Work Text:
Nathaniel’s phone chimed, and he looked at it with a pang of nerves. It wasn’t his father or Mona - and it definitely wasn’t Rebecca - just an unknown number. He opened it.
If you’re gonna sit outside like a stalker, you could at least warn me. And an immediate follow-up sprung up. It’s Heather. You can come in if you bring Advil and something cold I can eat.
Nathaniel scoffed - or he tried to. It felt hollow. And after a second he turned his car on. There was a 7/11 down on the corner, it would only take a second to get there.
He knocked when he got back. “It’s open,” Heather yelled, so he opened the door. A wave of memories hit him, but he just pushed through. “Did you get sweet or savory?” Heather asked.
“Sweet,” he said. “Though, one pint is salted caramel.”
“Yes. That. Spoons are in the drawer left of the sink,” Heather told him, and unpaused whatever she was watching.
Nathaniel didn’t think himself as someone who liked being told what to do. He liked being in charge. But he obeyed Heather’s implied order and got her a spoon and the salted caramel ice cream.
She looked up at him when he came back, and for a second, his stomach twisted uncomfortably, waiting to be told how he’d fucked up even this simple request. “Thanks,” Heather finally said, her expression unchanging. “I figured it was about a 50/50 shot of you actually coming in.”
“I wasn’t stalking anyone,” Nathaniel said. “I know she’s not here. And I’m not trying to find her.” He didn’t know what to do with his hands under Heather’s even gaze.
“Right,” Heather said. “But like, lurking outside a house in your car is a very stalker kind of move, so I feel justified. And since you’re obviously not doing much else right now, you’re welcome to chill and watch Vikings with me if you want.”
Nathaniel sat a safe distance from her, and he looked at the TV screen without really registering the show. He glanced at Heather when he couldn’t stop himself, and found her staring. “No offense,” Heather said, and took a long bite of ice cream. “But you’re still acting like you got caught doing something.”
“I did get caught,” Nathaniel pointed out.
Heather shrugged. “I’m not the cops, though. So you could like, chill. Relax. Or leave, if you want.” She took another bite. “Thanks, though. Walking is a little touch and go. I don’t want a blood waterfall situation in a gas station.”
Right. She had a baby like three weeks ago. Nathaniel breathed a little easier, as he felt what he was coming to recognize as sympathy. “No problem,” he said. “Has it been…”
“It fucking sucks,” Heather said flatly. “Yeah. My pants have been a crime scene for a month with no end in sight. Love it. Great. My roommate is gone, my boyfriend is busy, Valencia has a hot girlfriend, and my parents keep encouraging me to give up and move back home, so.”
He wished he felt less raw at the mention of anyone’s parents. “That sounds difficult,” he said. “Do you need anything else?” The show was still playing. She wasn’t really paying any attention to it.
“No. Thanks, though. Even if you did sound like a sexy robot when you offered to help me just then.” She glanced over at him again, this time with a sly smile on her face, and added, “Seriously, you can relax. I know you have an off-switch, Rebecca wouldn’t be into a robot.”
It still kind of hurt to hear her name. “Off-switch engaged,” Nathaniel said solemnly, and Heather snorted with her mouth full. So he continued. “Robot powering down.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she said, and returned her attention to the TV. Someone was on a ship with a shield, and apparently that was a big deal.
Heather finished the pint by the time the episode was over, and she tossed the carton sideways on the coffee table. Nathaniel leaned forward after a second and set it up straight. “Wow,” Heather said, and he turned to find her sucking on the spoon. “That’s quite the compulsion.”
“It’ll drip.”
“Yeah. Totally couldn’t be wiped up later.”
That argument didn’t feel totally valid, but Nathaniel didn’t argue it any further. “What does it say about me, then?” he asked. “That I picked it up.”
“I dunno,” she shrugged, still looking at him. “I’d need to observe a pattern of behavior. But I stopped trying to diagnose people, in favor of living in the moment.”
“That’s mature,” Nathaniel said.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” she said. “Iv’e done a lot of growing. And also, if your only exposure to me has been through the lens of Rebecca, it was probably less than accurate.”
He had to give her that. “Fair enough. I probably wasn’t at my best either.”
“Are you kidding me? You went all Prince Charming with her dad, that was great. Then the dating, which was probably great since she moved in for a couple weeks. The affair, less great, but. You’re human,” she said with a shrug. “You’re fine with me, dude.”
That felt odd. Nathaniel couldn’t quite recall if he’d ever been in a conversation where he was told so explicitly where he stood in their eyes. Certainly not in law school, absolutely never with his parents. And Rebecca had a lot going on, she didn’t spend a lot of time telling him exactly what she thought. Maybe she didn’t think he needed it.
“Whoa,” Heather said. “So that’s what it looks like normally.”
“That’s what what looks like?”
“Spacing out without a musical number in your head.” Heather shifted, uncurled her legs to stretch them out and put her feet on the coffee table. “Which part of what I said triggered it?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“Alright, C-3PO,” she said. “Isn’t this cloak such an anachronism? Look at it. God. I love this show. Earrings hadn’t been invented yet.” So they stopped talking about him, and they watched several episodes of men fighting and reigning and whatever. Historical shows weren’t one of Nathaniel’s areas of knowledge. But he watched, and he wondered how long he could stay before it got weird.
At six in the morning Heather finally stirred. “Okay,” she said. “I’m going to bed. And you have work soon. Aren’t you super invested in your job? I remember her complaining about it. Like, a lot.”
“Yes,” Nathaniel answered. “Right. I do.” He stood up.
Heather tried to stand too, but she had a hard time with it. She grunted, and made a face, but she didn’t ask him for help. He watched awkwardly, hesitated before he asked, “Do you need help?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she grumbled, but she held her hand out to him. And he took it, helped her pull herself up, and he held on when she wobbled. “Damn. You’re strong,” she said, and let go. “Thanks for hanging out.”
“Sure,” he nodded, and watched her hobble back to her bathroom. Later, when he was in his own shower, quickly shaving, he realized he should’ve said thanks to her, too. He was the one who really needed the company.
He was walking at his desk, reading a deposition, when Paula came in without knocking and shut the door behind herself. “I’m busy,” he said preemptively.
“Why are you in Heather’s recent texts?” Paula demanded.
“Why don’t you ask Heather?”
“Because Heather wouldn’t tell me,” Paula admitted, and she watched Nathaniel walk for a second. “I’m just worried about the both of you. We were all close to-”
He cut her off. “I don’t need to talk about it. I’m fine, and I don’t need to be worried about.”
“Did your dad have something to say about worry?” Paula suggested after a second. “Worrywarts aren’t very smart? That was a classic around my house.”
He didn’t like how close to the mark she hit. “Is there anything else you need?” he said impatiently.
“No,” Paula said. She’d been giving up easier without Rebecca around. “Nope. Go back to your power walking and have fun working yourself to death.”
It was obnoxious how well that guilt trip worked. He paused his treadmill, and stepped off. “Wait, Paula,” he said reluctantly. “I’m okay. I just… brought Heather Advil.”
Paula put her hand over her heart. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll back off. I’m sorry, I’m used to having to scheme.” Nathaniel nodded. It hurt too much to try to respond. “Carry on,” she said, and her blessing shouldn’t have meant anything to him, but it did. He took the treadmill down a few notches for the afternoon.
His father called out of nowhere a few nights later, demanding a depo copy to make sure Whitefeather was doing its job properly. It was a simple question, easy to fulfill. Paula did the deposition and she did a great job. There was nothing to worry about. But Nathaniel still felt like his stomach might drop out at any time, as he emailed the files over. He was dizzy, and there wasn’t anyone left he could think of who might care.
He wasn’t sure when his measured deep breathing turned into frantic shallow pants with sharp pain in his side. He did some push-ups until his core was under control, and then he texted Heather because he couldn’t stand to look at anything in his barren apartment.
Stopping by for some light stalking need anything? He grabbed his keys and was in the car before she replied.
Wow you must be lonely. Mini snickers ASAP. He read it standing in Giant Eagle. He had a bottle of filtered water and a bag of baby carrots for himself, and as he added Heather’s demands to his basket, he got another text. Valencia wants rosé and sunflower seeds if thats cool.
He got those too, and didn’t speed on his way over. And he didn’t sit in his car for too long either, he got out and brought their things to the door like a normal person.
Valencia answered his knock. She looked him up and down, once, and said, “Yeah. I still get it. Did you get me sunflower seeds?” He held them up, and she took them. “Yummy,” she said, which he thought he was supposed to feel self conscious. Which, it worked. “We’re watching Game of Thrones,” Valencia added.
Nathaniel blinked, surprised. “I read those.” He came in and shut the door behind him, and Heather was right where she was before, in a different pair of sweatpants. “Hi,” Nathaniel said to her.
“Robot voice is still on, huh,” Heather said, and she put her hand on the couch next to her. “Here.”
“Well, I was thinking I’d just go back out to my car,” Nathaniel said. “Watch the place.”
“As if,” Valencia said from the kitchen, and she pulled the cork out of the wine bottle. “Sit down weirdo. Are all nerds so insecure?”
Nathaniel frowned. “I’m not…”
“You read the Game of Thrones books,” Valencia said. “Sit down.”
She was an undeniable ten, Nathaniel registered with a dull kind of echo of his old competitive instinct. And Heather was at least an eight, depending on the situation. He should be going after them, proving he was the old Nathaniel. Even though the old Nathaniel hadn't bothered with romance at all.
"Hey," Heather said sharply. "Tell me what you're thinking right now."
"Dating is distraction, women make you weak," Nathaniel answered without really thinking about it. And then he kind of snapped out of it, and when his eyes refocused, Heather was looking actually taken aback. "My dad said that," Nathaniel added. "One of his sayings."
"Jesus Christ," Heather said. "And I thought my parents were bad."
"You need to unwind," Valencia said, and she came over with two glasses of wine. "This one's for you. Come on." And she nudged him until he went to the couch and sat down. Then she handed him a glass and sat on his other side. "Neither of us want to date you," she added then, quieter. "If that's what you were spacing out about."
"Okay." He didn't know why that rejection stung.
"But that doesn't have anything to do with your inherent worth," Heather said. "You seem to measure that through several outside metrics, when truly it comes from within. So. Take that as you will."
Nathaniel had absolutely no idea how to take that. "I'm not here for therapy," he said, to change the subject altogether.
"Then, why are you here?" Heather asked, in a very slow drawl. And again, like the last time he was here, he felt like she was effortlessly, completely in charge.
"I don't know," he said. "This was a mistake." And he got up again, still holding the rosé.
"For company," Valencia said, looking at her phone. "He's here for company. He broke up with his girlfriend, his side piece is gone, and his family is distant." In the following silence she looked up at him, and in her eyes he saw recognition. Then something about her hardened, and she flipped her hair over her shoulder. "If you try to lie to us, you're out," she said. "We're kind of tired of that."
He hadn't known Rebecca long enough for her to really lie to him. It's the first time he thought of that as a kind of blessing. "I don't need company," he said anyways, because his ears were still kind of ringing from that phone call with his dad and he didn't want to imagine Dad's reaction if he ever found out about this.
"Fine," Valencia said, texting again.
For a second, Nathaniel thought he'd go through with it. He was looking around for the appropriate place to put this untouched glass, though, when he made accidental eye-contact with Heather. She held her hand out, so he went over to hand her the wine, but when he got there she shook her head and leaned over to grab his free hand. Surprised, he let himself be pulled down onto the couch again, and then Heather leaned in next to him.
"Dany's about to burn down the slave-owning guy," she said matter-of-factly. "You don't want to miss that. Drink." She lifted the wine glass towards his mouth.
Nathaniel drank. He watched. Admittedly, it was pretty awesome. There was also something nice about Heather stretching her arm across the back of the couch, touching his shoulders. And with a glass of rosé in him, Nathaniel found it increasingly easy to relax.
His phone rang halfway through the next episode, and it didn't occur to him to panic until he saw it was his dad. "Fuck," he said, and hopped up to flee to the kitchen. He answered on the last ring. "Hey Pop."
Dad was mad. Not-letting-him-get-a-word-in-edgewise mad. He'd wanted to see this days ago, and the witness stuttered, and the page numbers were way too small. But when he paused for breath and Nathaniel's brain caught up, he realized that those were just minor mistakes. Paula had done too well to be picked apart the way he usually did.
"I'll take care of the page numbers," he said. "And we can clean the transcript up to make it clearer. I'm sorry I didn't send it earlier. Put it all in an email and I’ll take care of it first thing.“ And that was it. There wasn't much else his dad could say - except of course for threatening to take the law firm away again. But Nathaniel was used to that, and once it was over he got off the phone.
The girls had paused the TV, and they were both looking at him. Nathaniel attempted to smile. "More wine?" he asked.
"Sure," Valencia said, and looked at Heather.
"Who was that?" Heather asked.
Nathaniel made the decision to ignore her. He opened the fridge to get the wine back out - and his carrots, he was hungry - and he turned back to ask if either of them wanted anything else only to find Heather upright, in the kitchen.
"Whoa," Nathaniel said. "Does that hurt?"
"Yup. I'm in total agony," Heather said, deadpan as always. "Who was on the phone?"
"So you can't walk except when you want to pry into my life," Nathaniel said, and closed the fridge.
Heather reached out - lost her balance and wobbled, face twisting up - and put her fingers over the underside of his wrist. He frowned, but then it dawned on him and he pulled his arm away. It was too late. They both knew she'd felt his pulse racing. "I'll take a guess if you want," she said.
"I don't."
"If something's wrong, we should know."
"Nothing's wrong." That was too obvious of a lie; he quickly amended it. "It's just work."
"Work," Heather repeated. "Is Paula okay? Are you gonna try to fire her again?"
"No, she's been doing a great job."
"Then..."
"Then you've got nothing to worry about. So you can stop," Nathaniel said in what he thought was a final tone.
With surprising strength, Heather pushed him back against the fridge and kept him there with a hand on his chest. She was about as tall as him, he registered vaguely. And for a second, she looked actually mad. "You sounded scared," she said.
"It's not Rebecca," he answered, hoping that's what she was asking.
"I know," Heather said crossly. She looked at him intently. "I heard you say it was your dad," she finally said. "So I really don't get what your deal is."
"Privacy, for one," Nathaniel said.
"You're funny. Like, in a corporate way," she told him, and stepped back. "And you've clearly never had friends before, so I'll give you a pass."
“A pass,” Nathaniel repeated. “I don’t need a pass.”
“If you don’t need a pass then tell me what was up or leave,” Heather said, and then she winces. “Christ.”
“What?”
She fixed him with a look. “My vagina’s a stretched-out sock right now, that’s what.” Nathaniel squeezed his eyes shut at that mental image, and Heather shrugged. “Whatever, you asked. Are you telling us or not.”
Nathaniel considered. “I’ll accept that pass,” he decided, and Heather snorted. “Do you need help back to the couch?” he asked, and Heather accepted his arm to lean on.
“You’re such a gentleman,” Valencia said. She was still looking at her phone; it was apparently a permanent fixture. “When you aren’t acting like a douchey frat boy with things to compensate for. Paula was right.”
“Pardon me?” Nathaniel got Heather back down on the couch and went back for the bottle of rosé.
“Paula was right,” Valencia repeated while he was pouring herself another glass. “She said there was more to you than meets the eye. I mean, anyone who falls in love with Rebecca and can’t get over her after everything she’s done has to be some kind of… good person.”
Heather nodded, and motioned for the bottle until Nathaniel gave it to her. She took a big swig, grimaced, and passed it back. “I missed wine,” she said. “God. I’m never getting pregnant again. Unless it’s my kid.”
“Amen,” Valencia said.
“Alright,” Nathaniel said awkwardly. “I can go.”
“Or you could be comfortable with discussion of women’s natural bodies and free yourself of the bonds of the patriarchy,” Heather said. “Lame.”
Nathaniel blinked. “Huh,” he said. “Well. What do I say?”
“Why, because your experience with women’s bodies is like Rebecca and somebody in college, or whatever?” Valencia said, but then she made a face. “Sorry.”
“No,” Nathaniel said after clearing his throat. “It’s fine. Good one.”
“No,” Valencia said. “It was mean.”
“She’s been trying to get over that,” Heather said. “We’re both ditching a lot of unhealthy habits now.”
Nathaniel didn’t want to say anything, but it seemed hard to deny. “Now as in now that Rebecca’s gone,” he said. “Right?”
“Well.” Valencia took a pointed sip.
“Yeah,” Heather shrugged. “Basically. We all developed a lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms while we were friends. So. We’re working on it. I’m working on my tendency to overanalyze.”
Nathaniel raised his eyebrows. “Oh.” He took another sip of wine and thought about what he might work on, if he had anything to work on. Well, in the privacy of his own mind he could probably admit that he did need to work on things. A few. Several, maybe. His inability to open up, for one.
“When she comes back, we need to be our best selves,” Valencia said in a carefully cheerful voice. “To facilitate her continued recovery.”
“If she cries,” Heather said to Nathaniel, “Hug her. She likes being hugged even though she complains about it.”
“If you hug me I’ll break your fingers,” Valencia said through tears.
Heather shoved his shoulder, and Nathaniel wasn’t sure who he feared more so he decided to hug Valencia. It was awkward. Kind of like hugging a delicate bird. But she allowed it, and as they separated she said, “Wow. You’re a really good hugger.”
Nathaniel smiled a little. “Any time.”
“What the fuck, I want action,” Heather said. She looked at Nathaniel and frowned. “Oh. Hey dude, not like that.”
“Like what?” Nathaniel said stiffly.
Heather groaned. “You do it,” she said to Valencia. “I’m exhausted.”
“We aren’t going to have sex with you,” Valencia said, slightly too loud. “If you thought that was ever on the table. Not that you aren’t hot, or ripped, or surprisingly emotional available, but-”
“But I banged a great guy who was into Rebecca and I hated it, totally. Every second of it. Even though I liked him before all of that,” Heather cut in. “And I’m not about to lose any of my remaining friends.”
Nathaniel frowned, and drank some more, and then got up to help Heather to the bathroom when she needed it, and waited to help her back. He frowned a little when he heard the shower running, and when Heather came out with dry hair he was even more confused. “Did you just shower?” he asked.
“I peed in the shower,” she said, putting her arm over his shoulders. “It hurts. Do you want more details?”
“I mean, in the interest of learning more about the natural female body,” Nathaniel said, and he smiled when she smiled. A successful joke. “Is it normal?”
“Mostly,” Heather said. “Most women need stitches and stuff. Bleeding for six weeks or something. Sitz baths, which I won’t torture you with further information about. But yeah, think long and hard before you do this to any woman.”
“Copy that.”
They watched two more episodes. They finished the wine. Valencia leaned against a pillow propped against Nathaniel’s side. And Nathaniel was feeling comfortable here, with the two of them talking about how hot Khal Drogo was, among other things.
“I just think Lena Dunham is really digging herself deeper,” Heather said. Valencia nodded. “Nate? Anything to add?”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t like her hot nickname for you?” Valencia said. “I do. Nathaniel’s such a mouthful to say. I hate it.”
“Okay, Valencia,” he said pointedly.
“We just call her V,” Heather said. “And unless you complain very loudly I’m going to start calling you Nate.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m going to.”
“Don’t outside of this house,” he amended.
Heather nodded once. “For now,” she said.
That wasn’t good enough, but Nathaniel forgot to bring it up so he decided to put up with it for a while. It was nice sitting here with both of them, anyways. He felt safe. "It was my dad on the phone," he finally admitted.
"I know," Heather said. "We heard you say hi to him."
"He's mad at me," Nathaniel continued. But after announcing that, he felt self-conscious about it. He was bringing their fun night down and making it a bummer. If he was at his parents' home, they'd tell him not to dredge up the past.
"Why is he mad?" Valencia asked after a moment.
Nathaniel shrugged, and in the process scooted slightly further down against Heather's side. "It's fine," he said. "I just. Wanted to tell the truth. Save that pass for later."
"Okay, so why's he mad?" Heather said from above him. "Something about page numbers? I was eavesdropping."
That seemed like it might be sweet, for her. Nathaniel shrugged again, and slid further. "Mad because he didn't have anything to be mad about, today. I guess. It's fine, it's whatever. Don't worry about it. Should I leave? It seems like you're both falling asleep."
"You can sleep on the couch," Valencia said. "Dibs on Becca's room."
"I told you to call it the guest room," Heather mumbled. "It's not hers anymore."
"It's hers if she comes back." Valencia sat up, looking sleepy and a little annoyed. "But I get your point."
Heather put her arm down, over Nathaniel's chest. Like a seatbelt, he thought to himself. "I'm on the lease," she said. "I paid rent with Josh Chan fine money for like eight months, so it’s basically mine.”
"Josh Chan fine money?" Nathaniel repeated.
"She gave each of us five bucks every time she mentioned Josh Chan," Valencia said. "I got a new laptop."
So she talked about Josh that much. Interesting. And by interesting, he meant that it hurt, in a way he didn't expect. "Oh," he said because it seemed like they were waiting for him to say something.
"Are you like, totally bummed out by how obsessed she was with Josh?" Heather asked. "Because it wasn't really Josh. He was an avatar for her idealization of her youth as a time before she was 'broken', per se. That's all."
"No, I know," he lied. "Yeah. I met the guy. Not exactly life-long obsession material."
Valencia laughed, but it kind of sounded painful. "Yeah," she said. "He's an idiot. He thinks he can beatbox."
"He got a staph infection from a gross dirty glass."
"He cheated on me with her and then left me for her and literally never called again." Valencia stood up and walked down the hall to the room that wasn't Rebecca's anymore.
"He does magic," Heather said.
"God," Nathaniel said in disgust.
"Yeah, you were a real step up." Heather patted his chest. "Get off me, dude."
"Right, sorry." He started to sit up, but she pulled him back down with the arm over his shoulder. "Um?"
"You don't have to apologize for physical intimacy with platonic acquaintances," she said. "Just a quick FYI. And while I have you here, your chest is very firm." She let him go then, and he sat up feeling slightly dizzy. Heather put her hand on his shoulder to get some leverage to stand, and she groaned as she moved. "This sucks," she said, standing.
Nathaniel stood with her. "Can I help?" he asked.
"Nah," she said. "It's better than it was a few weeks ago. But come with me, I'll get you a blanket and shit."
He came with her, and he didn't protest when she leaned on his shoulder some more. It was kind of refreshing that she was tall enough to. Palette cleansing. "It was very brave of you," he said when she was sitting on the edge of her bed. "To carry the baby."
"Not really," she said. "I just didn't know what else to do. Which. In retrospect, I should've done literally anything else." She blinked a couple times quickly, itched her nose, and it occurred to Nathaniel that she was probably trying not to cry. "Here, you can have these." She leaned back and pulled two pillows off her messy bed, tossed them up to him. "What's your ideal blanket texture?"
Nathaniel frowned. "I don't know. Any."
"Your funeral." She got back up, and hobbled a few steps to the closet. He got a blanket with horses woven into it on and a knitted lavender blanket. "So are you gonna be mysteriously gone when we wake up in the morning because you'd rather flee than acknowledge the connection we had?" she said.
"I thought you were not doing that anymore," he said to stall.
Heather shrugged. "I'm tired." She crossed her arms and leaned against the closet doorframe. "You can run. I'd get it. No one can be forced into any growth or progress. You have to want it." He nodded several times, with no idea what to say. "Do you want it, Nate?" she said, and he thought there was some flicker of hope or something, in her face.
"Sure," he said. "But don't call me that."
"Right. Do you need any... like, pajamas?" Heather said, eyeing him up and down. "I don't have anything that broad. Probably."
"I have pajamas in my car," he said.
Heather frowned. "What? Why."
Nathaniel shrugged. "I'm prepared. I have three days of clothes in my car at all times."
"Right," Heather said. "There's definitely no pathologies connected to that." He opened his mouth to retort, then closed it because he honestly couldn't remember why he started doing it. His father probably told him to, he thought. "Sorry," Heather cut in. "Never mind. That's great. Now get out of here, before you notice half my clothes have blood from my uterus on them."
He retreated to the couch. He stepped outside to get his go bag, discovered he'd forgotten to put the toiletry bag back in, and decided one night without brushing his teeth wouldn't kill him. Then he curled up with the pillows and blankets. They smelled like Heather, he realized. And that wasn't necessarily negative.
It was hard to fall asleep. He kept thinking about what Dad would think of this, how he might possibly find out. It looked really weird, to befriend the female friends of your ex and spend the night at their house. It was strange, right? It had to be weird. But when he thought of leaving, he thought about Heather, asking him if he was going to run. So he didn't.
His phone alarm went off at 6:15 am on the dot, as usual, and it only occurred to him after he'd silenced it that it might wake up the girls. He also needed to shower. The night before, he'd had some vague plan to wake up earlier and go home, but it was too late for that. So, tentatively, he got up and headed towards the bathroom with his clothes for the day.
The door was only half shut, but the light was on and the shower running, so he knocked. "Yup," Heather said.
He edged the door slightly more open. "Are you-" he began, stopped as she turned off the shower and got out. She had the same shirt on as last night, and a towel wrapped around her waist.
"You can get in if you don't mind me finishing up out here," she said. "There's a whole pad situation I have to set up." Her voice was deeper in the morning
Nathaniel weighed his options briefly. "I didn't bring my toiletry kit," he said.
"Oh, no worries. Use whatever you want. Valencia keeps giving me conditioners and lotions that I'll never use."
He awkwardly moved past her and stepped into the shower, leaving his clothes on the counter. It was an enclosed space, very echo-y. At some point, someone hung a shower curtain over the glass door, so he did have privacy. And he really needed to shower to get to work; he couldn't back out now.
He stripped in the shower, tossing his clothes over the top of the door, and turned the water on. "Move the handle to about 12:30," Heather said from outside.
"Thanks." He did, and it went from ice cold to medium warm.
"Any time."
There were indistinct sounds he couldn't quite place. Something like stickers being peeled, and then Heather swore under her breath. He tried not to think about it and chose a shampoo that smelled like cinnamon, and was getting a good lather going when there was a sharp knock on the door.
"Yeah," Heather said loudly, and the bathroom door opened. "Morning."
"Who's in the shower?" Valencia said quietly, but he heard it anyway. The bathroom was basically an echo chamber.
"Nathaniel," Heather answered, and several seconds of silence followed.
"Babe, you okay?" Valencia asked, and Nathaniel thought he heard her move towards the toilet area. "Is it a clot?" she asked quieter.
"No," Heather said. "Just a cramp. My meds wore off like an hour ago, I haven't taken any more."
"Well that was stupid. Where are they?"
"I'm not sure."
A sigh, and then a draft as the bathroom door shut again. "I'm leaving too," Heather said, he thought to him. "We'll leave you alone." Her voice sounded tense.
"Thanks," he said, and the door opened and closed again. In the silence, he let out a deep breath. This was a very strange morning.
It took him longer to get ready than usual. He had to find Heather's hairbrush to borrow, and then he had to borrow her deodorant too, which was confusingly the same as his. But he was presentable with six minutes to spare and that was all that mattered.
The girls were in the kitchen, leaning on the island. Valencia held a cup of coffee in both hands. Heather was mid-sip. "So you're out of here, huh?" Valencia said.
"Got to get to work," Nathaniel said. "So." He sat on the couch to put on his shoes, felt their eyes on him most of the time he was tying. When he stood, he looked at them again and said, "I'm not, uh. I'm not making this a habit."
"Ouch," Heather said with no expression.
"Who says we'd want you to?" Valencia said.
"Right," Nathaniel said briskly. "This was weird. We don't need to repeat it."
Heather rolled her eyes at Valencia. "Sure," she said. "Okay. See you in what, like two weeks?"
"Eight days max," Valencia said.
He was ruffled. Definitely ruffled. They were totally wrong, just confidently so. That's why he was thrown, he decided in the car. That's definitely why.
Paula stopped him as he was walking in. "Hey," she said. "I think you copied me on that email chain last night on accident. When you forwarded the depo to your dad. Is everything okay? I saw the response."
Nathaniel took a deep, centering breath. "It's fine," he said. "Minor issues. You did a great job," he added without looking directly at her. "Nothing to worry about."
"Thank you," she said, surprised. "Okay. So the tin man got his heart back, huh?"
He clenched his jaw. "No," he said. "No, that's not what this is."
"Okay," she said agreeably, but she had a knowing smile on her face that he hated.
"I'm serious. Just because your work was acceptable-"
"You said great."
"I know what I said," he snapped, and retreated to his office.
Upon reflection, he decided he probably didn't need to panic. Paula was done scheming, mostly, and she didn't want to screw him over. She liked him, even - the stuff with Rebecca got him some respect from her. One day, though, he'd have to process the shortness of breath that always came up when he thought about someone getting him in trouble with his dad.
He was an adult! He couldn't get in trouble. Even if he got fired he could just get another job. With his stellar resume and recommendations from people that weren't his father, he'd have one in a few hours of looking. He could move, too. He didn't have to stay here.
Paula barged in around lunch time, and she held a finger up to preempt his argument. "Listen," she said. "I looked up that weird diet you're on while you’re mad at yourself about Rebecca. Keto whatever. And this is allowed."
More than allowed, it appeared to homemade. He wasn't sure exactly what it was. Cauliflower rice, avocado, lean steak. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how Paula made this in the office kitchen. But she had, she made him a home-cooked meal and she did it for him.
“What is this?” he said.
“It’s lunch,” Paula said patiently. “For you.”
“No I know. But why?”
She shrugged. “A gesture.”
Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you talk to Heather and Valencia?”
Paula didn’t answer, which was a yes, and said, “Listen. Just eat it, and let yourself feel okay for a second.”
“I’m more than okay,” he said grumpily. “I’m good. I’m great. I don’t need anything.”
“Sure. Well, you’re welcome,” Paula said, and she left. Which was so cool of her that Nathaniel resolved to return the favor somehow, someday. Somehow.
Eight days later, Nathaniel was at the gym - definitely not on his way over to Heather’s house - when he got a text. Snacks of the night are berries and pretzels. When u coming?
He considered not answering, but he had grown past that. So he answered. Not coming.
Damn. Keeping that hard shell.
Nathaniel put his phone down and kept running. But even while he ran, when his head was usually clear, he couldn’t help but think that he’d feel better if he went to Heather’s after all. But that was weakness, and he’d just have to fight it.
Every time he felt that instinct, he ran it off. Or lifted it off, or whatever, but that didn’t sound as good. He fought it until he couldn’t, and then two weeks after the last time, he showed up on Heather’s doorstop with grocery bags.
“Cute,” Heather said, standing in the doorway. “You have a few important questions to answer first, though.”
“Go,” he said.
“What’s your deal, dude?” she said, and let him through the door. “I want that wine too much to wait.”
He snorted, and took the bags to the island. “Where’s your corkscrew?”
Heather got it from a drawer and handed it to him. “I’m serious, though,” she said, watching him. “Why the long silence? Or is that just what I should expect.”
“Maybe,” he said, and opened the bottle. And that’s the answer he’d give anyone else, but the look Heather gave him changed all that. “No,” he said. “No, I’m sorry. I was…” He actually doesn’t know what that was, now that he’s standing here with her. “I didn’t want to… be weak. Or… rely on this.”
Heather narrowed her eyes. “Weak how? Because I’m a woman or because I encourage you to talk about your emotions or because you actually let your guard down for once in your life?”
“Um.” He blinked several times. “I guess all of those, kind of. It’s… yeah. A combination. Now that you mention it.”
She nodded wisely. “And where did that stem from? Your dad?”
“I mean, I was always… closer with my mom. But Dad didn’t exactly approve of that. Well, he didn’t exactly approve of emotion in general. So. Stemming from there, maybe.”
Heather continued to look at him suspiciously. “Alright,” she said. “So you’re surprisingly forthcoming. I dig it. Let’s say we’ll not ghost each other, after this. Because I didn’t text you either.”
“Okay,” he said. That was comforting. A mutual promise. He could agree to that.
They sat down for more Game of Thrones, and pretty quickly Heather ended up with her head on his shoulder, her curly hair tickling his ear. She was still herself; her arms were crossed and she shivered when he tried to put his arm around her. “No,” she said. “I only like gender non-conforming cuddle. I’m a big spoon,” she added when he looked confused.
"Right. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry." She sat up a little straighter, and sort of rearranged. She was moving easier, Nathaniel thought.
They got up for snacks after another couple episodes, and Nathaniel noted that Heather was walking without looking sick. "You feel better?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said. "A lot happens in two weeks."
"I probably deserve that," Nathaniel said.
"God," Heather said. "Don't say that. Now I feel bad about the dig." She took a bite of a carrot, the snap incredibly loud, and watched him with a level gaze. "What do you do, when you're not here?" she asked.
"What do you do?" he said reflexively.
"Hector and I cook. I crochet. Valencia finally convinced me to take a yoga class with her. And I help her with those parties, when I've got the time. Sunday dinners with Hector's mom. The girl squad goes to see movies sometimes."
"Alright," Nathaniel cut her off, because he was growing increasingly worried she would never stop. "Okay. Well, I work out and I cook, and I visit my parents." He paused, but then that turned into something more than a pause. It ended up being the end of the list. "I went out to a gay bar with WhiJo," he said when it occurred to him. "A couple times."
He couldn't meet Heather's eyes, afraid to find pity in them, but when she talked she just sounded normal. "Sweet," she said. "Very open-minded of you."
"Well, it's fun," he said. "We dance or whatever. Eat onion rings."
"Oh my god, don't mention them. I'll want them immediately. My cravings are off the charts while it gets over this baby bullshit." She took an aggressive bite of another carrot. "Do you visit her?"
"What?"
"Rebecca," she said, and he felt faint. "She won't let any of us visit her. But you're her lawyer, you can go see her, right?"
Nathaniel's mouth was dry. "She doesn't want to see me," he said. "She said she needed time to think."
Heather nodded. "Are they keeping an eye on her?" she asked, with uncharacteristic concern. "Like, is she safe?"
"Yeah," Nathaniel said. He had to clear his throat. "Yeah, she's safe. I put money in her commissary. She's..."
After a second, Heather coughed, and then she sniffed. "Good," she said. "Great. I'm sorry, I just wanted to... I just wanted to know something."
"Of course."
"Let's finish season five," Heather said. "C'mon." And she led the way back to the couch.
"I'm having a few people over next weekend," she said at some point after that. “You can come if you want. It's like, appetizers and wine and hanging out. Your dad won't be there," she added, and he pretended that was funny.
"Sure," he said. "Can I bring anything?"
She shrugged. "Whatever you want. Just show up, really. WhiJo will be there, I know the two of you are tight."
"Right. Okay. Cool."
"And don't wear a suit," she said. "I guarantee the most dressed up anyone will be is like, khakis. At most. Or V will probably wear a really bitching dress. And her girlfriend will have an incredible blazer on."
He snorted. "You think about them a lot?"
"Yeah, I love love. Hector and me go on dates with them all the time. It's really upped my game. I mean, Beth is painfully honest even by my standards, and they really bring the best out of each other."
Neither of them said it, of course, but both of them were thinking about him and Rebecca. He couldn't exactly say he made her better, but she made him better without a doubt. She challenged him. "Well," he said after a second, and cleared his throat. "Good. Great. I'll be there."
Nathaniel got to Heather's early. Just a little early, like ten minutes. And Heather didn't seem to mind. "Hey," she said when she opened the door. "Those look good. What are they?"
"Mini fruit tarts."
"Nice. Thanks, bro." She put her hands on his shoulders and took him to the kitchen, where Hector was taking something out of the oven. "Bacon-wrapped dates," she said to Nathaniel.
"They look good, babe," Hector said with a smile. "Hey Nate."
Nathaniel looked at Heather. She actually smiled. "You're in my house," she said. "Those were the terms."
"Terms didn't include telling your boyfriend," Nathaniel informed her. Not that they were legally enforceable terms, but whatever.
Heather shrugged. "Sorry," Hector said. "I'll stop."
He didn't necessarily want Hector to stop. It was kind of growing on him. But whatever, he left it at that.
WhiJo showed up a little late, with Darryl in tow. They were kind of disgustingly cute even without the baby. Something about them made Nathaniel feel inadequate just looking at them. But he put on a fake smile when they saw him, and he was pleasant.
"Hey dude, didn't expect to see you here," WhiJo said. "You know Heath?"
"Yeah," Nathaniel nodded. "Yep, we... hang out. Sometimes."
WhiJo nodded. "Cool. How've you been?"
"Fine," Nathaniel said. "Work's been crazy, so."
"Yeah, I bet. Especially since you lost a case when your ex-girlfriend pled guilty to attempted murder," WhiJo said, and took a sip from his wine glass. Darryl turned very pink.
Nathaniel cleared his throat. "Right," he said.
"Sorry," WhiJo said.
"It's fine."
"What have you been up to?"
"Making less judgmental friends," Nathaniel said with what little dignity he had left, and walked away.
Valencia and her butch girl friend were on the other side of the room, so he went to them. V was indeed wearing an incredible, tasteful dress, and her girlfriend had a suit vest on that he would actually wear himself. "I don't believe we've met," he said to the girlfriend.
"Hi, I'm Beth," she said, and stuck her hand out for him to shake. She had a firm handshake. "You're one of Heather's friends?"
"Yeah," Nathaniel was kind of surprised to find. He looked at Valencia, who was smiling and trying to bite it back. "Nice to see you again," he said.
"You too," she said. "I didn't think you'd come. He's a little emotionally repressed," she added to Beth but the smile she gave him was warm.
"Got it," Beth nodded. "Well, glad you're here, man. So what do you do?"
"I'm a lawyer," he said. "So a lot of that. You two are in the event-planning industry?"
"Trying to be," Valencia said. "Finding clients is proving a little... difficult. You don't happen to know anyone who might need an event planned, do you," she said half-heartedly.
Actually, Nathaniel had a thought. "Well," he said.
"Seriously?" Valencia demanded.
"My mother plans a lot of get-togethers," he said defensively. "She probably uses planners, I could ask."
"Great," Beth said, squeezing Valencia's hand. "Thanks."
"I should've known," Valencia shook her head. "You come from money."
Nathaniel shrugged, kind of, and escaped that conversation too. He backed away from the living room, found himself going to the guest room and didn't stop himself. He'd have to go in there eventually, after all. So he might as well rip off the bandaid.
There was a figure sitting on the floor, against in the bed in the dark room. "Oh, pardon me," Nathaniel said, and turned to go back out.
"You too, huh." He knew that voice; it was Paula, sitting in Rebecca's old room. He didn't like Paula, as much as he was willing to. Though, what Heather had asked the other night was starting to get into his head and he was wondering if he didn't like her because he knew his father wouldn't.
"Me too?" he repeated.
"She'll be upset she missed you actually coming to a party," Paula said with a brave attempt at a smile. "Were you blackmailed?"
"No," he admitted. "No, I came of my own volition." He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed next to her. "Is everything alright?" he asked, after a moment.
Paula shrugged kinda, and sighed deeply. "It's... Heartbreaking,” she said. “I miss her, and I love her. And I want her to get better. I don’t know how many times I can get lied to, y’know?”
Nathaniel nodded, even though he wasn’t sure exactly if he knew. “Everyone has secrets,” he suggested. “I’m sure it wasn’t personal.”
“Personal was exactly what it was,” Paula said, her voice hardening. “She lied whenever I didn’t do something she wanted. That is personal. And I don’t love her any less, and I still want her to come home. But things need to change. So. I’m just going to sit in her room, and feel… whatever I’m feeling. And you’re welcome to do the same.” Paula dabbed at her eye with a tissue.
Nathaniel had the immediate urge to dismiss her and leave. He thought it was a sign of progress that he didn’t. And even more than that, he felt the urge to say something. Something nice.
It took a moment to think of it. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That sounds difficult.”
“What?” Paula demanded, sounding a little teary still. “Sympathy? Who are you and what have you done with my boss?”
“Funny,” he said sarcastically. “Alright.”
Paula kind of nudged his arm. “Hey,” she said. “I won’t tell anybody, but you’re a good kid.”
“Well, I’m an adult,” he said. “But thanks.”
“Sure you are.”
“I am!”
“Where’s Ruth Gator Ginsberg?” Paula demanded.
“I don’t know,” he lied. “Maybe she got released into the wild.”
Paula raised her eyebrows, but she didn’t call him out. “Okay,” she said. “You ready to head back out there?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Yes, I’m ready.”
“Me neither,” Paula sighed, and she got up and left.
Nathaniel stayed in there for just a few more seconds. He didn’t think Heather would mind.
Heather showed up at the office, as she was prone to doing. Previously, Nathaniel saw it as a time-wasting unprofessional diversion. Now, he thought it was still those things but he also didn’t try to make her leave. He watched her harass Paula from his office in glances, and got very little done on the brief he was working on.
He got an email, and his heart still gave a traitorous kick in his chest. Like it might be Rebecca somehow, even though she was in jail and sequestered from the internet. He’d saved all her old emails, a fact which he remembered at the most inconvenient times.
It was a Facebook notification. He’d been tagged in a post.
Someone knocked on his door and opened it before he could answer. It was Heather, of course. “Wow,” she said, deadpan. “The suit, the desk. It’s a whole look. And honestly you’re pulling it off.”
Nathaniel felt his face flush. He adjusted his tie. “You don’t work here,” he said.
“Well, that’s a fun fact,” Heather said. “Chill, I want to talk to you a second.”
That flustered him. “Sixty seconds,” he said. “Max.” And he got up, took his blazer off, and got on his treadmill desk.
He was barely up to a brisk walk when Heather came over and hit pause. “You can run your anxiety off when I’m not here,” she said. “It freaks me out.”
"I'm not anxious," he said defensively.
"Right. So we're going to see the Fast and the Furious movie tonight and that seemed like the kind of thing you'd be into. You want to come?"
"Is it the kind of thing you're into?" he asked in bewilderment.
Heather shrugs. "Paula's really into cars, and I'd watch the Rock do just about anything. Valencia and Beth are coming. Is that a yes?"
It almost was. "I have plans with my parents," Nathaniel said. "Dinner."
"Bummer," Heather said. "Have fun."
He wouldn’t. But it was nice of her to say that. “You too,” he agreed. He was almost sorry to see her go.
The Facebook notification was someone from college, tagging him in a memory. A study party from back in the day, with a dozen people including Mona.
He untagged himself, even though she’d probably read something into that. His father wouldn’t want to see it associated with their image.
Yo what up. His phone and laptop both chimed; he jumped. It was Heather, though. Just Heather. And she was typing again. Consider this a check in. How you doing?
Why do you ask? he responded when he decided he was suspicious of her question.
Heather was typing for a while, and in the meantime Nathaniel got on the treadmill and knocked out a series of 30-second sprints. And, when he was panting and a little calmer, he checked his phone again.
Friendship purposes. Is that acceptable to u?
He sighed at his screen. You couldn’t type out the word you?
Oh, grow up. What are you doing tonight?
Not sure…
If it’s not the gym, I’ll tag along.
Nathaniel wanted to be doing something fun for her to tag along to, but his plans had, in fact, been the gym. He considered a couple different strategies, like seeing if she’d come to the gym or taking her to that donut place everyone seemed to like so much. But he didn’t want to eat donuts or scare her off, so he suggested the only other thing he could think of.
“Where are we going?” Heather said flatly. “I get the whole mystery thing, okay, I appreciate it, but I also don’t know you very well and I feel like I’m gonna get crazy murdered.”
Nathaniel maintained his grip on the steering wheel and didn’t look at her. “I don’t want to say it out loud,” he said. And with his teeth clenched, he acknowledged to himself that his father had some hand in how he felt then.
“What’s our ETA?” she said.
“Like fifteen minutes. Just trust me,” he said, and when she did he found himself more at a loss than ever.
"Okay," Heather said. "But I'm only getting out if people are around."
Nathaniel found himself getting more nervous, the closer they got. He never brought anyone here with him. It didn't feel like a good date, and he didn't want to ruin his refuge just for a girl he'd probably break up with. But he didn't think he'd break up with Heather, especially because she wasn't dating him.
When they drove past the sign, Heather remained silent. It kind of made him more nervous. He was parking when she finally said, "Seriously?" He was considering how hard it would be to play this off as an elaborate joke when she added, "Awesome, I love the elephants. And tigers."
Nathaniel pressed his lips together tightly, managing a thin smile. He still felt self-conscious. This was a bad idea. "I have a pass," he said. "We can just walk around."
"Killer. I want a lemonade."
She got a lemonade, and they walked around. Nathaniel got to see the monkeys, and Heather spent several long minutes watching elephants slowly walk across their enclosure. They both watched the tigers prowl behind glass, and saw some new lemurs. They barely spoke the whole time, which was perfect, and they only headed for the door when the zoo was closing.
"Thank you," he said.
"Sure," she agreed. “This was fun.”
“Was it?”
“Hundo P. That means yes,” she added when he gave her a blank look. “Get with the slang, you aren’t older than me.”
“Aren’t I?”
“No. I’m twenty-seven.”
Nathaniel frowned. “I’m twenty-eight.”
“But spiritually,” Heather said with an air of finality.
“That’s not a real category,” he protested.
“Sure it is. I’m your peer, and your spiritual elder. Accept my wisdom.”
“Your wisdom is saying ’hundo P’?”
Heather rolled her eyes. “No, stupid, my wisdom is this: you’re great to hang out with. I like you. Okay? How does that sound.”
“You like me,” Nathaniel repeats.
“Yeah, is that like a new concept for you?” she said, but she answered for him too. “I know it is. That’s fine.”
“Plenty of people have liked me,” he sputtered. It was very obviously a lie.
“Maybe,” Heather said. “Still. Just thought I’d put it out there.”
He wasn’t fooled. She knew what she was saying. And when he dropped her off at her house, he didn’t leave as soon as he could. He waited, and in those seconds, Heather said, “You wanna come in or what?”
“I’ll come in,” he said. “Sure. Since we’re friends, I guess.”
Heather smiled at him for one genuine second before the snark was back. “Hey dude,” she said. “You said it.”