Hayley smirked and shook her head. “A cup of tea. Would you like one?”
I rubbed my temple, wishing the headache that had been my constant companion since moving to the United Kingdom two weeks ago, would go away.
“Oh yeah, sure. That sounds great.” I tried to give my co-worker a weak smile. She was obviously too polite to comment on how miserably I failed.
That was the wonderful thing about the Brits; they were all so damn well mannered.
“Milk and sugar?” Hayley went on.
What?Were we still talking about tea? Or acuppaas she called it?
Hayley, noting my bewilderment, took pity on me. “In your tea. Do you like milk and sugar in it?”
“Uh, I guess—?”
Hayley snorted and shook her head “Bloody American,” she said with what I hoped was affection before walking away.
I let out a sigh and rolled my chair back away from my desk, stretching my arms above my head, trying to stifle the yawn that came out anyway. It was taking me a long time to get over my jetlag. I wasn’t adjusting to the five-hour time difference between my hometown of Greenport, Virginia and my new home in Chester, England.
“You need to exercise. And eat better. All that greasy fish and chips stuff you’re eating can’t be good for you,” my mother scolded over Skype after pointing out how tired I seemed.
“I’m not eating fish and chips all the time, Mom,” I assured her.
I wasn’t sure she believed me. Because she seemed to ascribe to the idea that the only foods available in England were fish and chips and crumpets. To say that she was uncultured would be an understatement.
But I was missing her. And the tiny three stop light town I had left behind in search for a great adventure.
I had applied, on a whim, for a project manager job with a CFL, UK based IT firm. They were looking for “global talent” to work on a new platform they were developing. I had always wanted to travel and thought,why not.
I had only graduated from college a year ago so though my chances of landing such an amazing job would be slim to none. I didn’t even mention it to my mother thinking it was a shot in the dark.
Then came the request for a phone interview. Then an offer to fly me to England to meet with the Head of Infrastructure and Development.
Now here I was, six short weeks after applying for that no-chance-in-hell job. And I was questioning why I had been so eager to leave good ol’ US of A.
Because living in England wasweird.
On paper we spoke the same language, but half the time I had no idea what people were talking about.
I had no idea why I’d need a jumper if it were cold or an arial to watch TV without paying for cable. And what the hell was a sarnie and why was I asked if I’d like one if I was feeling peckish?
I loved the city. I was a bit of a history buff, so I appreciated the old buildings and the beautiful cathedral. I enjoyed wandering through the grocery stores and trying foods with funny names like frazzles and pasties.
But I was lonely.
I wasn’t a very outgoing sort of person. Making friends wasn’t easy for me and the few I had held on to over the years were thousands of miles away.
The British were polite to a fault but I felt like an outsider and I wasn’t sure how to make a place for myself in this new world I now called home.
And I missed my mom. Though I would never admit that out loud.
She had raised me as a single mother after my father left when I was three. She worked hard to make sure I never went without. I could admit I took her for granted.
It wasn’t until I couldn’t see her every day that I realized how integral to my life she really was.
I had thought myself a bonafide adult. I had graduated from college with a degree in Information Technology. I had no plans to spend my life in Greenport. I was better than that. I had greater aspirations.
I was going to travel the world and experience all sorts of new and interesting things.
