How We Combined

Sugar

It all started one day in high school. A sweet April day, with birds chirping and the sun already blinding the sky at 7:45 AM.

My first-period class, precalculus with Mr. Andrew. Yes, singular Andrew. No, not Andrews. He went by his first name because his last name made the class giggle.

We were still teenagers and so the boys would make anything lewd...I do have to say this one is a bit...obvious.

His last name was Weiner.

He claims it is German, so you are supposed to pronounce it like “wine-er” but it wasn’t getting by my class or any of them before us.

And so, he went by Mr. Andrew.

But that’s all besides the point because this day was perfect. Ten minutes before the bell, Mr. Andrew introduced a new student to us, Oliver. We were just ending our freshman year and so we were still babied.

Oliver said hello in a charming English accent and that he just moved here from London.

I felt like he was talking just to me, that the room was just us: like a scene in a rom-com, but we were unfortunately just in math class. Sitting in the un-air-conditioned heat with a fan swirling around the dust and smell of sweat. He took a seat in the back for the last few minutes of class.

30 seconds before the bell was about to ring (I know this because, like in every class, I was counting down the minutes until art) as everyone was packing up their notebooks and binders, Mr. Andrew called my name.

“Miss Penny, would you be ever so kind as to show Mr. Oliver his way around our school?”

He called all the students Misters and Misses as if to normalize his own name. We liked it though. It made us feel all grown up while in reality, we were still just fourteen and fifteen years old.

I very quickly said of course and Oliver and I were off. I walked him to his next class and then got permission to leave 5 minutes early from each class of mine to pick him up.

His transfer to school was immediate and so he had no time to prepare for a move. He just picked up his whole life and plopped it down right into my neighborhood.

It turns out that we had 3 classes together–pre-calc of course, biology, and english. We had the same lunch period too.

I was so eager to get to know him.

Flour

Adding in a little bulk to our story. It’s a little bland, but necessary.

I got to know Oliver quickly over the next few weeks.

From there, we started to hang out after school too.

His mother is a diplomat, and so at the drop of a hat, he was required to shift his life across seas; without even saying goodbye to all his friends and family. His father also works, so he spends a lot of time at home babysitting.

He has a younger sister, 6 years old, who is very attached to him and it’s adorable.

His house is very lovely and unique for the block he lives on.

I also found out that Oliver is very much a mess. He puts on a great façade of being incredibly put together, with the accent and sleek clothes and everything, but he did not fool me for long. He is messy and all over the place; the opposite of organized.

And he got to know me too.

He got to know my horrendous attempt at a British accent.

That I live in the coziest cream-colored cottage with my mom, almost completely secluded from town.

I have the biggest sweet tooth and I want to be an artist.

These were just the basics, but we learned a lot about each other in a few short weeks.

We just kept hanging out and being around each other. He became my closest friend, he became friends with my friends, and I started seeing his new friends out of school too. They were mostly boys from the baseball team though, so...I didn’t have much in common with most of them. I don’t really like sports. Nevertheless, I supported Oliver but teased him whenever he had to sport the too-tight pants. He allowed it, knowing how bored I got watching. It was reparations.

That’s how it was for the rest of those 3 years of high school.

We were lucky to have found each other.

Unsweetened Cocoa Powder

Ironically, he went to college in America, and I went to school in England.

He went to Cornell to major in business, whatever that means, and I got into Oxford University for fine art, and as he says to me back, “whatever that means.”

I saw him when I went home for “holiday” and he saw me when he visited family on “vacation.”

My accent had become impressive at this point.

We never grew apart but spending time living our lives across seas was just...different. More delicate but more special. We knew that we could pick up right where we left off.

We went through friendships, relationships, heartbreak, loss, struggle, and success apart. We shared these moments together, separately.

Baking Powder and Baking Soda

We rose to become new people. People that we both still enjoyed being around, but grown-up.

We have officially earned the titles of Mister and Miss that Mr. Andrew gave us for the rest of the year or whenever we crossed paths in the hallway.

Butter and Milk

Now comes the creaminess of the time right after we both graduated. Creamy is an odd word to describe a moment in time, but it is the perfect word.

I stayed in London, hustling around working part-time at a bakery, and had an apprenticeship with a major artist right in the city. It was the perfect combination of jobs for me.

Oliver was staying in a flat only fifteen minutes from me. He landed a wonderful job with a high-paying firm in the heart of the city as well.

Our lives here almost directly reflected our lives from back home–me in the coziest apartment and him in an elegant doorman building. Though, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. We fit into our lives and each other's lives perfectly. No topic was off-limits for us, and so I was never ever uncomfortable around him.

Espresso Powder

Oliver would stop by the bakery on a coffee run between meetings, or I would call him over if I made a new treat I wanted a second opinion on. I sometimes stopped by his apartment after my apprenticeship job to watch our favorite show.

2 Large Eggs

However, my apprenticeship had an expiration date and I was scrambling to find a new place to fit in. I got a name and contact out of the apprenticeship to put on my website and resume but without the extra income, I needed to pick up more hours at the bakery.

Even working longer shifts, I knew that there was no better time to finally pursue my own art. It was time to go out on my own.

I was going into the studio on weekends to paint and worked the hardest I ever had to get a collection together.

Now instead, Oliver was the one giving me coffee. When I was up late hours in the studio, he would text me from a bar or restaurant to make sure I was doing alright.

A Pinch of Salt

With a lower income, I wasn’t able to afford a place in the best neighborhood, being a woman. Though, no neighborhood is really safe for women at night anyway. I had lots of locks and an alarm and so I painted and painted and painted.

That's why Oliver always checked in on me. Though I suspect he would've done so anyway.

Vanilla

After months of calloused fingers and a tightened jaw, I had been accepted to a gallery 30 minutes outside of London. This was officially my first showing, aside from the requirements in college.

My mom flew in and stayed the week to be there, Oliver was there, and Oliver’s sister too–his family moved back to London that year.

Everyone I loved right in my arms.

I had the sweetest taste in my mouth leaving the gallery. Partly from the bakery catering my opening...but mostly just from relief and warmth.

Frosting

“And then, about four years later, you come in. That’s part of your story now.”

As if she’ll understand any of this–I’m sure I’ll be repeating the story a million times over.

Though each time is still as sweet as the first.

We swirl the chocolate frosting onto the cake with her tiny hand pressed in mine.

She wobbles to get the sprinkles from the cabinet and clumsily shoves them onto the edges, spilling them all over the countertop and floor in the process. I swear the messiness does not come from me.

She excitedly cuts out a giant slice of our fresh chocolate cake and runs it into the other room where my paintings all hang. Also known as the office. I like to call it my personal collection.

Oliver walks out, chocolate cake in one hand, Lilly in the other, announcing, “my two favorites.”