Borders and Barriers

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"He made her into a crashlander who was seeing reality for the first time, and she was happy to plummet."
When someone hears the name Emelia Archer they think of the Instagram famous trendsetter, the daughter of Archer Enterprises, and the one who crashed herself into a scandal.
When someone hears the name Jackson Andrews they go...huh? Then they think of the art-loving boy, the one who stayed in the shadows for the fun of it.
Push those two opposites together and you've got a story, maybe not a love story, but a story nonetheless.

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11. The end is never just the end.

 

Chapter Eleven

 

The end is never just the end.

It’s the new beginning

That we always fail

To notice.

 

The truth about them came out at last.

Emelia was there to weather the media storm created after Jackson’s scandal. Spencer declared a restraining order against him and the government covered up the breaking of his own restraining order against Emelia.

Sometime during the coming week, Jackson admitted defeat with the media and came to terms to the fact that he was in the spotlight for that moment.

They told the story of Trinity to their parents, pretending not to see their mothers glistening eyes and his brothers knowing smirks and they called the Croft’s who were sympathetic and not at all hard to convince.

Jackson even turned his Instagram off private, tagged Emelia in every photo she was in and watched as his follower count rocketed from a mere thirty-four to fifty thousand in a matter of hours. They didn’t watch the news since every reel is about the two of them, but he did put his own statement on Instagram that Emelia supported.


“The world is crazy,” he said, as they laid down in Jackson’s flat, “But go big or go home, you know.”

“I’ll be here every step of the way,” Emelia murmured into his hair and felt his grip on her hands grow tighter.

Their relationship was new, but it seemed bright. Emelia was confident that he was her new limits, infinite and paint striped.

She laughed silently and contentedly, ironically and inwardly calling herself the Love Queen who had fallen in love with a turtle.

It still took Jackson four months to agree to do an interview, which inevitably led onto a photo shoot and magazine debut.


Taking on the world together

Benjamin Teel visits Brigadier’s most iconic couple to talk about love, life and challenges.

On a day which is more spring than summer despite the month, I knock on the door of what used to be a famous party land for A-listers. Now, it’s the humble home of Emelia Archer and Jackson Andrews, a couple for nearly half a year. I’ve met Emelia Archer before, in her younger days, when she was continually asked about her lifestyle and glamorous reputation, and its become my most famous piece to date. But I am nervous. Having never met Jackson Andrews, who recently jumped into the celebrity lifestyle, I have no idea how the interview will progress.

The door is swung open by the man I’m most nervous to meet; Jackson Andrews who stands barefoot and harried. His fingers smear the doorknob with shocking orange paint and he swipes them on a pair of loose denim pants.

“Emelia beat me at rock paper scissors,” he begins, and it is clear that the interview is going to take an interesting turn, “Sorry for the mess, I’ve got a commission and Emelia is finishing up with the work she brought home last night.”

The news of AI and AE merging had shocked the business world but was abated by a new line of technology being revealed on the same day. 

There are no questions as to what Emelia had brought home when the social media channels of the Archer and Andrews Branch lit up for days.

The living room is spacious and filled with creamy tones. There are pops of colour, the most of which comes from the easel stood in the middle of the room, pots of paint and brushes held on a table nearby.

Emelia Archer sits on the adjacent sofa and looks up with a smile when I enter, snapping the laptop shut. 

Jackson’s eyes are drawn to the easel but with a glare from Emelia he sits down next to her and allows his newest coat of paint to dry. It looks like a violent sunset, swirls of colours stacked upon one another.

Jackson Andrews is now a leading artist, commissions off the charts and his debut set displayed in art galleries across Britain for a tour that lasts until November this year. It's no news that he finds art calming and allows him to soul search, coming into his own true image.

“A commission from Scotland, it’s the first time I’ve had to look at reference photos for highland cows,” Jackson chuckles, eyes going distant.

Emelia punches him softly in the shoulder, “We went there for a couple of days last week, don’t lie.”

The room is awash with amusement and I must frame a question, “Peaceful getaways seem to be a signature for you two, first to Trinity for the fabled three-month contract and now to Scotland.”

“We love small towns, there’s just something about them that serves as such a contrast to life in Brigadier. We only have each other and our mental states to amuse ourselves and that leads to character building and cleansing,” Emelia starts, asking if I wanted tea shortly thereafter.

As she putters into the kitchen Jackson takes over from where she left off.

“Trinity showed us our real selves, the people that were either being held back by our own fears or by social media. It also helps when you have a supportive community who get to see people who they don’t know. We’re blank states there.”

“How are you feeling being on social media and in the spotlight?”

It's hard to miss the way Emelia is attuned to drink choices when she places coffee in front of Jackson instead of the specified tea.

“I thought it would be invasive you know, every part of your life on display for a group of strangers to make assumptions. But its different to what I originally thought, there’s a kind of privacy in it as well, I get to show a particular side of my life to the world and hold back the other parts. There are dangers in it but also a kind of art to it. We leave our own impression on the world.”

“How about you Emelia for someone who is cutting back from personal accounts?”

Ever since the realisation that the Love Queen was no more in terms of casual partying, Emelia had shown less and less of her own life, turning to Business and quirky photos of Jackson to abate everyone.

Because we as a nation, crave knowledge about anything and everything to do with celebrities, the people we hope to meet and be like.

“Social media will always be a long-term friend, it’s what I’m good at, to know what the public wants to know and what it doesn’t want to see, but scandals are quick to come by and they can be disastrous on their own. I’ve realised that my previous lifestyle caused a lot of self-image problems not only to myself but to others, turning role models into nightmares and I wanted to change that. It’s better not to shove everything down people’s throats and spread a positive message that way.”

“And that positive image is?”

“To be the real you, not the one Social Media thinks you should be; the happy, thin, meticulous version,” Emelia answers and she is not afraid to poke holes in modern celebrity culture.

According to her the way Hollywood and the spotlight transforms people is something from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and she has attended several conferences and media channels to broadcast that message.  There has even been an uptick to the rallies she’s attended and she’s a proud feminist, although fighting for equality instead of ‘female hyper-support’ (the new term quoted from many ever since the famous male put down last year).

“Also, to find your niche of people, to find the community you identify with and fight your own fears. Follower count and likes don’t really matter when it comes to broadcasting what you love, as long you feel good doing it,” Jackson comments, drinking eagerly from his cup.

“So how is your relationship?” I ask because it's what everyone wants to know. They are sheltered but appear happy from their Instagram accounts.

Emelia snorts and Jackson pats her on the shoulder, “We get asked this a lot,” he begins, “We’re like any relationship really, trying to find our sea legs.”

“I wash paint of more surfaces then not and pick-up left-over socks that he’s dropped or taken off. He washes the dishes twice because I always leave something on them, and when we’re both too tired from our work the house gets left to accumulate into a pig sty.”

“Does that mean you’ve moved in together?” I ask because they are certainly alluding to it.

“No, we share accommodations, but Jackson’s flat has become more of an art studio than an actual living space,” Emelia chuckles and Jackson looks affronted.

“I keep it for sentimental reasons, which is also why Emelia would never give this place up. We’re both private people but understand that the tabloid coverage is not something we can ignore altogether, the best thing we can do is keep the stories truthful.”

“What do you mean by that Jackson?”

I knew that when I took this interview I would have to deal with challenges from all fronts concerning the media since the pair had become ambassadors on the subject.

“We hated each other in the beginning, I only took the contract for the sake of my mother and we fought something crazy, not talking for days afterwards. But we realised that we had to live together, and we grew as friends which later turned into something more. Living together now is easy compared to then. We only want to spread the truth and not overly edited rumours.”

“We don’t know what may be on the cards later in life, but for now we’re happy where we are and we’re savouring the moment, living in each second because who knows what could happen to the world?” Emelia pitched in.

That quote sets the tone for the rest of the interview, savouring the moment in everything they, and we, do.

When I leave it's with a bunch of notes and a full stomach because Emelia wouldn’t let me go without cake – apparently adopted as Therapy Cake, to calm any nerves or feelings. They wouldn’t tell me where they learned that from – a ‘trade and Trinity secret’ they tell me but some things are reserved to their own heads.

Privacy may be the last thing that media and the tabloids crave but it is what they deserve, and it is what I give them now. No more rumours are needed; only the truth.

 

end

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