“Move your arm. No, the other one. Up and curve it...”
“Like this?”
In frustration, Kate let her camera go, let it hang around her neck. She stepped towards Nat, grabbing at her arm, moving it the way she wanted, before going back to the camera.
“Great, and now bend, curve your spine, almost like a ballet dancer.”
Click. Click. Click.
“No, further, make a real arch.”
Click. Click.
“Jesus, bend will you?”
Again she let the camera drop, again she positioned Nat like a mannequin, her hands sparking on warm skin, but her feelings were at the back of her mind. Involved now, she wanted only to recreate the pictures as she saw them in her mind.
“And you moved,” she said as she lifted the camera again.
Nat’s hands dropped to her side, she straightened up. She’d been silent, compliant, Kate had thought, but now she was looking irritated.
“Why the fuck do you want me here?” she asked.
Kate frowned, concentrating on changing a filter. “What?”
“You could have a damn doll here. You don’t need me.”
Now she did look up. Nat’s face looked like thunder, her cheeks reddening and her dark eyes flashing. “Huh?”
“Stop being so damn controlling. You wanted me here, so let me do my job. Make suggestions by all means, but don’t treat me like I’m some kid on school picture day. I don’t need moving around. I’ve been doing this a long time. Let me do my job!”
She almost snapped. She could feel the anger rising in her, could feel her response coming up and out of her mouth. Arrogant models thinking they knew everything, thinking... But then she remembered the last shoot. Remembered the picture with the scarf. Remembered Brooks telling her to give Nat her freedom. So she took a breath and blew it out.
“Of course.”
But Nat wasn’t done. “And just stop being so controlling in general. Lighten up. You’re not in the city. There’s nothing wrong with me touching your equipment cases. I wasn’t going to steal them.”
“I know that.”
“I was just trying to be helpful. You know what that means? Someone wanting to help you? Most people say thank you, not ‘be careful it’s expensive.’ Maybe you should give gratitude a try sometime.”
There was a heartbeat and somewhere something rustled in the undergrowth.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Just... Just try and trust me,” said Nat, her anger receding. “I’m not a kid, I’m not an idiot. I want this to go just as well as you do. Just... lighten up a bit. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Sun dappled through the trees creating moving patches of light that Nat danced between. They continued in near silence. It was easier, Kate thought, if she didn’t speak at all.
✽✽✽
It was approaching noon, the light growing whiter and brighter. Kate stripped off her shirt, sweat wicking into the material of her tank top.
“Almost there,” she said.
Nat lay, in white now after several costume changes, across the horizontal part of the tree. Her hair almost swept the leaves below her.
“Hold on, let me get higher. I want to get this from above if I can.”
Kate scrambled up the bank of the hollow, getting right to the rim. She was maybe six feet or so above Nat now, leaning down to capture her lying like Sleeping Beauty. Click, click went the camera.
“Beautiful, nice,” said Kate.
She was trying to be positive, trying not to criticize or control. And Nat was responding to it. She’d sunk into the natural flowing movements between poses, almost constantly moving so that Kate had to keep pressing the shutter button for fear of missing something amazing.
“Nice,” she said again, taking a step backward to get more perspective. “Just a few more, almost there.”
Nat was moving, her back was arching up, her hair descending to the ground. And as she arched Kate saw more than the pose. The movement was so overtly sexual, so intimate, that arching, that lifting of the chin, that it sent a shot of electricity running through her. Her finger still moved on the shutter button, but her legs were shaking all over again.
“That’s it,” she managed to call. “I think we’re done here.”
She straightened up, took a step back, and the world fell away from her.
It was a tangle of color and movement and pain, leaves and twigs and rocks flashing by in less than an instant. The only thing Kate could think about was the camera, clutching it close to herself, trying to protect it. There was nothing she could do. Gravity sucked her downwards as she screwed her eyes closed. Panic rose up in her throat, but no sound would come out. She seemed to move faster and faster and she tried desperately to remember what was at the bottom of the bank but for the life of her, she couldn’t. And that seemed ridiculous to her, she remembered thinking that she’d known these woods like the back of her hand since she was old enough to walk. And then she seemed to fly, to feel weightless for a quick moment of heart-lifting freedom. Then she landed. Water splashed up into the air, ejected by the force of her body hitting the surface of the creek. The breath was knocked out of her and she felt suddenly empty then terror-stricken as she gasped for breath that wouldn’t come.
“Kate! Kate! Oh, Jesus, God, Kate!”
If she hadn’t been breathless, if she hadn’t been gasping and clawing to get oxygen into her lungs, it might have been almost funny.
“Kate! Jesus! Kate!”
The scrambling and rustling and sound of sliding, the swearing and panting and cries of her name, and then Nat, face pale and sweating, curls of hair stuck to her forehead, a smear of dirt across the side of her beautiful face.
“Jesus Kate, you scared the living hell out of me.”
And the weight lifted, the darkness that was descending started to gradually lighten, and she managed to get a mouthful of air, and then another and another.
“Camera,” was the first word she said.
Nat’s hands picked the camera up, gently untangled the strap from around her neck.
“It looks fine,” she said, carefully putting it down. “Better than you do at any rate. Come on, let’s get you up. Can you walk?”
Kate tried to nod but couldn’t, so she held her hand up and Nat took it. Between them both they got her standing. She was shaky on her feet but mobile.
“Think you can make it back to the cabin?” asked Nat, her face concerned.
“Yeah.”
But every particle of her was hurting, even her insides seemed shaken up and bruised. And when Nat put an arm around her shoulders, steadying her and warming her at the same time, she didn’t object. For once she just let herself be helped, reveling in the warmness and closeness. Her stomach jolted, her heart raced, but she let it happen. Just this once, she told herself. Just for right now. Just let me enjoy this one tiny part of goodness in an otherwise shitty event. Nat squeezed her closer as they stumbled together towards the path to the cabin. I’ll never let her touch me like this again, Kate vowed. Not after this time. But let me have just this one freebie. I need it.
✽✽✽
“Where’s the vodka?”
The question came as soon as the cabin door was open and Kate pulled herself away from Nat’s arm. Seriously? That was her answer to this? She wanted a drink?
“Did you pour it away?” asked Nat, her eyes liquidy and soft with need. “Or is it still here?”
“I fall down a cliff and you want a drink?” Kate said, voice dripping and anger rising. “So much for not being an addict.”
“I–”
“No, don’t make excuses to me. If that’s your only reaction then screw it. Have your damn drink. I’m too wet and cold and hurt to babysit an idiot. It’s in the bathroom.”
Nat stared at her but said nothing. Then she simply turned away and went to the bathroom. So much for a connection, Kate thought bitterly. So much for making a differen
ce, for getting through to her. So much for... for anything else. She was shaking now from shock and cold. Quickly she peeled off her wet clothes, dragging a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from her backpack and hearing the sounds of searching from the bathroom.
She crawled onto the couch, wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. She should have known better. Nat had been charming, nice, lovely even. But it was all a ploy. It was just a way to placate her so that she’d give a good report back to Brooks. Only the accident had been enough to break her fragile will power. And now she needed a drink. At least something good had come from falling, at least she could see the true Nat. At least she didn’t need to pretend...
Nat reappeared, bottle in hand and silently went to the kitchen. Kate could hear her pouring the liquor. She closed her eyes.
“Here.”
When she opened them again, Nat was standing in front of her, a single glass in her hand.
“Here,” she said again.
“What?”
“The drink,” said Nat quietly. “It’s for you. It’ll warm you. And alcohol’s good for shock. Take it.”
When Kate didn’t move, Nat put the glass on the coffee table and sat down on the other end of the couch. It was a long minute, a regretful and uncomfortable minute, before Kate picked the drink up. The first taste burned in her mouth and warmed all the way down.
“I’m sorry.”
Nat rubbed at her face, smearing eyeliner and mascara just enough to give her eyes a smoky look. “I know.”
“No, you don’t. I’m really sorry. Truly. I jumped to conclusions and now I feel like an idiot. Particularly after you helped me.”
There was a sigh.
“I feel like you’ve pre-judged me,” said Nat. “Like you feel like you know me even though you don’t. You just seem to have this idea of what I am and how I’m supposed to behave. And you base your responses, your behavior, off these ideas. I don’t think it’s very fair.”
“It’s not,” said Kate, putting the glass down again and trying not to betray the anxiety she felt at Nat coming so close to the truth.
“We’ve talked about me,” said Nat. “About how I’m supposed to be arrogant and spoiled and all that other stuff. But we haven’t talked about you. So I’m just going to go ahead and say it. Kate, you’re controlling. I guess you think that doing things yourself is easier. But you don’t see the effect it has on other people. You make others feel useless, unwanted, unnecessary. You make me feel like I’m a little kid.”
Kate bit her lip. “Okay. I understand.”
“Why are you like this? Why is it so difficult for you to let go? To let someone else help you? Or even to listen to them?”
There wasn’t a hint of criticism in her voice. She sounded honestly curious. Which was maybe why Kate’s defenses dropped for just a moment, just long enough to tell the truth. Maybe too much of the truth.
“My grandfather,” she said. “It was him, I think. Not in a bad way. He was lovely. Kind, generous. But he always taught me to rely on myself. He always said that there’s no one you can trust as much as yourself, so why would you? I think maybe that’s where it comes from. That idea that to be strong I have to accomplish everything alone...”
She trailed off, sensing something. The air had changed, the feeling inside the cabin had changed. Goosebumps prickled on her arms. She glanced over at Nat and saw that her eyes were narrowing, that her mind was turning, that something was happening and she didn’t know what. She didn’t understand at all. Until Nat spoke.
“Don’t I know you?”
Kate forced herself to laugh. “I should hope so by now.”
But Nat wasn’t laughing. “That’s not what I meant. I meant don’t I know you, like outside of all this? Haven’t I met you before?”
And Kate’s heart stopped.
Chapter Eight
Panic set in. Her vision started to cloud, her face started to blush, her breath started to come faster. And she said the first thing that came out of her mouth.
“No, of course not.”
She said it with certainty. Nat hadn’t recognized her thus far, why would she now? But Nat was still staring at her, mind still turning.
“Kate. Katie. Katie... what was it? Steinman? Stein something...”
“Steinhauser.”
The game was up.
“Steinhauser. That’s it. I would never have recognized you. I didn’t recognize you.” And Nat’s face looked almost joyful. “If you hadn’t fallen in that creek. It’s your hair. Now that it’s wet and all sleeked back, I can see it. Little Katie Steinhauser. Your grandfather, that’s what sealed it for me. I remember that. Remember that you lived with him. Katie...”
She trailed off. Kate stared at her, waiting for her to cotton on, waiting for the pieces to click into place. She was afraid and didn’t really know why. There was nothing Nat could do to her now. They were both adults. The shame of being caught lying was part of it, but there was more than that.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Nat asked.
Screw it. Kate picked up her glass and downed the rest of the drink. She needed a drink for this. The bottle was still sitting in the kitchen and she got up to get it, moving in silence, Nat watching her. As an afterthought she bought a second glass. Probably they both needed a drink. Not to get drunk, just to smooth things along. Screw Brooks Lyon and his babysitting job. Some things were more important.
“You must have recognized me,” Nat said when Kate came back to the couch.
“Natalie Bingham. How could I forget?”
Nat smiled just a little. “There’s a name I haven’t heard for a long time. What was it, sixth grade? Oakton Middle, right?”
“Seventh too,” Kate said, pushing a half-full glass towards Nat and picking up her own.
Nat ignored the glass. “So you knew, of course you knew. Why didn’t you say anything? Remind me or something. Jesus, Kate, you’ve changed so much. You should have said.”
And the dam broke.
“Why?” Kate said, and she could hear the bitterness in her own voice and hated herself for it. “Why should I have said something? So you could make my life a living hell again? So you could diss me to the popular kids? So you could pull my hair and rip my shirt and tell me how bad I smelled?”
The words sounded so stupid, so infantile. The actions she described did nothing to show the feelings they’d evoked, nothing to describe her pain. And Nat was turning pale, her olive skin going yellow.
“That was a million years ago,” she said.
“So? So what? You ruined my life. You stripped away every ounce of confidence I had. You left me a miserable shell of a little girl. I should just forget all about it, should I? And why? So that you could be popular. So that the other girls would like you more? You climbed me to the top of the social pyramid. You stomped me down flat so that you could be more popular than me. But there was no reason for it. You were the pretty one, everyone loved you already. You didn’t have to hurt me to make them like you. You didn’t...”
Her breath was coming in hiccups and she stopped speaking, not wanting to show the weakness, drinking instead.
“Jesus Christ, Kate. I, uh, I don’t know what to say.”
Finally, Nat picked up her glass, sipping at it, grimacing at the acrid taste of it.
“This would be better with ice,” she said.
Just like that, with that touch of normalcy, Kate’s anger fled. She was simply confused now, confused and sad and hurt and a million other things.
“I was just a little kid,” Kate said, knowing she sounded pitiful. “A little kid with no parents, no money, my grandfather doing the best he could to raise me. And I was happy. Happy until you and your friends started pointing out all the things wrong with me. Until you held a mirror up to me and made me see how pathetic I was. And then you broke me.”
There was a long silence. Long enough for Kate to take two more swallows of her drink and feel them burning all the way down, t
he alcohol stretching out to her fingers and toes, creeping through her veins.
“I’m sorry.”
Kate said nothing.
“I know it doesn’t fix anything. I know it doesn’t help anything. But I’m so, so sorry. From the bottom of my heart, with everything I have, I’m sorry Kate.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“But it still matters, doesn’t it? It still hurts you. I still hurt you. And I don’t even know how to begin. I’m not a bad person Kate. I can see why you’d think that, I can see why you’ve judged me already. But I’m not a bad person. I wasn’t a bad kid. I was just... confused, I guess.”
Kate snorted. “Seriously? You think I should feel sorry for you?”
Nat picked up her glass again. “Maybe,” she said. “Maybe there are things you don’t understand either. I’m not looking for excuses. I’m just saying that everyone’s fighting their own battles, ones you don’t know about. There were reasons I acted as I did. Not good ones. But reasons. And what twelve year old ever has good reasons for anything? At the time it was... important, I suppose.”
“What?” asked Kate. “What reasons could you possibly have had? Huh? Why was your life so tough? You lived in a big house, obviously had plenty of money, had plenty of friends. What was so bad that you had to take it out on me?”
Nat swirled her glass in her hand. “I’ve not thought about it,” she said, carefully. “My parents sent me to boarding school after seventh grade. I tried to put everything behind, to start again, to ignore everything. I haven’t thought about this for years. I was... lonely, I guess.”
“You? Lonely?”
“You can laugh,” Nat said. “But I bet you that even with no parents your home life was a hell of a lot happier than mine. You at least had a grandfather that loved you.”
Even her tone sounded lonely. She wasn’t lying. For some reason, Kate had a sense for Nat’s lies and truth. And this was a truth. She’d never thought of Nat as anything other than a bully, never considered that perhaps she could be a victim in her own way. But of course she was. Kids didn’t act that way out of badness, they learned badness, experienced it themselves, or acted out. She felt a pricking of her conscience at this, and also a curiosity. She wanted to know why, wanted to understand. Perhaps then she could finally put all this behind her.
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