Who made us this way?

“well, you know how I am, yeah? I’m quite shy. But once I loosen up a bit it’s just fine … it wasn’t like working with you of course but it was a good experience. I tried to remember what you told me about working with other people, I really did. But I’m proud of the album, really. It was a bit of a journey for me but I think it was important.” Flo reassured and took a sip of her juice. Florence Beamed when Isa offered for her to come along with her to the shloft. “I would absolutely love that.” She giggled. “Bon will appreciate the dolls and probably will think the blood is a fabulous accessory.” She grinned and sipped on her drink a little anxiously.

Florence had ordered a Caesar salad with light dressing. Her eyes peaked up when she saw their waiter headed towards them with their food. “Oh yum, I’m starving.” Flo laughed and rubbed her hands together. She blushed deeply when Isabella complimented her, taking a bite of her food. “Oh god, it’s warm enough isn’t it?” She giggled fanning herself with her hand. Florence’s face was a literal shade of red. She cast her eyes downwards at her salad. “Bite? It’s good.” She poked another small bite in her mouth.

Florence poked her fork into the salad and offered it to Isabella. These were common things about their friendship which may have seen a little out of the ordinary to most. Especially given the looks they’d give one another. Flo could recall numerous times when she would hear snickers and giggles when she and Isa would float down the arena hallways with each other, arms wrapped around each other and whispering in one another’s ears like school girls. But that was their normal. Their once sexual relationship had only strengthened that chemistry to the point where it was undeniable.

As Flo offered Isa a bite of her food, she quickly chewed and swallowed her sandwich. Her cheeks were initially full and then she reached for the fork offered and swallowed. They always were very touchy-feely and Isa knew how tactile her best mate was - with or without sex involved. After all these years, she knew what Flo meant about the weather - it wasn’t really hot but it surprised her that Flo got flustered with her compliment. She was careful though not to let her mind wander too much. That was dangerous and Isa tried hard to focus on the here and now. There was always a pull towards Florence but it was hard because so much damage was done - mostly on Flo’s own self-destruction. “It’s good, yes, I mean it’s a salad,” she giggled slightly. “In terms of salad, perhaps it’s the best ever.”

She swallowed and gulped her drink. It wasn’t hard for her to get full quickly anyway. “Yeah it’s a bit warm, I suppose. You’re not paying for this meal by the way,” she reached for some money in her purse. “You can pay next time, Flossie.” It wasn’t a big deal really, they traded off often. “I’m really looking forward to playing the new songs live. I’m certain everyone will dig them and my heels need to get a work out on stage,” she teased and of course Isabella Summers was always going to be behind the keys banging away, flared hair and a short whir with heels to boot.

She finished her sandwich and asked the waiter for the cheque. There she paid and offered her bigger bag so Flo could put the books she gave to her. “Since we have a hike ahead of us with that hill, I’m certain you can carry the books with no problem,” she pushed back her chair and waited for the redhead. Shades over her eyes, she was glad she came out to see Flo. Moving back to London wasn’t easy for her - as much as it was her home, Los Angeles was still near and dear to her heart. She had felt mixed coming back but seeing Flo look bright, healthy and happy about the album made her feel as if Flo was in a good place. “My gran doesn’t want me keeping everything in the house. You know what else she has, my dad’s VHS tapes, I’m going to have to go through them too. Crazy! It’s like nothing changes, yeah?”

“I feel like one day scientists will dig up old VHS tapes and that’s how they’ll know of our existence.” Flo joked with a soft laugh. “It’ll be nice to look through them I think.” She took a final sip of her cranberry juice and stood to her feet. The walk back to the shloft was a charming one and the weather was as nice as it could be for their location. 

“You look beautiful.” Florence smiled warmly in reference to Isa saying she made the dress herself. Florence lit up once Blake poems were mentioned. Florence was totally a poetry hoe and would read anything and everything. “That’s so kind of your dad.” She giggled and took them with a nod of ‘thank you’. “Tell him I said thank you so much.” She smiled widely as she flipped through a few of them before gently stacking them at the side of the table so she’d remember to take them home. While she was pleased with the books, her fascination laid with the small framed blonde before her, as it usually did. She was the topic of her interviews on many occasions, the subject on her music’s very existence at that. Florence thought that was normal for two female pals. But people can be fools.

“Working with them was nice, it wasn’t the same though.” And that’s all she had simply said to the subject before taking another sip of her cranberry juice. There wasn’t a need to say anymore because she knew Isa knew what she meant by that statement. “You know me, I’m a creature of comfort.” Florence added.

The redhead giggled at the bombard of questions in general but she didn’t mind. “Bonnie is doing fantastic and is so bright, I’m so proud of her. She likes these strange little dolls and honestly when she asked for one for her birthday I was tempted to tell her that Aunty Flo doesn’t purchase beings from the underworld.” She joked and crossed her hands over her lap with a soft laugh. A slight shoulder shrug. Her typical body language.

“Grace is absolutely basking in motherhood. I always knew she would  be a good mum but honestly it’s kind of scary how good she is with Bonnie. But I suppose she had loads of practice on my arse didn’t she?” Flo teased and took another drink, licking her lips. “You’re going to the studio? I don’t think the apocalypse itself could bring that place down.” Flo giggled and leaned across the table. “You look really good, Iz. Really. You look beautiful.” She repeated again and found herself blushing for some odd reason. Things like this seemed so embarrassing when she was sober. But years ago, drunk Flo would’ve had no problem telling Isabella what a fine human being she was in every aspect of the word. Some in the most innocent of ways and some definitely the opposite, especially when it was one of those nights.

The waiter came back and Isa quickly ordered a simple tomato and mozzarella sandwich and waited for Flo to order what she liked. More than anything, of course Isa was intrigued about the new album. When Flo said such a simple statement, her eyebrow went up. It couldn’t just be “nice” she wondered. Was Florence not excited about the new album? Was she terrified? Isa couldn’t leave it there. It wouldn’t make any sense if she just left it there. There were a million other thoughts and questions she had about the album. What were the themes? Sure she read Useless Magic and all, but she wondered what bits were going to make it. What did it actually sound like? So many ideas and she wondered what Flo scribbled, what she played? What hand in all the production she had? All these were important details to Isabella! Even more important than the compliment that Florence gave her.

And oh, that compliment. Isa did her best not to read into it, but it was so difficult with the way that Florence eased forward to her. Isa had spent years waiting for Florence to make up her mind and choose her and then every single time, she chose a boy. She chose Stuart, she chose James, she chose Felix, she chose and chose anyone but Isabella. And it wasn’t like they hadn’t actually spent all this intimate time together and things happened. Then all the drinking, the drugs, the anxieties, the entire world of Florence Welch really took over Isa to the point to which she wondered if she even existed in her tiny body as a person anymore because Florence was so all consuming to her. It took so much time for her not to think of Flo in any romantic way because Flo was all messed up and so was Isa.

The last thing that Isabella wanted to do was kick up feelings in Florence and risk her losing sobriety and all she worked for. The blonde had long put everyone else first and it was a flaw to some extent. That was what happened when she produced, when she worked, when she put everything of her own life on hold every single time Flo rang her up pissed at 3am from too many parties and drinks and needed help. Until Florence stopped ringing her up and then Isa felt almost slighted that Flo didn’t need her anymore.

And then it all came tumbling when Flo chose other producers and Isa had been perfectly fine about it but now she wondered if Flo was hurt after all. All these thoughts. She probably looked like a space cadet.

Must come back down to earth now, stop orbiting, Isabella Summers. It’s just a compliment. She doesn’t mean anything else by it, right? Right. She made a stellar album, your gut tells you that, remember. You support, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Isa sipped her water and edged forward on the table. “Well, I don’t know if I can simply let stand the word nice about your producers, Florence. Come on, they’ve worked with Lana and a fuckload of others. Aren’t you going to tell me all about the themes? Just cos I didn’t produce with you, don’t leave me out, come on,” she nudged her and reached across the table. “Creature of comfort yes, but it’s important you took a chance and put yourself out there. No matter what happens, I’m behind you all the way.” And she meant it, of course. “Of course Grace is a perfect mum, I babysat her, that’s why,” she laughed softly at little Grace running around all these memories. “This just means I’ll have to get Bonnie the dolls. We can’t have her thinking they don’t exist! Maybe I’ll add some extra little sparkles of blood…” she bit on her lower lip. “Kidding. Maybe.

“Well if you want after we finish up with brunch here, you can come with me to Dean St. and check it out. I’m sure there’s some vinyl we can at least break out if you can stand listening to Bone Thugs again,” she teased. Oh the magic that the Shloft ever produced. It could tell a thousand and two stories of the walls that ever talked. “And you have to stop complimenting me so much, Flossie. If you keep doing that, I’m going to get a complex. I can’t grow any taller at this point in my life and I already have enough heels.”

The waiter came with the food. Isa made jokes about herself because well that’s what the Englishwoman typically did in her own sassy way. It was also a self-preservation thing because she was worried that if her heart even so much believed for half a second that Florence remotely had feelings for her, it would turn into all this pining and unrequited feelings all over again that hurt Isa so very badly. She was as scared as ever of her own heart. How many times had she gone home and her dad and mum wondered if Flo was ever going to get her act together? Or how many more times could she possibly wait? It was hard enough trying to keep your heart safe when it was out there.

Florence had ordered a Caesar salad with light dressing. Her eyes peaked up when she saw their waiter headed towards them with their food. "Oh yum, I'm starving." Flo laughed and rubbed her hands together. She blushed deeply when Isabella complimented her, taking a bite of her food. "Oh god, it's warm enough isn't it?" She giggled fanning herself with her hand. Florence's face was a literal shade of red. She cast her eyes downwards at her salad. "Bite? It's good." She poked another small bite in her mouth.

Life had certainly caught up with Florence in the end. The questionable experiences she had endured had no doubt made themselves known to her in the form of grief for things she had done to those she loved and those who maybe deserved a bit more kindness than she had sought out to give them. Now, instead vodka in her orange juice every morning she simply had coffee - and while that may not seem like a big deal, it is when you have a little bit of orange juice with your liquor at 9:00 am. Or at 4 in the evening, depending on what kind of night it was.

Yes, she was definitely a partier and enveloped herself completely in the Rock ‘n’ Roll lifestyle as she had always dreamed. But reality is quite different than fantasy and usually alcohol helps with the disassociation of reality, because in the end reality is no fun when you’re hung over a toilet vomiting your guts up after too much speed and fireball.

Florence lived pretty clean now. Sure, she’d indulge in a glass of wine every now and again because well - she’s English and the English are at the very least sociable drinkers. But none of the hard stuff. Even the smell sent her into gag fits because it reminded her of a time when her knuckles would tease death’s door, almost ready to knock. Maybe she had even knocked but was too sedated to tell. But she could definitely feel the sense of adrenaline in her stomach from the possibility that ‘This could be it’ … that maybe once she downed just one last shot she would end up on the floor and people would gather around her while she choked on her own vomit because they too were out of this world high and or drunk.

When Isa was around however, things at least were a little different. She knew maybe Isa didn’t know that she knew this, but she could recall numerous times when Isabella would prop her head up or turn her on her side so she wouldn’t choke on what was sure to come up later. Or when she’d wrap a blanket around her when the toilet seat had become a pillow of comfort because the redhead couldn’t bare to stand up. Or the gentle strokes along her back as she cried for the 100th time that this would be the last time.

Florence remembered and would one day thank Isa when she was strong enough to.

Florence sat at the table sipping on some cranberry juice with a little umbrella on the side of it for decoration. Her green eyes shot up from the glass when she saw the blonde approach her, looking like she would just drop and roll down the hill at any moment - books flying every where. Florence giggled a bit and stood up, clasping her hands nervously as she always did with any time of meet up. Her awkwardness would never leave, it was an ingrained feature.

Finally, Florence approached her once the books were on the ground and she wrapped her arms around Isa’s tiny frame, smiling from ear to ear. “Hello, darling.” She said simply as her mouth pressed against Isa’s cheek in an endearing kiss. “You look lovely today. What have you brought? Bricks?” She teased and looked down, pulling Isabella’s chair out for her.

There was a moment briefly where Isa caught sight of the dark drink on the table and the tiny umbrella where she wondered what is Florence drinking? But that moment passed quickly because she was enveloped in a warm hug. That kind of warm hug that Florence was always so known for that could sweep anyone off their feet, or in Isa’s case off her off of her heels. The height difference was always so noticeable when they hugged. The tall redhead always seemed to envelop the tiny blonde in every way with a hug, even in her heels. Isa’s arms always reached up higher on Flo’s waist. The kiss simply made Isa slightly blush and she tucked some of her dirty blonde hair behind her earlobe. “Thank you, I made the dress myself.

“Bricks, she says, bricks,” she pushed slightly back playfully. “Yeah cos my dad is an awesome bricklayer,” she said before she sat down and grabbed one massive book of poetry out and handed it over. “No, no bricks but you get a collection of Blake poems instead, Flo.” She let Flo eye it on her side of the table. “He’s cleaning out so cherish them, my dad doesn’t give out books all the time for free.” Honestly, Isa could have simply left the books and Flo would have been fascinated for hours without so much of her very presence there.

She crossed one leg over the other and the waiter came by with a menu. “I’ll have a seltzer water, please,” she turned before she stared over with her blue eyes at Flo’s green ones. “ The waiter left and Isa leaned back in her chair. “So alright, tell me all about the new album. You’ve hinted at it in little spits and spurts to me over FaceTime, so here I am.” Of course she was really interested in the whole sound of the album, what producer like her wouldn’t be? Plus she hadn’t really been a part of it for the first time ever. “Was working with Brett and Emile everything you wanted it to be? Do I have to go beat them up? Cos i totally will if they didn’t treat you good.” Isa was only partially kidding but she knew Flo chose well for producers and she was proud of her anyway for giving this a go.

See the whole thing about Florence + The Machine was that they had started it out of fun. Sure it became bigger than either Flo or Isa could have possibly imagined. She knew making the last album had been so draining and tough on Florence with the sobriety and a heartbreak and everything else. It hurt Isa’s heart whenever Florence went through something horrible - no matter how creative the output was. She seemed like she was in a better place and that was all that Isa hoped it could be. Everything old seemed new again.

The waiter returned with the water and Isa took a sip. “It’s good to see you though, Florence. I only recently moved back here. I have to go by Dean St. later, make sure the studio hasn’t completely fallen down to the ground. How are you doing with everything?” she realized then and there too she hadn’t really a chance to actually see Florence in awhile. The two of them had their own lives now outside of the band. Isa was in Los Angeles for great stretches and it was hard at first on Flo she knew being apart from her. After all they had lived together in LA back in much headier times, but it was necessary for Flo to clean up. “How’s Grace and Bonnie? Are you totally loving being an aunt? I’m sorry…” she shook her head. “I’m asking like ten million questions. I’ll shut up,” she laughed and leaned back in her chair.

"Working with them was nice, it wasn't the same though." And that's all she had simply said to the subject before taking another sip of her cranberry juice. There wasn't a need to say anymore because she knew Isa knew what she meant by that statement. "You know me, I'm a creature of comfort." Florence added.

The redhead giggled at the bombard of questions in general but she didn't mind. "Bonnie is doing fantastic and is so bright, I'm so proud of her. She likes these strange little dolls and honestly when she asked for one for her birthday I was tempted to tell her that Aunty Flo doesn't purchase beings from the underworld." She joked and crossed her hands over her lap with a soft laugh. A slight shoulder shrug. Her typical body language.

Late Summer 2017. As Isabella Summers made her way to a cafe near Camberwell, she had a few thoughts on her mind. Okay maybe more than a few thoughts. One was that these books she brought back from visiting her family back in Aldeburgh over the Summer from Reed Books were a little heavy even in the bag. Her dad had a clearance sale and said to her, “Iz go on and take ‘em back to Flossie. I’m sure she is running low on some poetry and I want to make room for some Bob Dylan biographies I bought.”

Isa of course wasn’t about to protest. It was always a trek back to Aldeburgh. At least now she didn’t have to tweet to get a lift up there, now with Uber. It was a summer of change, she thought. She moved back to London from Los Angeles. With the Orange Cheeto in power also known as Trump, she felt a little less safe living in LA. Plus although she was still producing Jessica Simpson, L.P. and some soundtracks, she really wanted to get back to London. It was like slipping on a pair of her favorite pair of heels again and getting back to the city she loved (no matter how messed up it was getting). But oh there were other things on her mind. Like starting on her own album in earnest and finally getting out her own sounds. Isa worked so hard for everyone else all the time and she loved it, but she also knew it was time to find her own voice too and put out her own sounds.

Mainly she wondered how Flo was holding up. They kept in touch after the How Beautiful tour of course, never far from texting but she knew Florence needed a break. It was surprising to hear in various phone calls and FaceTime conversations how Flo was ready to jump right back into the studio. Isa was surprised by it all but she decided right then and there Flo was ready to tackle this on. She replayed the conversation in her head. They had shared the conversation over FaceTime.

“Do you remember years ago you told me that you told me to work with other people?” 

“Well yeah, of course Flossie, I meant it too. I think you’re ready. You’ve been really producing since the beginning, you’ve got this.”

“I know Isa, but…Chris and Mairead are gone now. I don’t want to lose you too. We always have done everything together.”

“But what? You got this, babe! Look you already have the songs written from the poems. It’s going to be amazing. Emile and Brett know exactly what to do and will help you. it’s time, Florence. I’ll be here for you always and the other half of that question you posed, remember I said work with everyone else but always return to me.” 

“You’re right, Isabella. I’m just being my usual nervous self. You know how I am.”

“I do, which is why I’ll tell you again you’re a legend and a superstar. You got this. I can’t wait to hear it.”

Isa knew Florence was nervous in creating High as Hope but she also believed very strongly the time was to come where she was her own person. Despite all the drunken antics years ago, the shy ginger definitely developed a good sound and an ear. Would it be different for Isa to not be a part of Florence + The Machine’s album? Yes, of course, she knew it. After all she was the Machine and there was the tiniest fear that maybe Florence wouldn’t need her anymore. The last tour for them both had been hard on her towards the end for a variety of reasons she didn’t really disclose publicly. It was strange to play in back of Florence instead of by her side. They played such huge stages and it was the first huge tour they were all really sober (well, Isa did stop her weed) but more than anything to Isa she always wanted Florence to shine. Gone were the days of having her her heart burst and crushed by every drunk little boy that Flo took home instead of her. It was hard at first, but this was how things had to be if the band was going to make it.

So Isa was happy to simply be a listener for once instead of the other female in the room making a decision with Flo. They really had both come so far since banging on floors and Flo biking over after seeing “Dog Days Are Over” from art school shouting, “LET’S WRITE THE BEST SONG OUTSIDE OF FUNERAL BY ARCADE FIRE, PLEASE!” or drunken hangover days. Those were really gone now and partially Isa was nostalgic but if it meant that Florence was sober and keeping healthy - then she would have gladly given up every day getting high for the chance to make sure her best mate stayed alive.

This afternoon though was a different affair. She was going to meet up with Flo for the first time in awhile to catch up. Flo mentioned that the album was nearly done and it wasn’t all that long ago that Useless Magic popped out. So really, Isa was so thrilled for Florence. Of course everything she said to the redhead she thought would come true. That was the power of her positive thinking all the way. Yet as she slipped into her familiar heels and dress she actually made that was kind of a little shimmering dress (shockingly not in black but it seemed too warm to do that) she got out of a cab and walked out to the cafe. The sun was out and her long dirty blonde curls came around as she made her way. It had outdoor seating and she ducked her head a little bit.

There she spotted someone she would have known was there without even so much a blink of her blue eyes towards green ones. Honestly, there were people in Isa’s life she would have known even without walking. Her family, some of her friends and Florence Welch.

Yes, she was definitely a partier and enveloped herself completely in the Rock 'n' Roll lifestyle as she had always dreamed. But reality is quite different than fantasy and usually alcohol helps with the disassociation of reality, because in the end reality is no fun when you're hung over a toilet vomiting your guts up after too much speed and fireball.

Florence lived pretty clean now. Sure, she'd indulge in a glass of wine every now and again because well - she's English and the English are at the very least sociable drinkers. But none of the hard stuff. Even the smell sent her into gag fits because it reminded her of a time when her knuckles would tease death's door, almost ready to knock. Maybe she had even knocked but was too sedated to tell. But she could definitely feel the sense of adrenaline in her stomach from the possibility that 'This could be it' ... that maybe once she downed just one last shot she would end up on the floor and people would gather around her while she choked on her own vomit because they too were out of this world high and or drunk.

When Isa was around however, things at least were a little different. She knew maybe Isa didn't know that she knew this, but she could recall numerous times when Isabella would prop her head up or turn her on her side so she wouldn't choke on what was sure to come up later. Or when she'd wrap a blanket around her when the toilet seat had become a pillow of comfort because the redhead couldn't bare to stand up. Or the gentle strokes along her back as she cried for the 100th time that this would be the last time.

Florence remembered and would one day thank Isa when she was strong enough to.

Florence sat at the table sipping on some cranberry juice with a little umbrella on the side of it for decoration. Her green eyes shot up from the glass when she saw the blonde approach her, looking like she would just drop and roll down the hill at any moment - books flying every where. Florence giggled a bit and stood up, clasping her hands nervously as she always did with any time of meet up. Her awkwardness would never leave, it was an ingrained feature.