Leanne Davis - Natalie (Daughters Series #2)

by Natalie (Daughters Series #2)

  All the while, I started what I call my crash–course in behaving as if I were born to wealth and privilege. I tried to smooth out all my rough edges.

  I became brilliant at it. Except for one thing: I was soon married to the roughest, least smooth and anti–privileged woman I knew. When Jayden met Natalie, he told me quite pointedly I needed to ditch the foul–talking, crass wife, and I quote him: “destined to become a spokeswoman for blue–collar workers everywhere.” And yeah, Natalie was kind of like that. She supported unions and fought for the people who worked in manufacturing jobs. She couldn’t have cared less about hanging around the upper executives who ran them. She never met one she wanted to impress. Me included. But she especially didn’t care to impress my boss, and my friend, Jayden Hall.

  Jayden was equally opposed to her. From the very first dinner we all shared together, those two hated each other, like rabid dogs fighting over the same piece of meat. The meat, of course, was me in that scenario. Natalie wanted me to remain humble, caring about people in general, not just for profit. Jayden, meanwhile, wanted me to drop the hindrance he called “Natalie.” She was, too. She was a total hindrance.

  But I swear, I never cared. I think that’s why I loved her so much and what attracted me to her. Her moral compass points true north, no matter what, all the time, regardless of the situation, or the people she is with. Whether addressing the local garbage man, or the President of the United States, Natalie would act the same with either person. Status, money, and all the other symbols of success to which I measured myself and my life meant nothing to her. They were just silly little symbols. The house we shared? She always resisted it, hating it from the start. Nothing and no one could sway Natalie from being who she was and doing what she thought was right. Me? Not so much. I often tend to waffle. I conform. I can be the good, old, white boy at those snobby country clubs one evening, and hanging with my brother, old friends, and Natalie at some little hole–in–the–wall dive bar the next. I enjoy both worlds.

  Jayden spent a lot of time trying to discourage me from pursuing Natalie. I finally put my fist in his gut, and thought he’d fire me on the spot. Instead, to my surprise, he slapped me on the back of my shoulder in a good–natured man–bump. “Fine. Fine, you win. Natalie it is.”

  And so it was. It was always Natalie. I was deeply in love with her and I think it might have happened when we were still kids. There was never anyone else, no other girl, teenager, and later woman could have ever touched my heart, my soul and my brain like Natalie. The others were all fun, but no more than easy distractions from the school work I took too seriously, or later, my job, where I worked too many hours. But Natalie? She fully engaged me. Always did. My heart, mind, soul and body. She had me captivated from the very beginning.

  What happened then?

  Life happened. Now as I sit staring down at the wood floors of my too expensive house, I realize I let life happen more than I let us happen.

  I’m thirsty now. Food makes my stomach queasy. My eyes feel full of sand. I’m sure my breath is as sour and foul as it tastes. Dustin says to me, “Tell me from the beginning, how did you come to do this?”

  As I begin to tell Dustin what I did, all the while, my mind is far away. I am remembering different times, better times, especially the first time Natalie and I ever knew there was something more between us. It’s as if I can’t stay focused on what my mouth is saying because it means I have to admit in my heart what I actually did.

  ****

  The summer we first got together was when I came home from college. Before I even arrived however, I ran into a girl I vaguely remembered. Her name was Jennifer something. I can’t recall it now. She batted her big eyes, and giggled a lot. When I asked her to come over and catch–up, it quickly became a kissing scene on the couch. She was blonde and pert, my favorite type of girlie–girl, and she smelled good. My parents weren’t expected home until dinner. I had no idea where Dustin was. But the damn front door burst open and there she was.

  That annoying, pesky, tomboy, neighbor girl. There was Natalie, scowling at me and nearly snarling at the girl. Jennifer kind of cowered and backed down in embarrassment. Natalie’s look was so mean. I glared at her and she swiftly retreated into my brother’s room. I was a little surprised she left without much more of a fuss.

  Well, imagine how quickly that threw a huge wrench of unsexy into our catch–up session! Jennifer only stayed a few more minutes, which were filled with awkwardness. I shut the door after her, running my hands through my hair and seething at my little brother’s stupid tag–a–long.

  I came out eventually when my parents get home. Full of smiles and hugs, Mom cried how happy she was to see me. The last time I was home, I only spent three days there at Christmas. I was too busy. I had friends, parties, and dates to escort.

  But now I had the summer off before returning for my MBA. A summer to take a break, party, and relax before my real life began. Even though I really didn’t want to hang around the old, broken, rundown neighborhood, at that point, I didn’t have any money. I did have a shit–brick of college loans and ambitions, and that’s all I had.

  When my brother’s door opened, Natalie came out. She felt more comfortable in my apartment and being around my parents than I did. I felt awkward, and out of place. Sort of like I touched the sun and now was relegated to living back on the dark side of the moon as some kind of punishment.

  Natalie, meanwhile, was invited to dinner the very night I was back. I held in the groan. As long as I was there, I wanted to enjoy my family. Without her. I did not want to share my time with my old kickball and jogging partner.

  I glared at her again. Now twenty, and out of high school, she hadn’t changed much. Always with the thick ponytail of dark hair, she was just lucky to be so naturally pretty. She never wore a speck of makeup or hair products. I’d have been shocked to see her put a comb near that thick, frizzy mat of hair she had. Her huge, dark eyes and smooth, brown skin enhanced her tall, thin, muscled body. Her biceps were more cut than mine.

  I didn’t see her last Christmas. She had changed somehow since last I saw her. I didn’t know if it was just female maturity or what, but there was definitely something more startling about her face. That evening, we all stayed up late. My parents listened to me talk about school with rapt attention. Dustin too. Natalie stayed, and I remember thinking how badly I wanted her to go home so I could relax and just be with my family. After all, it didn’t happen very often.

  My parents soon grew tired and went off to bed. It was just the three of us and we soon became quiet. Dustin started to doze and shuffled off to his room sometime around midnight, leaving only Natalie and me. We were watching the late night comedy show, but hardly a laugh did either of us utter at the comedian’s monologue. She finally glanced over at me and said, “They really miss you.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” I replied, my tone laced with grumpy guilt. I knew that. I was too busy to bother to come home before. True. They understood that and forgave me. Now this rug-rat neighbor girl thought she could give me crap over it?

  “Why didn’t you come home?”

  “I was busy. College isn’t exactly like high school. Not that you’d know.”

  She didn’t get offended. “No, God willing. They talk about you all the time. They are so proud of you. And yet, you’re too busy to come home and appreciate that? Must be nice.”

  “Why do you care how often I see my parents?”

  “Because it’s just so stupid. What happened to coming home for a weekend here or there? You couldn’t spare them that?”

  I shifted around. Her criticism might have struck a little close to home. “No, I couldn’t.”

  She turned her head and her eyes were filled with hate as she pinned me with her glare. “You are so selfish. You take them so much for granted.”

  “Yeah?” I remember fisting my hands. “And who, at age twenty–three, doesn’t?”

  “Those of us who are about to
lose them, I guess!” she snapped.

  I remember the rush of air escaping my mouth, almost like she had shoved her fist into my gut. She turned and bent at her waist before burying her face in her hands. She didn’t make another sound. Her hair was in a ponytail that fell to the side over her shoulder, totally obscuring her face from me. I sat there, stunned, and eventually moved closer.

  “Nat? Natalie? What is it? What’s happening?”

  She shook her head. She was staring down at her feet. I leaned forward so my hands could clasp her shoulders. For such a fit girl, she had narrow shoulders. She refused to lift her face and tried to push my hands away. She was so damn stubborn even then. She never shared her feelings. She was worse than any guy I knew. Especially if it were sad news. When she felt hurt, she always reacted with anger. It was the first time I truly understood that about her.

  “Come on. I know you’re crying. What the hell is going on? You have to tell me.”

  “Why do you even care? You leave without a backward glance towards those of us who might tarnish the new, shiny Sam Ford.”

  She always had me so damned pegged. And being like I was didn’t live up to her ideals. “That’s not true,” I lied. Even if it shamed me to hear it stated so blatantly out in the open.

  “You used to be my friend,” she muttered.

  “I’m still your friend. I’ve just been away at college. You’re overreacting way too much over that fact.” But nothing. Finally, I realized I had to goad her. I sighed. “Come on, why are you crying like such a girl on my couch? Are you on the rag? Did your boyfriend break up with you?”

  She was too quick to respond. Turning in a flash, this time, she really socked me in the stomach before I could defend myself. I let out a surprised oof! Damn, the girl had some strength, no denying that.

  “I do not cry like a girl!” she protested through gritted teeth.

  She moved and was no longer in the protective position. I could tell her face was damp with tears. I was stunned. I’d never once seen her cry. Sure, I’d seen her turn three shades of red and go after more than one dude, and once even after a girl with her fists when she got upset or mad. But crying? Never. I sat back almost as if we’d exchanged an electric shock. Natalie crying like a girl? For real? I was almost speechless. She ducked her head down again and started shaking it.

  “Come on, Natalie. What is it? What’s wrong? I was just teasing you. What’s going on?”

  “You really don’t talk to anyone, do you?” Her voice was muffled by her sweatshirt sleeve, which she tucked her face into.

  “I—I have no idea.” I guess I thought I did. But I knew of no reason why that could make Natalie cry. Had anyone mentioned her to me in a year? I didn’t think so.

  “Did you know I’m going to be a cop?”

  “No.” I didn’t know why that would make her cry either. It fit though. I could picture her long legs running through the field, or down the street with swift speed and accuracy along with all her other efficient skills. I could picture her smart mouth and attitude, going up against any number of opponents over the years. She could trash talk any NFL football player into shame. So yeah, it fit. “That’s the perfect career for you.”

  “You didn’t hear about the hold–up, then?”

  “Like, a for real hold–up?”

  “For real. It happened a few weeks ago. Gun and all. I hated feeling helpless, and knowing the criminal had us all at his mercy. There I was, unarmed, and without any training. It frustrated me that I was unable to do anything.”

  Knowing Natalie since her youth, I was well enough acquainted to realize that would’ve been the catalyst that pushed her forward. I could totally see her devoting an entire career to making her feel stronger and more powerful. Sure, helping people and all that too. I swiftly realized this was the essence of my tomboy friend. She was cursed with being female, which she considered physically weaker than males and something she constantly railed against. She couldn’t tolerate feeling helpless, vulnerable or weak. So yeah, I clearly saw it. A cop. She would have the gun, training, authority and power. She wouldn’t be the victim anymore, or the weak link. She would be part of the solution. That all made sense to me. What didn’t make sense was why Natalie started crying about it that night.

  “No more losing again to some guy ‘cause he’s bigger, right?” She lifted her face to catch my eye. There was something in it. An understanding seemed to ripple between us. She nodded.

  “You remember that about me.”

  “I remember.” Her eyes shone with tears, changing everything all at once between us. I stared at her. My heart suddenly beat faster and harder in my chest. My hand reached forward to touch her thick knot of hair and push it back. The gesture was an old one. When she was eleven, twelve, and thirteen, I’d often tug her ponytail just to annoy her. As she got older, it became a tug of brotherly affection. Her head turned a fraction of an inch toward my hand. Natalie was acquiescing to me. Remembering.

  Tears started tracking lines down her cheeks. Her nose flared as she took in a breath, still holding my gaze captive. “Mom—”

  She swallowed. I knew then by her hesitation it was bad. Like, death kind of bad. Natalie was a flaming firecracker. She didn’t stall or hesitate, even when she was wrong, she always charged full steam ahead with it.

  “I didn’t know,” I whispered. I instantly lost the ability to be cavalier, or share our normal banter. The thing with her was, we always interacted like two dudes in a locker room, throwing shit and trash at each other to show our affection; but also to convince each other that we weren’t too crazy about the other.

  “I haven’t told anyone.”

  I didn’t point out since no one else knew, they could not have told me. Therefore, my lack of interest in my own family couldn’t have been the source of her anger now. But now I see clearly, this was the only way Natalie could allow herself to be vulnerable long enough to let something be wrong, when she shared it with another. This was Natalie having a heart–to–heart with me. And I starkly understood the weight of that gesture: she chose me. It meant something huge. It even suggested she had feelings for me. Finally, something beyond the locker–room dude smack we shared.

  I leaned forward then and took her hand in mine. She jerked up and started to withdraw it. I tugged her forward so she was next to me and leaning into my chest. I had to wrap both of my arms around her to hold her there. She resisted. She even pushed against me. The only thing I had on her was brute strength. A fact she still refuses to accept. “Stop. Just stop fighting me, Natalie.” I finally kind of shook her by holding her biceps in my hands as I pushed her back to stare into her face. “Please quit always fighting me. You don’t always have to push everyone away. You especially don’t have to be so tough with me.”

  She stared at me. The naked pain in her eyes was visible as her tears fell. She wiped her hand across her nose. No simpering. No gasping. She stared at me before offering a small, infinitesimal nod. I pulled her against me again. Minutes passed until she finally relaxed the rigidity of her body muscles. I was sure I’d never been this close to her for so long. Her hair sprouted up off her scalp and kept sticking to my lips. It smelled like shampoo. She was skinny and muscular and yet, there was something so feminine and lithe about her body pressed against mine. There was something so womanly. She most definitely wasn’t another dude on me.

  “What’s wrong with her?” I asked after almost fifteen minutes of us sitting there in the quiet of my parents’ apartment.

  “Stage four colon cancer.” Her voice was crisp and clear, but very quiet.

  I squeezed her closer. My heart froze. I pictured her mom: a small woman with dark hair going gray at the roots. Her parents retired when she was still in high school. They were already in their mid–sixties by then. Both of her parents were reserved in their expressions and thoughts. Natalie was like a huge boulder, gaining momentum and running over everything, while her parents were more like little pebbles that you w
alk past without ever seeing. They never seemed to question or regret how strong Natalie’s personality was. She was loved and she loved them. I knew that. As clearly as I knew my parents loved me. We didn’t all run around saying it every day, but it was just there. You know? Like breathing. You don’t have to think about it, you just do it. It plays a huge part of your life. That’s what my family did for me, anyway, and for Natalie too. But I see now that the concepts of immortality and happiness forever were meant for young idiots like me.

  I can’t believe Natalie was crying about her dying mother. We seemed too young to face such a possibility. Even as I know her parents are older than mine, it sends a sharp pang of fear down my back.

  “Is there any…”

  “No. Months at the most.”

  Silence. There was no need for platitudes with Natalie. My presence was all she wanted. Somehow I got that. As it was what I’d have wanted. We were often, to be honest, more alike than not in how we handle emotions, which was a little disconcerting during our adolescent years. She was a girl and I was a boy; and it never seemed normal to find so much kinship and understanding with the opposite sex. But we always remained friends. The best of friends. Dustin and she hung out together, but she and I were the two who completely understood each other. The endless races and games until long after dark not only proved who was faster, stronger, smarter, and better; but also that neither of us could admit defeat. Or give up. We got that about each other. When I did grow taller, stronger, and faster, I refused to let her win. I knew she’d have kicked in my balls if I ever treated her like a “girl.” She, at least, demanded the respect of a fair game/run/contest no matter what we were doing. That never changed about her. Or me.