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anthropologicalhands · 4 years ago

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r/n - i've been working on my backwards walk / there's nowhere else for me to go / except back to you just one last time / say yes before i change my mind

As Rebecca tries to be sanguine about nearing forty, seeing it as a peak rather than a slide into decay (a Naomi-fostered distortion that has proven remarkably difficult to shake), one thing that has comforted Rebecca over the last decade is that with experience, she’s learned how to handle all matter of situations with grace, simply because she’s seen them before.

Revisiting this particular situation, however, is not what she expected.

It starts with an invitation delivered to Rebecca’s house to Hebby’s fifth grade graduation. There wouldn’t be anything strange about such a thing, even after she gets over the orange-and-turquoise astronaut theme (Hebby was going through a bit of a NASA phase), were it not for the fact the invitation was also addressed to Nathaniel.

Rebecca and Nathaniel, specifically.

Still frowning and trying to ignore the weird ringing that just went through her head at the jolt of seeing hers and Nathaniel’s names juxtaposed across a piece of lurid cardstock—like they’re a unit, or something—Rebecca credits herself with just pulling her phone out and calling Darryl directly instead of diving headfirst into a panic spiral.

“Rebecca!” Darryl’s voice booms from the other end of the line, and Rebecca can’t help the reflexive grin—Darryl’s unflagging enthusiasm while raising four daughters remains nothing short than a scientific marvel. “What a surprise. How is my favorite pretzel singer?”

“Hey, Darryl. Quick question for you. I got your card—”

“Isn’t it great? Hebby picked out the colors specially.”

“I’ll bet she did. But that’s not why I was calling, actually. I was wondering if, perchance, you might have had a shortage of such eye-popping invitations?”

“What do you mean?”

“My invitation was addressed to me and Nathaniel, which, I can definitely send him the deets, no problem, but wouldn’t an email be easier?”

“Oh?” She can hear Darryl’s mustache frown from the other end of the phone. “You mean you and Nathaniel aren’t…”

“Well, he doesn’t live here,” snaps Rebecca, a little flustered. “Why would you think that? Why did you think—did he—”

“Hang on,” says Darryl, and she can hear him calling for April, leaving her stuttered rejection hanging.

Are her and Nathaniel—

How is that even a question anymore?

It’s been a decade, and everyone involved with that event has definitively moved forward with their lives. Her and Josh were a definitive ‘no’ from that fateful Valentine’s Day onwards, remaining dear friends instead, and she was very much the ‘cool aunt’ among his own children. Her and Greg had wavered briefly for a bit afterwards, ran into some seriously uncomfortable friction, and it took them the better part of two years to find a good balance. It probably helped that she accidentally connected him to the woman who would become his wife, but that was a story for another day.

And it was a similar story with Nathaniel. He went to Guatemala for two years, came back and split his time between helping at MountainTop and working with some volunteer legal capacity with the local zoos and her and him—

Ah. Well.

Okay, so it wasn’t quite as clearly defined with Nathaniel, beyond the general fact that she wanted him to be happy, and he wanted her to be happy, and generally their relationship since his return had been checking in on each other, making fun of their weird hobbies and still showing up to events that were important to each other. It was all very adult and friendly and open. Their friendship had appropriate limits and boundaries and they supported each other in the respective relationships they had tried over the years, and it was very platonic…

Well. Except when it wasn’t. There hadn’t been a repeat of the Mona incident ever, and Rebecca could honestly say that she really liked a couple of the long-term girlfriends he’d introduced to them since then, and was genuinely regretful when those relationships ended. Especially for Sylvia, the LA Zoo curator who had to move for her career. Not that the regret wasn’t complicated by other factors, like when Nathaniel had admitted privately to Rebecca later that as much as he liked Sylvia, he just couldn’t see himself leaving California again.

She didn’t get butterflies at that, exactly, because but there had been a comfort in knowing that Nathaniel was content to remain in her orbit.

Again, not entirely uncomplicated. But it was nothing beyond the usual messy spectrum of human emotion internally, and never acted on externally.

She’s dated on and off as suited her libido and her schedule and her desire to find a life partner. She’s had relationships that got serious enough to talk about the future on and off, but they’ve all ended too for reasons inherent to those dynamics themselves. Nathaniel had been a good friend while they were going on, and a shoulder to cry on after, and well, okay, they might have fallen back into bed together a few times over the years, but they never pretended that it was either more than it was or that it was some forbidden thing that wouldn’t happen again. It was what it was.

Well. And they hung out, sometimes. And occasionally were each other’s plus-ones to public events. And friends’ weddings. And quite possibly—

Hm.

It really, really doesn’t help her case that she’s going to see him tonight, either.

“Rebecca?” Darryl tears her out of her thoughts. “Sorry about that! I think there was just a mistake at the stationary shop and they put your cards in together. What are the odds? I might need to call the other parents on the list, just to make sure that they got theirs all right. Could you take that one to Nathaniel? I don’t know if it’s out of your way—”

“Not at all!” says Rebecca, smiling with all of her teeth even though Darryl can’t see her, her cheeks aching. “Not even remotely.”

“Good,” says Darryl, and she can hear him beaming from the other side of the line.

“So, a funny thing happened on the way to your apartment…”

“That’s ominous,” comments Nathaniel, taking the bag of groceries she shoves at him without complaint as he closes the door behind her. Rebecca kicks off her shoes and toes them out of the walkway, abiding by Nathaniel’s still oft-repeated entreaties to not leave her personal belongings strewn entirely across his apartment.

“It’s not ominous so much as luminous,” says Rebecca, reaching into her purse and withdrawing Hebby’s invitation with a little flourish of the wrist. “Well, fluorescent.”

“Oh my god.”

Nathaniel accepts the card and flicks it open, scanning through the cheerful, only slightly grammatically incorrect message, and cannot quite suppress an amused huff of laughter. Rebecca hides her own smile as she turns away to set her purse on the very useful hook Nathaniel installed for her own use. Like herself, Nathaniel has a soft spot for Hebby, despite his continued awkwardness around children.

“Right? She gets that from Darryl for sure.”

“I don’t know, I remember someone showing up in some pink and purple eyesore into a law firm the very first day I met her.”

“You just didn’t know fun when you saw it,” says Rebecca instead, perching on the edge of the couch. “But it was funny. I was worried for a second that he thought that we were a couple or something. How weird is that?”

She is completely, totally casual in her delivery of that line, she knows. A decade in community theater and singing gigs have certainly finetuned her ability to turn a phrase, if nothing else. But something must be slightly offkey, because Nathaniel snaps up from marveling at the card to eye her suspiciously.

“Very weird,” he says, after a slightly-too-long pause. “Do we seem like a couple? Why would we seem like a couple when we aren’t a couple?”

“That’s exactly what I thought!” She punches him companionably on the arm; apparently too hard, if the way he winces and rubs at his bicep is any consideration.

(She’s been taking workout classes with Valencia—she deserves something for all that pain.)

“But it’s probably nothing,” she adds, determined to address this weird little misstep directly, because they are both too old to be having any kinds of weird misunderstandings anymore. “We’re close. We have our own rhythm, our own special two step. No wonder Darryl got confused.”

“He’s getting old,” says Nathaniel.

“Dude, c’mon.”

“What? It’s true.”

“What about you, Mister Gray?” Rebecca challenges. Nathaniel pulls a face in response, clearly fighting the urge to brush his hand through the aforementioned silvering at his temples.

(He wasn’t quite vain enough to dye his hair yet, though Rebecca credits his restraint to the fact that she would never let him hear the end of it.)

“It’s just a couple of hairs,” he says inconsequentially, as though it hasn’t been long established that between the two of them, he’s the one with the greater fear of aging, and therefore in far more danger of aging gracelessly.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Rebecca hops off the couch and grabs him by the elbow. “Now c’mon, let’s make sure make these sweet potatoes are not oh-sweet-pies-don’t!”

Heading over to Nathaniel’s place had left Rebecca feeling on edge, not quite sure how to process the idea of someone, anyone, considering her and Nathaniel as a potential couple this late in the game.

Nothing is more grounding, however, than seeing Nathaniel being clearly so off kilter, missing steps in what should be a well-worn dance of theirs by now. Dancing has always been their thing—where they once threw each other off at every possible moment, shaking up their convictions about life and happiness and how that concept could exist within their previously compartmentalized existences. Now, they were familiar with each other. Comfortable. Predictable.

They knew each other’s moves now, which means that she could see Nathaniel’s as clear as water.

He’s unfocused during dinner, a little erratic in his answers, jittery, as if he’s had too much coffee. It’s putting her off her rhythm, and while she knows that not everything in life needs to be a big song and dance production, there does need to be some kind of continuity.

This evening was supposed to be easygoing and relaxing. And, yes, probably beneficial in that very particular friends-with-benefits way. But since that clearly wasn’t going to happen, they needed to execute a sharp left turn and get this all settled.

“Nathaniel?” she repeats, for the third time.

“Hm?”

“Are you getting hard of hearing in your old age?” He scowls deeply at her in response. “Yeah, yeah, I had to ask. So, what’s bugging you?”

He’s silent for a long minute. “Just something ridiculous.”

“Yeah?”

He shakes his head. “We don’t need to go through it again. It’s just spinning in circles around the same old subject.”

“Try a jazz square then.”

That startles a laugh out of him, much to Rebecca’s satisfaction. Good to know that she still has some capacity for surprise with him. She continues, “You know that move, right? Don’t tell me you forgot about Connie.”

“Are you kidding? I still have nightmares about her scarf strangling me to death.”

“Dark.”

“She was terrifying.”

“Yeah.” They sit in companionable silence. Then Nathaniel sighs.

“Sorry I’m being weird. I just…hearing that from you, I always thought it would just be a good laugh. You know, ridiculous to even think about romance again. But it made me feel weird instead, so now I’m acting slightly weird.”

“I wouldn’t say slightly,” teases Rebecca, unable to resist. Nathaniel doesn’t return her smile.

“Rebecca, I like where we are. I like that our relationship isn’t a big production anymore.”

“Don’t get me wrong—I love drama on the stage, but that’s definitely where it should stay.” She drums her fingers on her thigh, subconsciously tapping out a tune that’s been giving her trouble these last few weeks. “We can learn new steps, you know. Old dogs, new tricks? That doesn’t only apply to the bedroom.”

Nathaniel (again, predictably) groans.

“Aren’t you getting too old to have such a dirty mind?” But he’s smiling, now.

“Nah. I fully intend to be a filthy old woman. But seriously,” she adds, moving to sit besides him on the couch. “If just the thought of other people thinking that we’re a couple again is enough to send us both off balance, we need to center ourselves. Maybe it’s something worth talking about. What do you say?”

She reaches out and grabs his hand, and starts to tap a rhythm against his large palm—one of the first she ever composed, the first one her friends ever danced to. After a moment, he taps back, completing it.

“Yes.”

#writing meme reply #rebecca x nathaniel #crazy ex girlfriend #ellie writes fic #I'm not sure how happy i am with the denouement of this one #and it spun away a bit from the prompt #but i like enough of it #it's been forever since i've written fic #notbang

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