a few more hours with him.

A few hours turned to two hours, then one hour, and then very little at all. When the alarm went off, Anita pretended to wake up fresh and kissed his scratchy cheek. “Do you think we have a little time for tea?” she’d asked him.

“There’s always time for tea,” he responded, and Anita fell in love with him all over again. But she would still not be going with him.

The morning bustled. Anita followed on Roger’s heel, going down a list of things that he must have for his trip (You packed socks? Do you have your wallet? Your IDs? Your library cards? A book to read? A pen? You must never go anywhere without a pen, darling.) They lined up Roger’s suitcases and she went all over it again, just to be safe.

“You sure you have everything?” she pressed, but of course, Roger did.

(But not Anita-- she would not be going with him.)

So for the last time, they scampered out of Anita’s humble flat. The luggage wheels ricketed down the hallway and then bounced along the cobblestone streets. They turned onto Main Street and began to walk down. It was a rather boring, misty morning outside, rather typical of Swynlake, but Anita didn’t think she’d want it any other way. Best remember Swynlake the way it usually was.

Though that was impossible when you were someone like Anita. As they passed by all the usual shoppes, she looked at them all as though she were seeing them for the first time.

It felt like that, didn’t it? Even if she’d return down this street in a half-hour and remain her another week or two before it was her time to proper move. Even then-- after Roger left, well, it felt as though Swynlake simply wouldn’t be the same.

He had been there since the beginning, after all.

“Oh, we should stop in Hatter’s,” she announced as she saw it approaching. She blinked rapidly and looked at him. “Shouldn’t we? I know we already had tea but-- perhaps a scone or something? You can’t leave Swynlake without one more trip to Hatter’s, Rog,” she said and smiled like it was simply a tease. But she meant it quite seriously. Or maybe she was just trying to stall.

ROGER

He had not been able to sleep a wink.

This feelin’ of pickin’ up everything he knew wasn’t unfamiliar. He could recall that same flutter in his stomach, equal parts excitement and equal parts like he was leavin’ everything he’d ever known behind.

So he’d stared at the ceiling most of the night and tried to imagine what was gonna happen next -- would he like his new roommate, for instance? What would it be like goin’ back to school after so long? Would he be the oldest, stickin’ out among the crowd of uni kids?

What would happen with Anita?

That was the question that kept creepin’ back into his mind. He pushed it away, because he knew he shouldn’t be questioning that. If this was gonna work, he had to believe in it. In the two of them. Believe that they could do it.

Even so, in some early hour of the morning, he’d glanced over at Anita as she slept besides him, a triangle of blue light spilling across her face and he wanted to take that blue on her face and keep it with him always. He heard the melody of a song that did not exist and he pulled her close and held her tight.

<>

“I suppose we can pop in for a scone,” said Roger, even though the train was coming quite soon and he knew that they should be at the station, probably, or at least on the way over. But they had been making good time, after all, and the town was small and even though he had said quiet goodbyes as he walked through all the streets and passed all the buildings he’d grown to love, they were still on track.

He squeezed Anita’s hand, leaning to steal a kiss from her -- he was stealing loads of kisses from her this morning, tuckin’ them away so he’d have something to hold onto.

“‘Slong as we take it to go, I think we’ll be on time -- it’d be a shame not to stop by Hatter’s.”

ANITA:

“Exactly my thinking,” she said and then, grasping his hand, ducked into the tea shoppe.

It was, as expected, exactly the same. In the early morning hours there were only a few people sat at the tables, and a few who’d queued up for their morning coffees and teas before going to work. This was just slightly before Anita herself would have arrived before work-- when she had work. She’d gotten a little Swynlake-specific routine down and things operated by that routine or Anita could focus all day. All of her best days, then, began right here: in the tea shoppe.

Since she lost her job, that routine had been in a flux and so too had Anita’s mood. She saw right away how silly she’d been to skip her morning jaunts to tea. Just entering Hatter’s and smelling the fresh coffee on the pot made her feel better.

It also made her feel sad. She squeezed at Roger’s hand and tried to ignore that feeling, but it bloomed as they stood in the queue. For it was here, wasn’t it, where they’d finally gotten their proper beginning? Anita glanced toward the table now-- no one was sitting at it yet. She could see the ghosts of the two of them though.

“You want to get dinner?” Roger had asked her “Like, dinner-dinner? As in, I’ll pay and it’ll be date.”

All those years of waiting, of back and forth and misunderstandings and dreadful timings, and it had come down to just one question in this tea shoppe.

“Do you remember?” Anita said then suddenly. She couldn’t ignore the nostalgia even if she wanted to. “You asked me out here. What was it-- for a-- very early dinner or a very late lunch?” Anita smiled up at Roger. “That happened right here, Rog.”

“Oi, what can I get for you?” asked the barista at that moment, for baristas, you know, have no concern for things like nostalgia and moments. They have a queue to get through and coffee to brew.

Anita jerked her head back and her face reddened a bit, but she stepped forward. “Oh yes, yes, um-- a black tea with lemon, please, and-- the strawberry white chocolate scone, I think, and-- anything else, Roger?” she said and looked back at him.

ROGER:

It had happened here -- not just the first ever date that they had been on. Hatter’s had been the first place that he and Anita had stepped into when they crossed paths, right after the two of them had happened to plop right into Swynlake.

This town had brought them together. In more ways than one.

Now they were leaving it. Hatter’s. The Plantation. The lake. The park. Town Hall. All of it.

There’d be old castles and foggy highlands and university halls for Roger. A bright beach and bustling boardwalk and fancy theatre for Anita. It would be different. They’d make do. They’d tell each other all about their old castles and bright beaches and foggy highlands and bustling boardwalks. They’d complain about their uni halls and theatre rows (but also they’d love them).

It would work. This was the best option.

(He wished she could -- that she would -- come with him).

“I’ll take an Earl Grey, lots of cream, just a smidge of sugar. And… a Bakewell tart for me.” He reached into his pocket, handing the money over to the barista before Anita could fetch her pocket book.

“Gotta keep the tradition, yeah?” said Roger, with a wink. “‘I’ll pay and it’ll be a date”.”

He leaned to kiss her on the forehead yet again, as if all these stolen kisses he were collecting would somehow fill the shape of her once his train left the platform. ‘Course it wouldn’t -- nothing could. But still, the thought of it was romantic enough and he slipped an arm around her waist as they waited.

The lad behind the counter handed them the little brown baggies and the cups. Their last Hatter’s order. Roger would forever remember black tea with lemon with a strawberry and white chocolate scone and Earl Grey, loads of cream, light sugar with a Bakewell tart.

“Well,” he said, looking at Anita. “Shall we?”

ANITA:

Anita briefly wished they had enough time to sit down in that little corner, that little corner that would forevermore be theirs-- even after the two of them were gone. It’d be nice to sip tea and chew at their treats and pretend that today was any other day. She’d miss the sameness of it all, Anita realized. She loved her routines. She loved that Swynlake had become as cozy as a sweater to her. It was going to be much harder to leave than she thought. It would be even harder to not think about Swynlake-- and all that had happened here-- when she was in her new home.

Anita looked away from the little seat though and smiled softly at Roger. It was best, she supposed, not to linger on such nostalgic things. She’d miss these very last moments if she did.

And so she slipped her hand into his again and squeezed it very tight. “We shall, Mr. Radcliffe,” she said, with a brief nose wrinkle in his direction.

And they did.

The two of them walked out of Hatter’s and back onto Main Street. The morning mist had yet to lift, but the tea in Anita’s other hand warmed her from her fingertips to her toes. They walked down, down, passing the police and fire station, passing Town Hall (where Anita used to go every single day-- so funny, how quickly those routines that Anita loved changed), passing Whosits and Whatsits too, and then passing Pixie’s.

They walked and they walked, the suitcases dragged behind them catching now and again on the stone. But they just pulled it on.

It was a brisk walk, and a quiet one, and many times Anita wanted to say something, but she didn’t quite know what she wanted to say. Maybe it was simply-- goodbye, as she passed.

Goodbye to Main Street! Goodbye to the Swynlake oak trees! Goodbye to Castle Road and goodbye to the calm waters of Atlantis Lake!

They arrived at the train station, the platform even quieter than the rest of the town-- and no one there but Roger and Anita.

Anita bit at her lip and looked at the old clockface ticking away.

“Just a few minutes now. Hopefully it won’t be late,” she commented. I hope it will be late, she thought to herself.  Because-- for all of Anita’s goodbyes-- Anita still had no idea how she was going to say goodbye to Roger.

ROGER

He remembered the first time he’d set foot on this train platform, his first step into Swynlake, actually. It’d been scary, ‘course it had, but he felt that thrill of anticipation. Hell -- he’d written a whole song about it on the train ride over, wonderin’ about what all it really meant, if he was just searchin’ for something he was never gonna get.

But he’d found Anita here. He’d found Perdita and Paul and they’d all found each other.

And he found what he wanted to do next. His next step. A clearer step than he’d had in ages.

He just wished it didn’t mean leaving Anita.

The train was supposed to come in just a few minutes or so. He wanted those few minutes to feel like the ten minutes on Friday afternoon back in school before a three-day holiday, the few minutes waitin’ for Mum and Dad to unwrap Christmas gifts.

He slipped his hand from Anita’s and instead, wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close so that his cheek rested on her hair.

He wanted to say something -- anything. Something about how he didn’t want to leave this platform right now. Something about how he would see her again, so soon. Something about how he would write her the minute he was on the train, send the letter the minute he got off.

But all he could say was, “I love you so much.”

It came out a little soft, a little choked, and there was a lovely moment after he said it, a warm, blooming thing he wanted to keep forever, before it was punctuated by the whistle of the train.

ANITA:

They hugged. Roger pulled her close and Anita’s arms slipped around him, her hands locking against his spine.  She held him tightly, but it didn’t feel tight enough. There was still so much space between them even as close as they were. And if there was all this space even now, how could Anita bear to be hundreds and hundreds of miles away?

She knew that she must bear it. She knew that this was what was best for both of them.

But in Roger’s arms, she didn’t know anything, not really. All she had was her heart. And in Roger’s arms, her heart was home.

The train whistle screeched behind her. Anita clung even tighter as her heart rate sped up. And then she thought of her father--

Be brave now, Anita, he would tell her. That’s what he said on the day she took the train to Cambridge. He’d traveled with her to the train station but couldn’t come get her settled, for he had work. He knew that she was terrified though. One look at her big eyes and pink cheeks told him that.

She had to be brave again. Pulling away, she sniffled a bit, the tears bright in her eyes. She didn’t even bother to stop them from falling, for one was already spilling down her cheek. She laughed at how silly she was though and tried to wipe the tears away.

“I love you too, Rog. Oh, look at me, I’m a mess and you’re still here,” she said and wiped at the other eye. She blinked even faster, and then grasped at the front of his shirt. “You best get on that train right now, before I can’t even form a sentence, eh? I love you,” she said it again. You could never say something important like that enough, not at a train station or an airport or all the other places where people say goodbye.

She popped up onto her toes and kissed him, a hand on his scratchy cheek. It didn’t last long enough.

She fell back onto her heels. “Okay-- go, go! You’ll be brilliant!”

ROGER

Anita was crying. Roger felt that he might cry too -- hell, he was crying. Tearing up. Doing his best to blink it all away and be strong, be brilliant as she said.

He looked at her now and it felt so hard to be strong, to be brilliant, when all he wanted to do was be with Anita.

But he couldn’t stay. Roger couldn’t go to Brighton. There was nothing for him in Brighton, nothing new, at least. Sure he could play pubs and he could work in a shop somewhere to tithe him over between paychecks, but it wasn’t gonna be a step in the future like the one he was gonna be makin’.

It was gonna be okay. They would be okay.

He squeezed Anita’s hand one last time, ducking his head a little because he didn’t want her to see him cry.

“Goodbye Anita,” he said and he wanted to hold onto her hand forever, but the train gave another whistle and he had to carry up his bags, so he let go of her hand and turned around, picking up his bags. Before he stepped up onto the train, he glanced over his shoulder, smiling back at her, looking back.

“I love you!” he called out. Roger could feel his heart hammering. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. His chest felt tight. He just had to do it, just had to get on the train.

So Roger took a deep breath and stepped onto the train, trying to focus his nervous, sadness on finding an empty seat.

ANITA:

Roger turned away from her.

Wait! caught in her throat.

He picked up her bags.

Wait! There the word was again.

She watched as he bustled on, the mist lifting around them and the train whistle screeching through the air, the loudest thing in the morning. She watched because that was what she was here to do. Anita had come to see him off-- to stand here at the platform and be the last thing that Roger saw as the train pulled out and took him to all that strange and unfamiliar.

She would wave to him and he would wave to her from the window. They’d wave until the train took the bend. And even then, Anita promised Roger she’d still be waving. She’d not leave until the train was gone. Completely gone. The ticking of its wheels on the tracks faded, and the air still again.

She promised these things. She tried to hold onto her promise as Roger boarded the train.

Maybe she could have done it too. Maybe. If Roger hadn’t turned back to look at her and shouted “I love you!” even louder than the whistle.

Her heart leapt from where she was standing then. And she thought again. Wait!

Wait, but for what?

For me!

The train doors closed, and Anita panicked. She leapt into motion too, chasing after her heart which had gotten caught on the wrong side of the door. No-- she was on the wrong side of the door, and so she darted to the train and pounded on it.

“Don’t leave! Stop, don’t leave!” she shouted. A face squinted through the slim windows on the door. “I have a ticket!” she shouted, she lied.

The doors opened.

“Ticket ma’am?” said the inspector.

Anita pushed past him, ignoring his exclaim. She rushed down the train compartment and shouted Roger’s name.

“Roger! Roger, wait! I’m here!”

“Ma’am, your ticket!” snapped the inspector, hot on her trail.

“I’m coming to Edinburgh!”

“Someone stop this woman!” the inspector reached out and caught Anita by the arm.

She whirled on him and tried to yank her arm away. The man had a firm grip and beady, hateful eyes, if you asked Anita. Her own brightened with her anger. “Let go of me, you cad. I’ll pay for a bloody ticket, I’m trying to-- this is a very romantic-- gesture--and you’re ruining it--” she huffed, then smashed her foot down on the man’s foot.

He yelped and let her go, and then Anita was off again, racing down the compartment until she collided into Roger’s arms. Anita brushed at some of her hair, askew from her dramatic flight here, smoothing it back, and then smiling.

“Roger, damn Brighton. I’m coming with you,” she repeated.

ROGER

It all happened very fast.

One moment, Roger had been stealing glances out of the window, keeping his eye on Anita’s figure. Then he’d spotted an empty place for his luggage and had reached to lift up one of his bags, only when he glanced out the window this time, Anita wasn’t there --

His heart clenched. He feared the worst. He turned around, ready to dash out, ready to find Anita, ready to --

There was commotion towards the front of the train. Roger’s heart caught in his throat, for it was a voice he knew, calling his name, for it was a familiar flash of red hair.

“Anita!” he called out, rushing through the aisles of the train, bags be damned. He muttered apologies as he maneuvered past people, wishing that the path to Anita was not so cluttered.

But damn the narrow aisles, damn the bags strewn on the floor, damn the old women gawking at him and the young kids giggling -- he’d faced worse to get to her, he had. This was nothing. This was absolutely nothing.

She was right there, and Roger called her name as she collided right into his arms and she spoke.

Roger, damn Brighton. I’m coming with you.

He didn’t process it at first, still giddy with the fact that she was in his arms, that he didn’t have to say goodbye just yet. Then he heard it. I’m coming with you.

“Anita -- you -- I -- “

Roger cupped her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth, pulling away a little breathless. Anita in Edinburgh with him. The two of them, in Edinburgh, together. The two of them. Together.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He was breathless, head spinning, looking at her like she was the most real thing in this whole world “I want you to come with me. You just said you would, I don’t know why I’m repeating that, Anita. I sound like a fool. I just want you with me, always.”

ANITA:

Roger kissed here, there in the middle of the train compartment. And you know, Anita would compare it to her favourite books and movies, but oh, why ruin it? The truth was it was so much better.

He kissed her and she kissed him back, her hands clutching tightly onto his shirt. This time, she swore to herself, she wouldn’t let go.

Because she saw it all clearly now. The Brighton mist had lifted for Anita and through it shined a different sun. There, the hills of Edinburgh and the grand castle looking over their new life together. They’d find themselves a brand new tea shoppe to go to every morning and to meet at between Roger’s classes. There were theatres up in Edinburgh and Anita would get a job there, because she was not the same sweet, shy Anita who relied on her family for her favours. She had outgrown that. She had grown into something else, and that something else fit perfectly in Roger’s arms.

And so she’d be fine. And so would Roger. Because they’d build a life together and this time and  talk it all the way through.

Yes, yes, yes, she wanted to say and laugh, like she was accepting a marriage proposal. Yes, I am so certain.

And Anita did laugh, but mostly because people around them had begun to clap. Some old man two seats away put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Anita covered her lips, giggling behind them. She looked up at Roger with all that delight and saw his own reflected. They had always been mirrors for one another.

Then her hands slipped back down and clutched his shirt again. “And so do I. Oh Rog, I’ve wanted you to ask me since you got that letter. But how silly of me to wait. We must stop waiting for each other and get on with it, eh?” she teased. “So yes, I’m sure. Let’s us go be brilliant together.”

“Kiss her again!” hooted the old man, which made Anita laugh.

“Are you going to buy a ticket or not?” huffed the inspector. He tapped his pocket watch. “It’s all very romantic, I see, but we have a schedule to keep.”

And so Anita blushed and reached back into her purse. “Yes, um, of course. I’m terribly sorry.”

“Oh no you’re not,” said the sullen inspector.

And he was right. Anita was very much not sorry at all.  

[truly-aninspiration-blog]

I'll catch your smile on someone's face Your whisper in the wind's embrace Through diamond stars and songs and dreams I find your love in everything

[truly-aninspiration-blog]

pretty-perdita‌:

Perdita tried not to make a face at the mention of a tea shoppe or a bookstore. Anita deserved more than a tea shoppe or a bookstore. She believed that the same way that she believed Paul deserved more than a bar and Roger deserved better than playing gigs once a month, when someone took pity on him.

If there was one thing she had learned, however, about being an adult. It was that life was full of compromise. Her and Paul had had to compromise again and again in their relationship. Sometimes, one person climbed a step up the ladder, and if you loved them, all you could do was follow them along.

(Though, even with this opinion, Perdita still thought Roger was a stupid asshole for not having told Anita earlier. Paul had told her right away, which meant that they had a plan in place. They were prepared.) 

She didn’t get to voice any of this however, because what Anita said next made her scoff. Couldn’t help herself.

“Really, Anita,” Perdita said with a shake of her head. “Do you really think that Paul and I will be sticking around this horrid place? Raise the babies somewhere the forest tries to kill you and the gates of hell open? Not a chance. I came here for you. Paul came here for me. There is nothing keeping us here without you and Roger. We’ll follow. Perhaps, not right away, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Paul had it before Christmas. Transfers to new programs aren’t that hard. He’s talented enough. No promises, but I can certainly tell you that Paul and I are no longer for this town than your or Roger.” 

Anita blinked. 

She hadn’t really considered Perdita and Paul leaving too, though she saw how stupid that had been. Perdita hated the town more than any of them. Anita, actually, didn’t really hate Swynlake at all. She’d grown to love the little town, fitting into it perfectly when she’d had her job and her community. But that was just Anita for you. She could be easily content in a faerytale town like this.

But Anita might have had the same sorts of questions if she had children. Even though Swynlake was a brilliant place to raise children in some respects-- good schools, close-knit community, diverse populace-- it was dreadful in others. She wouldn’t want her babies to be in danger of a haunted forest or a random spell.

And so this...really was the end of an era, in some ways. It felt like an entirely separate lifetime, these past two years in Swynlake. As though she’d simply dreamed it all.

But it wasn’t, because Anita was much different than when she’d came. And she owed that to Swynlake; she always would.

“Oh, well-- well that’s good,” she said and her frown disappeared. She smiled and reached out to grasp over Perdita’s hand and give it a light squeeze. The gesture lasted only a moment. “I’d be hopeless without you no matter where I am anyway. But you knew that, didn’t you, Perdy?”

Milk And Honey || Pernita

[truly-aninspiration-blog]

dalmatianplantationsensation‌:

Roger wanted to stay with Anita for as long as he possibly could – as long as his life allotted him to, as long as they were both living and breathing. They’d only just begun, hadn’t they? After so many years of not saying what they wanted to say and not feeling what they wanted to feel, fate had finally aligned them –

And Roger did not want it to end. He wanted to be with Anita, always, and he wanted to wake up next to her as he had gotten used to doing and he wanted to find her shirts with his in the laundry and he wanted to pour enough water for a second cup of tea.

But there was Edinburgh, the letter in his hand weighing him down like an anchor. There was Brighton, and the marvelous opportunity that Anita had before her.

(He feared that she would grow tired of him being so far; he feared that she would find someone else – maybe not someone better, but someone who was there, who could be there – )

Those were selfish fears. He had to trust in them – he did trust in them.

He reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’d be alright with doing long distance,” he said. “I’ll have breaks, yeah? It’ll be like when you were off at Cambridge. I’ll write you – every week – even though I’ll text you every day. And we’ll have Christmas together – and Easter and a few weeks in summer and whatever long weekend we can spare.”

(The snaking voice of doubt told him that he’d stop writing those letters, that she’d stop answering them, that – )

No – he listened to the other voice. He pictured meeting at King’s Cross during the holidays, of Anita running into his arms. He pictured holiday shopping in London, going through Harrod’s just because they could. He pictured picking Anita up from the station in Edinburgh and showing her to all the places he’d discovered; he pictured being the one arriving in Brighton and looking for Anita’s bright hair.

They could do this.

“We can do it,” he said. “I know it’s not ideal, but – if anyone can do it, it’s us, yeah? We know how to do it.”

Anita didn’t know what she wanted.

Part of her wanted Roger to say no. To take up her hands and grip them very tightly and then ask her to come with him. It was probably the romantic in her who still dreamed in fantasy and wanted what she had read in books. For truly, what was more romantic than having a lover ask you to throw away-- everything-- for them?

But Roger did not give a long, romantic speech. This was not Persuasion, nor Emma, nor Pride and Prejudice. This was real life. Real life was not necessarily all or nothing like the books-- and shouldn’t Anita be grateful for that?

She should be. For what Roger offered was a compromise. It was ever so adult, wasn’t it?

But Anita did feel a streak of disappointment, and then on its tail, sadness. These things mixed in her chest and made her heart squeeze itself painfully. Maybe now it was Anita’s turn, she figured, to grasp his hands ever so tightly and ask him to come along. It would be Anita who was the hero, the dashing Prince, who gave the big speech.

But no. There was a lump in her throat, and she knew it was there because she could never ask Roger to give up this amazing opportunity. He worked so hard for it. He deserved it. And perhaps his practicality wasn’t the stuff of romance novels, but he was right. It could be done. They could be more than heroes and heroines; they could be adults about this. 

So Anita smiled, the sadness settling like a thick fog over the Brighton beaches, which soon, she supposed, she would come to know very well.

She squeezed his hand back. “You’re right,” she said, very adult of her.”You’re absolutely right. We can do that. It won’t be hard at all. After all, it’s you and me.” Her smile grew even softer. She reached up and touched his cheek. “We always do find each other again, don’t we?”

Everything Has Changed || Dearcliffe

[truly-aninspiration-blog]

pretty-perdita‌:

It was one of the best theatre programs in all of England, and if you asked Perdita, Anita deserved it. Anita deserved it more than almost anyone Perdita knew. She’d had a shit two years–everything with her father, her brother, her sham marriage, and then all of the drama with Perdita and Paul themselves–not to mention her drama with Roger.

She’d had a shit time, and she deserved to advance her career. Do something that she wanted to do. Not something her mother told her to do. Not following after Roger because it was something he wanted to do.

For herself.

Perdita had never had a problem doing that. She’d had a problem doing the opposite. Staying in one place. Making sacrifices. Making compromises.

“No,” Perdita said at once to that–because she knew. Wherever Paul went, she’d follow. But, that was because Perdita had the connections and the money and the kind of job that she could get really anywhere. It didn’t matter to her what kind of company she worked for, just that she got to do their finances. 

“But, I also have two babies with him, who need their father, and who I can’t raise on my own.” She tilted her head.

“You’re not like that. You’ve got the whole world wide open.” She paused and pursed her lips, examining her friend of almost seven years (though it felt like longer, it felt like a lifetime. She hadn’t become Perdita until they were Perdita-and-Anita, until they were Perdita-and-Anita-and-Roger-and-Paul.)

“We also both know you’d be miserable without Roger.” 

No matter how Perdita tried, Anita would always be that soft romantic person–Perdita had come to appreciate this quality, over the years. It made Perdita softer too. But, she knew she wouldn’t relish in the freedom. She’d make herself sick with her missing.

“Aren’t there theatre programs up there? Have you looked?”

Yes, Anita had briefly looked at the theatre programs in Edinburgh. There definitely were opportunities-- more opportunities than there were here in Swynlake (where there was, approximately, four-- work for the town, work for Pride U, work for the Secondary or work for the Primary. None of those options were even open to her.) She might be able to work, even, at the uni that Roger was going to, if there was an opening.

But it wouldn’t be the Brighton Theatre Royale. It could never be the Brighton Theatre Royale. But how silly would she be to stomp her foot over one thing when she could still get a perfectly acceptable job somewhere else? With Roger?

Scotland wasn’t so bad at all, incidentally! She quite liked Glasgow when she’d visted years and years ago. The people were friendly, Edinburgh itself was full of history and literature-- the castle that overlooked the city was in itself a marvel, and the sort of thing that would tickle Anita’s stomach to walk underneath. She’d imagine the kings and queens of years past looking down at her.

So-- obviously-- she should go to Edinburgh.

Slowly, Anita nodded. “Yes, I-- well, I know of different theatres and companies. I didn’t see any actual openings anywhere, but...maybe. And I could always work in some sort of a tea shoppe or a bookstore in the meantime, until something does open,” she said, trying to reason with herself.

Yes, she needed to make herself fall in love with Edinburgh. If she did that, the problem would evaporate.

Except...

Her mouth twisted down again. “Except I’ll be so far from you, Perdy. You and Paul. It’s at least twice as far as Brighton.” She sighed. “I’ll miss you all so much.” 

Milk And Honey || Pernita

[truly-aninspiration-blog]

dalmatianplantationsensation‌:

The kettle was on the stove. It took awhile for the water to heat and Roger remembered being little and sitting and watching and waiting for the kettle to whistle. He had liked when it whistled, even if the sound was loud and jarring and sometimes woke up old George from his nap. He had been impatient in his younger years and would sit in the kitchen, munching on biscuits before tea was even done. But his mother told him to be patient, told him that there were quiet moments in the in-between that he ought to appreciate.

“Also,” she had added. “You’ll spoil your supper if you eat the whole tin.”

So, Roger waited now, each second the water took to boil a second longer that they had to bring up the elephant in the room. The steam started to rise. Anita fetched the biscuit tin. The kettle whistled. Roger got the mugs and brewed the tea and soon they were on the couch, trying to make those quiet waiting moments last all the longer.

Anita spoke first.

The job at the theatre is mine if I want it.

And then she went on to talk about Edinburgh and Roger imagined her working at the theatre at the school he was going to and his heart swelled a bit, because he thought about popping in to see her between classes and then going out for whatever tea spot they would find and claim for their own. And he thought of autumn, and how it’d be colder and they’d wrap themselves in sweaters and scarves and –

But Edinburgh was far away from what Anita knew. Far from her mother.

“I don’t want you to give up that theatre job because of me,” he said. “Not that I’m sure you wouldn’t snatch up something easily in Edinburgh – I just … “

Now he imagined being in Edinburgh and being alone. Or worse – being there with Anita, only she hated it, only she was quiet about hating it and just slowly grew to resent Roger and –

“I know how much you love Brighton,” he said, slowly. “And I know that Edinburgh has – well, your mum’s in Brighton. I don’t want you to leave all that behind just because of…me.” He shifted a little. “The program’s two years. We could – I could visit during breaks, yeah? That’s another possibility.”

Yes, Anita loved Brighton. But how much of it was true, genuine, almost childlike love-- for the summers she spent there and her family too-- and how much of it was simply fantasy? Simply...Anita up to her old habits, sitting in the nooks of windows and dreaming of beautiful worlds far away, like the books she read or the things that she painted? Because she had the most vivid fantasy. She could paint her and Roger on the beach and she’d know the colours of it. She knew the dress she’d wear and the colour of Roger’s vest. And oh, the sunset. All the reds, the oranges, the purples.

But that wasn’t real. And so was she just in love with a made-up story? It wouldn’t be real, anyway, if she went off to Brighton and Roger was in Edinburgh.

She could romanticize Edinburgh too. She could come up with those colours, given enough time...even if, yes, that childlike love might ache in her chest, for what she left behind and all that extra distance from the people she loved.

She’d have Roger though. In the stories, it was enough.

She looked up at him and wanted to believe it was enough. Then again, the other voice in her head said taht if it was enough, Roger would still be with her if she were in Brighton and he in Edinburgh. It was like he said-- there were holidays and things. They’d been separated before and they always found their way back.

(Would it be different though? Now that Anita had grown used to the smell of him on her pillows? Wouldn’t the bed feel extra big, sleeping alone?)

Maybe that’s what Roger wanted. (Or was Roger just trying to be...kind? To get out of her way? Roger always got out of her way and directly in the way of himself, no matter how many times she told him not to.)

Anita bit at her lip and looked at him. “Is...would you be alright with that, really? Us being separated? You...wouldn’t mind doing a sort of long distance thing?”

Everything Has Changed || Dearcliffe

[truly-aninspiration-blog]

pretty-perdita‌:

Perdita had been trying to spark Anita’s rage, because she did like Anita much better when she was full of fire. Her simpering could be annoying. It was why, when they had first met, Perdita had walked all over her. Anita had made it so easy to do. She didn’t see that fire for the first few months they had lived together. It wasn’t until afterwards that she decided Anita wasn’t entirely a wet rag of a girl.

And Roger had been an absolute idiot.

It reminded Perdita of Paul, though the position was the exact opposite. Roger had applied, after all. She’d give him props, if he wasn’t an idiot about it. Whereas Paul had refused to go to school–I have to work to support my family, blah blah, he had said, and it had been infuriating. And had made Perdita feel just like Anita did now–

Guilty.

Because Perdita had made the decision to keep the babies, and that had hindered Paul’s life. 

“I don’t think it’s that horrid,” Perdita said with a shrug of her shoulder. “If you’re not ready to move somewhere like Scotland, that’s not your fault. He can’t expect you to just uproot your entire life because he wants to do something. Maybe you could just do–some kind of long distance thing. Could write him letters and everything,” and she was teasing Anita then, because she knew that Anita would delight in letter writing.

“Or you can ask him to defer. It’s not unreasonable, if you don’t have a job wherever he is moving. You can’t just simper after him because you don’t want to break up. There are other options.” 

Long distance.

Oh, it was a little romantic, when Perdy put it like that. She and Roger used to write letters all the time when she went off to Cambridge and he was still there in same corner of the East End. Which had been nice for her-- that first semester had been particularly lonely, full of so many changes, and it had been nice for Anita to close her eyes and think about Roger in all of their usual haunts. She liked to have pretend-tea with him in their favourite tea shoppe or think about the different bookstores they’d be perusing through if she were home. 

Remembering that, it was hilarious how she had denied her feelings for so long. 

And remembering that, she didn’t really want to go back. Because that’s what it would be: one step back. Only this time it’d be Roger off to uni. 

But maybe she owed him that. They could at least...try. 

“I-- I know. You’re right, you’re right. I’d be a fool not to pursue this job in Brighton either, I mean, it’s-- it’s one of the best theatre houses in all of England. It’d be nothing like what I did here, really--” because here all Anita did was coordinate schedules and help develop lesson plans and that was all fun, really, but it was modest work and at the Brighton theatre she’d get to help professional touring companies-- 

But Roger would probably not come with her.

She pouted, then sighed, then looked up at Perdy with her large, sad eyes. “Would you ever do long distance with Paul? If you had to?”

Milk And Honey || Pernita

[truly-aninspiration-blog]

dalmatianplantationsensation‌:

Roger knew that it was his fault that they were not going to be celebrating just quite yet. Oh, they could. He knew very well they could go right onto the Deer and have a round or two and talk about the future as if there was no looming crowd on the horizon. Sure, maybe Perdita or Paul would say something to tug them away, but when given the choice, Roger and Anita were quite adapt at pretending that there was nothing pressing at hand.

And that was what got them to this point. Which Roger was acutely aware of, because even though Anita was smiling and there was not a hint of worry in her voice, Roger knew. He couldn’t wait in this blissful state of in-betweenness forever. Sooner or later, the future would come and kick them both, whether they were ready for it or not. Even if they tried to ignore it, even if they didn’t think it would happen – it would come.

Their hands were still entwined, and Roger lifted her fingers to his lips, gently kissing them, then sighed.

“I’d love to, you know – but…we should talk.” He squeezed her hand gently. “I don’t want to do what I did last time and not talk about it.” He looked at her, searching her face for some sort of sign, some sort of okay that it was alright to move forward (some sort of sign that it was going to be fine and that they were going to be together, always, but that hurt like a wound slashed across his heart (and honestly, Roger would know about that, wouldn’t he?)).

“So, uh. Do you want me to put a kettle on? These things should be talked over tea, yeah?” He smiled a little, reaching a hand to wrap around her waist and draw her closer for a moment, dipping to kiss her forehead, and savoring each little intimate moment as if Anita were going to be ripped from his arms while he turned away.

We should talk.

No. Anita didn’t want to. She was too confused and conflicted. They should take one day, Anita wanted to wager, one day and one evening to be happy for him. Because she was happy for him. The feeling was big and unwieldly and bright. It was so bright that it burned too, if such a thing was possible. It burned and it hurt, but it was happiness, and nothing should get in the way of that. 

Except there were so many things that were, weren’t there? And Anita wanted to blame herself again because it felt easier to do that than to go all over this again... for nothing could be done about what was said or not said but there was still a chance if only Anita would stop wanting what she wanted. 

(Brighton was what she wanted. She wanted a little flat downtown. She wanted to go to the theatre every day to work and she wanted to meet Roger after in one of the little pubs or cafes where she’d listen to him play. They could go down to the beach at night, they could walk with their feet bare in the sand. Kiss on the boardwalk. Make wishes on all those stars. Maybe the ocean would inspire Roger to make music.) 

It was either Anita change her dream or... well, or Roger lost his. And so why not put it off for one more day?

The look on Roger’s face told her that was not possible. Her chest got tight with her nerves. But Anita smiled and nodded and leaned int to kiss him again. It was light, but her hand clutched at the front of his shirt for a second, like she was already desperate not to let go. 

She did though, uncurling her fingers. “Thank you, that’d be-- lovely. I’ll get out the biscuit tin.” 

So they moved into the kitchen. Roger went to the stove with the kettle and Anita popped onto her tiptoes to fetch the biscuits. 

Another few moments and they’d settled on the couch. Anita wrapped her hands around her mug of tea and settled back onto the cushions. She’d pulled her feet up onto the couch too, and they were tucked under her.

She didn’t want to talk. She really didn’t want to talk...

“I-- The job at the theatre is mine if I want it,” she finally blurted. Might as well get that out of the way. She watched the steam drift up from her tea. She thought of the mist on the beach in the morning...she thought of herself there, alone, without Roger.

“But I don’t-- there are jobs up in Edinburgh,” she said and looked up. “I’m sure. I haven’t looked, so-- I’m sure there are plenty of jobs.” 

Everything Has Changed || Dearcliffe

[truly-aninspiration-blog]

pretty-perdita‌:

When Perdita had heard “girl’s night” her eyes had lit up a bit. It had been a while. She would appreciate something to that effect–the singing and good food and wine and manicures. That Hunger Games ridiculousness had left her feeling both burnt out and more testy than usual. 

But, that was not the kind of girl’s night that she got.

She tried not to be annoyed about this. It was very obvious that Anita needed a–pep talk. Or a shoulder to cry on. Or both. And many things could be said about Perdita Mariel Faye, but she was a good friend. Which meant being available for a pep talk or as a shoulder to cry on, whenever called upon.

Now, she was trying to temper her annoyance at losing her girls’ night and at Roger fuckin’ Radcliffe for being a dunce and putting them all in this situation in the first place. Because, yes, anything that affected Anita-and-Roger affected Perdita-and-Paul, just like how anything that affected Perdita-and-Paul affected Anita-and-Roger. 

“Well,” she huffed, “if he would’ve told you in the first place, you could’ve agreed what schools he could apply to that were in places that you both wanted to live. He was a selfish git about it, to borrow your own colorful phrasing.”

She took a pointed sip of her hot chocolate.

Quick as striking a match, Anita’s wet despair caught alight. The anger returned and whipped through her. She had forgiven Roger for not telling her, except that she hadn’t, not really, precisely because of what Perdita said now. There were so many things that would have been different had Anita known that he was thinking of university. She might not have reached out to her mother in the first place! They could have planned something together! She could have helped him with the essays or expanded the net wider, or, or, or…

They’d never know what “or” would look like now.

“Exactly,” agreed Anita then,, her brow creasing. She sipped at her hot chocolate again and her frown deepened. “Instead I’m just the worst girlfriend in the entire world because part of me-- if he doesn’t get in all of this will just disappear and it won’t be any problem at all. And he could always apply again next year! That wouldn’t be so horrid, would it, if we just-- delayed a year and did the whole thing when we were both ready?”

She heard herself though and felt instantly horrible. Her emotions whiplashed the other way.

“No, no, that’s just-- that’s so selfish of me, isn’t it?”

Milk And Honey || Pernita

[truly-aninspiration-blog]

Milk And Honey || Pernita

@pretty-perdita

Anita might have to break up with Roger.

Except no. She didn’t want to accept that. She didn’t see how she could and so Anita kept ignoring and ignoring the problem-- ignored it all the way through Hunger Games where they were transformed into some strange versions of themselves, their relationship more love/hate than friend-to-lovers, and Anita selfish and shallow much to her absolute horror and she’d given a lot of time to obsessive overanalyzing over what all that could mean for herself and for Roger and about herself as general-- was she really such a monster deep down?-- and--

Well, she didn’t even know where that horrid spiral of anxiety went, but she did know that she needed to talk to Perdita. She desperately needed her friend, to the point where she called up Paul Patts herself and told him that he was on toddler duty for the night, for she and Perdita needed a girls night.

It wasn’t really a girls’ night. Girls’ Nights were fun, full of drinking, laughter, dancing, makeovers, that sort of thing. This one had Anita nursing a Baileys Hot Chocolate at 9pm and half-ready to weep.

Poor Perdita. Having to listen to Anita’s many woes.

“I just don’t know what to do,” she said, clutching at her mug, absorbing the warmth through her palms. “Either way, one of us is going to be a-- a-- what is it called? Some sort of trailing spouse or something?”

[truly-aninspiration-blog]

Inquiries # [Open Texts]

Anita:

Interestingly enough, since Swynlake is a magic-friendly town it IS legal and there are no regulations at the moment. Though because of this, Paul is actually putting together a petition to the board! You should contact him about it, it's really interesting and well-researched. I'm quite proud of him. As for the case itself...mm I think it's just a civil court case? I admit, I'm not the best with the legal jargon.

(And oh if I'm Annie, does that make you Anne? Or do you prefer Annette?)

Anita

FROM: annettegrant@swynlakesquire.co.uk

Dear Annie,

That's fascinating! Thank you, I will definitely be contacting him. Do you have his email? Doing a write up on a board petition is something I'm sure everyone would like to know about. And I'd love to be more educated myself!

(As for nicknames, mine is actually Lady, feel free to use it or Anne, if you'd like. Hardly any of my friends call me Annette.)

Best,

Annette

Anita:

I do have his email (and even texted him to ask if it was alright and he says it is!) It's paulpatts@pride.edu

(Lady is an absolute darling nickname! I'd love to know the story behind that one some time. Perhaps it's something best discussed over tea, instead of in parentheses?)

Anita

[truly-aninspiration-blog]

Inquiries # [Open Texts]

Anita:

Hello Annette,

Oh, thank you so much! I quite like Annette too-- I always wanted to be an Anne or Annie, partially because when I was growing up, Anne of Green Gables was my absolute favourite character.

Anyway, yes, the Tritons are Mundus but they bought a curse from a sorcerer here in Swynlake. There are several sorcerers who sell charms, potions, spells, etc. whether you're Mundus or Magick. From my understanding, Attina was upset at Paul after their break-up-- it was...less than amicable-- and retaliated with the curse. I live with Paul's girlfriend, and when Paul woke up (he was staying over), he acted like he didn't even realize they were together! Instead, he thought he was in love with Attina again. Which, apparently was not the intent of the curse but seems rather...convenient, if you ask me.

Let me know if you have other questions!

Anita

FROM: annettegrant@swynlake.co.uk

Anita,

I wasn't aware that it was legal to sell potions and spells! Is there any regulation on such purchases? Is the case criminal?

(I love Anne of Green Gables by the way! Such a lovely book. She's so spunky. I will call you Annie if you like!)

Best,

Annette

Anita:

Interestingly enough, since Swynlake is a magic-friendly town it IS legal and there are no regulations at the moment. Though because of this, Paul is actually putting together a petition to the board! You should contact him about it, it's really interesting and well-researched. I'm quite proud of him. As for the case itself...mm I think it's just a civil court case? I admit, I'm not the best with the legal jargon.

(And oh if I'm Annie, does that make you Anne? Or do you prefer Annette?)

Anita

[truly-aninspiration-blog]

Inquiries # [Open Texts]

FROM: annettegrant@swynlakesquire.co.uk

Dear Ms. Dearly,

First of all, your name is so cute!

Secondly, thank you for being so responsive. I appreciate it. Now, can you tell me what kind of curse? From what I understand, the Tritons are Mundus.

Best,

Annette

Anita:

Hello Annette,

Oh, thank you so much! I quite like Annette too-- I always wanted to be an Anne or Annie, partially because when I was growing up, Anne of Green Gables was my absolute favourite character.

Anyway, yes, the Tritons are Mundus but they bought a curse from a sorcerer here in Swynlake. There are several sorcerers who sell charms, potions, spells, etc. whether you're Mundus or Magick. From my understanding, Attina was upset at Paul after their break-up-- it was...less than amicable-- and retaliated with the curse. I live with Paul's girlfriend, and when Paul woke up (he was staying over), he acted like he didn't even realize they were together! Instead, he thought he was in love with Attina again. Which, apparently was not the intent of the curse but seems rather...convenient, if you ask me.

Let me know if you have other questions!

Anita

[truly-aninspiration-blog]

Inquiries # [Open Texts]

EMAIL BLAST SENT TO THE SWYNLAKE POPULACE: To whom it may concern,

Many of you have probably heard of the impending trial Triton v Patts. My name is Annette Grant, I'm a reporter at the Swynlake Squire. I am looking for anyone who may have information, or even just an opinion, on the upcoming trial. If you have information or opinions, please reply to this email and indicate if you are available for follow up questions.

Thank you,

Annette Grant

Anita: Hello! My name is Anita Dearly and I'm quite good friends with Paul Patts and Perdita Faye. I witnessed first hand the horrible consequences of the curse that Attina purchased against Paul. I'd be more than happy to answer a few questions!

All the best,

Anita Dearly