Work Text:
God, God, what do I do after all this survival?
- Traci Brimhall
2009
It takes a good five minutes for Natalie to work up the courage to knock on the door. She hovers like a phantom, unmoving in the bitter cold, staring at the scuff marks on her boots. Everything will stop when she puts her knuckles to the wood. Everything will get better.
Nat takes a deep breath. For Jackie, she reminds herself, and knocks.
The door opens sooner than Nat expected. She takes a step back, startled to be faced with her old friend once again.
Van is a sight for sore eyes. She’s dressed for bed in an oversized sweatshirt and flannel pyjama pants, her red hair piled atop her head. There are heavy circles under her eyes. Nat doesn’t think she’s ever seen her looking so tired; nor does she think she’s ever been so happy to see her.
“Oh my god,” Van says, her shoulders sagging.
“What is it?” Taissa calls from inside.
“It’s Nat!” Van cries. She steps over the threshold and flings her arms around Nat, drawing her into a desperate embrace.
Nat sways on the spot with Van, tears pebbling in her eyes. She buries her face in Van’s shoulder, resisting the urge to weep.
“Holy shit,” Van says. “Oh, Nat. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks Van,” Nat says, sounding every bit as feeble as she feels.
“Come on – come inside – it’s freezing – ”
Inside, the warm space is jarring. Nat has spent the past week withering in a cheap hotel room, impersonal and barely clean. The home in which she now stands is real, lived-in; the coffee table is cluttered in papers and the book shelf is covered in photo frames. Nat’s heart leaps when she spots a photo of Jackie in a hospital room, holding a newborn baby in her arms and smiling serenely at the camera.
“Shit,” Nat groans. “The baby.”
She turns and sees Tai standing on the edge of the living room, a pink-cheeked toddler stirring in her arms.
“Shit, the baby,” Tai echoes, frowning at Nat. “Are you clean?”
“Tai!” Van scolds.
“It’s not that I’m not glad to see you,” Tai tells Nat. “But we have Marnie to think about now. We can’t have somebody on drugs in the house.”
Van is not as quick to chastise Tai for making this point. Van looks at Nat, her face twisting with worry.
“I’m clean,” Nat mumbles. “Um, six days, I think. But I wasn’t thinking about Marnie – I should go.”
“No,” Van and Tai say in unison.
“Sit down,” Tai says sternly. “Have you eaten? Van made lasagne.”
The last thing Nat ate was a chocolate bar from the hotel vending machine. She doesn’t say so, but Tai guesses. She hands Marnie over to Van and leaves for the kitchen.
Marnie lets out a happy shriek and smacks her mama on the chin. Van shakes her head at her daughter, tenderness blossoming in her eyes. Marnie is Van’s little clone, with her tufts of auburn hair and her mischievous smile. She’s gotten so much bigger since the last time Nat saw her.
“How are you so wide awake, baby girl?” Van asks Marnie. She kisses her forehead, then settles her carefully on a nearby play mat.
It’s September, Nat remembers.
“She had a birthday,” Nat realises out loud.
“Yeah,” Van agrees. “Almost a month ago. She’s one.”
A year ago, Nat and Jackie walked through the hospital with their hands entwined, grinning like children. Jackie was so excited to meet the baby that she bounced every step of the way. But when they reached Tai’s hospital room and saw Marnie for the first time, Jackie mellowed. She was so gentle with the baby, so careful as she brought her into her arms.
The memory reduces Nat to tears. Van comes to sit by her side and wind an arm around her. She knocks their heads together and Nat lets out a soundless laugh, grateful to be held again.
Tai returns to the living room and makes space on the coffee table for the bowl of reheated lasagne.
“Thanks,” Nat manages, pulling away from Van so she can pick up the silverware. Her fingers shake as she pushes her fork through the layers of pasta and mince.
“Do you have any idea how terrified Jackie is?” Tai asks, quietly.
“Tai,” Van sighs. “Maybe let her settle in first.”
Nat puts her knife and fork back down. “I haven’t spoken to her. But I can imagine.”
“It’s probably worse than you’re imagining,” Tai says.
“Tai – ”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m just surprised that you would get clean and come here, instead of going home to your girlfriend.”
“I want to go to rehab,” Nat says.
The room falls silent. Marnie, unbothered on the floor, continues shaking a maraca with force.
“I need to make sure I’m gonna be okay before I – ” Nat cuts herself off with a pained sound. “I don’t want to give her false hope. I’ve got to pull myself together before I see her again.”
Eight years ago, Nat left rehab and crash-landed in Jackie Taylor’s guest room. Eight years ago, Nat had her ribcage yanked open by the wide-eyed look of a heaven-sent girl. She surrendered her heart to dainty kisses and bright smiles and doting affection. She fell in love and she learned to be happy.
In the span of four months, Nat has undone eight years of work.
Nat is so distracted by the tragedy that she cannot bring herself to be annoyed by the obvious way that Tai and Van are trying to communicate through frantic eye contact.
“Okay, Scatorccio,” Van says, after a moment. “Tai is going to take another shot at putting Marnie down, and you and I are gonna have a chat.”
“You make it sound like you’re about to give me a lecture.”
“How do you know I’m not?”
Van raises her eyebrows playfully, and Nat smiles sadly. Tai gives Nat a sympathetic smile before she gathers Marnie into her arms and takes her away, murmuring to her about bedtime as she goes.
“Eat,” Van says, pushing the plate closer to Nat. “Seriously, when was the last time you had a real meal?”
“God, you’re such a mom now,” Nat murmurs, picking up her fork.
“Yeah, I’m a natural.”
They’re quiet for a moment, as Nat eats her dinner. The flavour is rich and real on her tongue, familiar. Nat is reminded of a thousand different nights; she couldn’t guess how many times she has made lasagne for Jackie.
“What did Jackie get Marnie for her birthday?”
Van looks both surprised and devastated by this question.
“The rabbit,” she says, gesturing to the other couch, where a beautiful rabbit doll sits on a cushion. She has soft brown fur, and she wears a pink dress that matches the bow atop her head. The insides of her floppy ears have a floral pattern.
“That looks… expensive,” Nat says, picking the rabbit up. She pauses when she considers that Jackie chose this doll, that she touched her, that she probably wrapped her in shimmering pink paper.
“Yeah, Tai looked it up. It was, like, two hundred bucks. But you know Jackie,” Van says. Once, she might have said that as an insult, but she sounds fond now.
“I know Jackie,” Nat agrees, her voice hoarse. She puts down the rabbit and takes a deep breath.
“Better than anyone,” Van says pointedly. “Well enough to know that she’d want to see you, no matter what.”
“I know.”
“And that doesn’t make a difference for you?”
“No,” Nat says. “What would I even say to her? I miss you? I’m sorry?”
“That actually sounds pretty good to me,” Van says. “Especially after months of you being MIA.”
Nat says nothing. She chews her lasagne, trying not to think about what Tai said about Jackie’s terror. Van leaves her to eat in peace, making an attempt to tidy up the living room. Some of the mess is from Tai’s law documents, but most of it is from Marnie’s toys, littered all over the floor.
It’s a very domestic scene, in a very nice house. When Nat remembers the trailer park where Van grew up, she is struck by feelings of relief and jealousy. Not that such a home is unobtainable for Nat; she had her own version of it, not long ago.
Getting that life back is all she wants. Her chances feel more precarious with every second that passes. On some level, Nat knows that her time is not finite, that Jackie will wait for her. This comfort is difficult to hold, when she feels so guilty about it.
“Do you want seconds?” Van asks, once Nat’s plate is empty.
“No thanks.”
Van sits back down with a sigh. “What happened, Nat?”
“I’m sure you already know.”
“I know the auto shop shut down. I know you and your coworkers had a crazy party.”
Nat shrugs. “That about sums it up. I got drunk enough to get high and high enough to do coke. Then everything just… spiralled.”
“Okay,” Van says, slowly. “But that’s just one night. What happened after that?”
“More of that. What do you think? We don’t need to go over the details.”
Overcome by shame, it brings Nat some relief when Van nods in understanding.
“Okay. Okay,” Van says, drumming her fingers on her thighs. “So, then, rehab. Rehab then Jackie?”
There’s a heavy pause. Nat blinks rapidly at her knees.
“I’m not sure,” she admits, her voice hollow. “I don’t know if I should try to get back into her life. I’m not… I’m not good for her.”
It feels like a solemn confession. Something she has needed to get off her chest for years, something she has worked towards saying out loud.
Van meets it with a loud, rude snort. “That is horseshit, Nat. You’re the best thing that ever happened to Jackie.”
This has got to be among the more sacrilegious sentences that Nat has ever heard uttered. She makes a choking noise and gets to her feet, walks into the corner of the room with her head in her hands.
“It’s true,” Van insists. “She would agree with me!”
“Yeah, and she’d be fucking wrong,” Nat says, whirling back around. “She deserves so much better than a drug addict for a life partner.”
“Jackie always knew there was a chance you might relapse. She knew what she was getting into when she invited you to live with her. For god’s sake, you were fresh out of rehab when you moved in with her!”
A flash of a memory returns to Nat: lying in bed with Jackie, watching the sunrise shine on her hair. She felt safe enough in those bedsheets to whisper her greatest fear: What if I relapse?
I love you, Nat, Jackie had answered. That isn’t going to go away if you make a mistake. If you relapse, then we’ll deal with it. Together.
The world was quiet in those days, gentle, even with the nettles in her throat. Loving Jackie and knowing she couldn’t have her was a unique agony, the sweetest Nat has ever known. She remained hesitant about acting on her feelings, even after warning Jackie about the threat of a relapse. Part of her had felt selfish for kissing her anyway.
Nat was right to fear a relapse, though it happened further down the track than she might have expected. She was also right to doubt Jackie’s optimism about how they could handle a relapse as a team – though, when she stops to consider it, Nat realises that she didn’t give Jackie a chance to help her. She disappeared, leaving her love in the dark.
“I miss her so much,” Nat sniffles. “I miss her face and her jokes and – fuck. You know, we all shit on her in high school for acting like she was perfect, but she actually kinda is. She’s got the biggest heart I’ve ever known, she cares about everything so much. But she doesn’t see how good she is, she’s so hard on herself – and she’s spent the better part of a decade with me, because she doesn’t know she could do so much better – ”
“Stop it, Nat,” Van says, shaking her head, looking disturbed. “This is crazy. Jackie loves you. None of this other shit matters – not what you think she deserves, nothing. She loves you and you make her happy.”
Another memory rushes back to Nat – smoking together on the balcony, telling Jackie that love was about wanting, not deserving. The concept seemed simpler in those days, before she knew what it felt like to accept love so pure from a woman so precious.
Nat lets out a sarcastic scoff. “Is this me making her happy?”
Van purses her lips. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about, Nat.”
There’s a brief stand-off – they stare at one another, Nat with her arms crossed, Van with her hands on her hips. It becomes bizarre when Nat realises their resemblance to a parent and a teenager arguing. It becomes sweet when Nat thinks about what a good mom Van is going to be.
The tension deflates from her shoulders.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Van,” Nat sighs. “I’m sorry for showing up on your doorstep and yelling at you.”
A warm smile appears on Van’s face. “You think yelling is rare around here? I live with Taissa Turner and a baby.”
Nat manages a weak laugh.
“Hey, I’m really glad you’re here,” Van says. “Now we know you’re safe, and clean, and you’ve got a plan to get better. It’s a massive relief.”
“Thanks,” Nat says. “I think I wanted to see a familiar face before I left.”
“That makes sense,” Van says. “Do you have a place picked out? Tai and I can help you look, we can drop you off, we can visit – ”
Nat bobs her head rapidly, comforted by every word that Van says. She finds herself walking towards her and wrapping her arms around her once more, as if she hasn’t already been hugged enough tonight.
“Thank you,” she whispers, blinking tears from her eyes.
Come morning light, Nat is roused by pudgy hands on her face. She squints one tired eye open and finds Marnie leaning over the side of the couch, her face rosy and inquisitive.
Warmed, Nat reaches out a tentative hand and touches the wispy red curls that gather on the little girl’s neck.
“Hi Marnie,” Nat mumbles. “You’re walking.”
“Not quite.”
The unexpected voice makes Nat drop her hand from Marnie’s cheek. Tai is sitting cross-legged on the other side of the coffee table, in a circle of discarded toys.
“She still needs some help,” Tai explains. “That’s why she’s clinging to the couch. She’s a bit of a late bloomer – I was walking at ten months. But Van says we shouldn’t worry about meeting milestones by specific dates.”
“I’m going off what the paediatrician says!” Van calls. She appears in the doorway of the lounge with a grin on her face and a plastic spatula in her hand. “Morning, Nat. Ready for breakfast?”
As nicely as the sofa has been made up for her, with fresh linens and a soft doona, Nat is reluctant to get up. But she makes it to the kitchen, rubbing her fingers over the ache that already stirs in her temples.
She makes a quick start on her breakfast, hoping that putting substance in her stomach might amend the queasy feeling she has. The pains of withdrawals cling to her, even with the worst of it behind her.
Van is strapping Marnie into her highchair, then presenting her with a tiny bowl of sliced bananas.
“Nar-nars!” Marnie enthuses, picking up a fragment and squeezing it between her dimpled fingers.
“I don’t know why I bother,” Van says fondly.
“Have you already eaten?” Tai asks, smoothing her hand over Van’s shoulder as she moves to sit down.
“I ate while I cooked. You go ahead.”
“Alright. Thanks, babe.”
“We’ve been over this, honey. You don’t play with the nanas, you eat them,” Van tells Marnie, guiding her fingers to her mouth. “See? There we go! That’s better. Yummy nanas.”
“How’d you sleep?” Tai asks Nat.
“Alright. What about you?”
“Better than I expected. She slept through the whole night – didn’t you, Marns?”
“Yes, you did!” Van coos, grabbing one of Marnie’s kicking feet.
Nat smiles at the scene – eggs and bacon on a Saturday morning, a grinning baby clapping banana between her hands. She watches as though she is not sitting at the table, because she knows she does not belong, with her ashen face and barely-there smile.
At least there is no chance of Marnie remembering this morning. Nat takes some comfort in this, as she moodily chews her toast.
“So, Nat,” Tai says slowly. “If you’re still thinking about rehab, I’ve got a work contact at this place called the Healing Haven. It’s well-rated.”
Nat resists the urge to comment on the stupid name.
“Do you know if they’re taking in new people?”
“Yes, actually. I called this morning and they’ve got a spot for you. It’s a three month program, so you’d be out of there before Christmas.”
Nat is struck by her first proper wave of reluctance. Rehab is the obvious solution, but it hasn’t seemed as real as it does now, when she is reminded of how time has moved without her. Christmas is approaching.
Jackie loves Christmas. When they first got together, she was still sad about not being able to go home for the holidays and preferred not to make a fuss of celebrating. She changed her tune over time, started wearing red and green through the month of December and hanging mistletoe in every doorway of the apartment, as if Nat needed another reason to kiss her.
Eventually, Nat came to love Christmas as well. The music, the lights, the annual Home Alone rewatch. Her favourite part of winter is decorating the Christmas tree, watching Jackie bop around in her Santa hat, singing along to Mariah Carey.
Maybe there is light at the end of the tunnel.
“They’ve got a spot for me right now?” Nat asks.
Tai nods. “Fiona said you could come tonight if you wanted.”
“How fancy is this Healing Haven? Is it gonna cost an arm and a leg?”
This is a saying that Nat doubts she would have used before Jackie, but nobody comments on it. Tai and Van are too busy exchanging a fervid look.
“Listen, Nat,” Tai says. “We talked about it, and if you need help – ”
“No, no,” Nat says at once. “I’ve got savings. But thanks.”
“Okay. Just… let us know,” Tai says. “I think they do payment plans, there’s some flexibility. The important thing is you get the help you need, right?”
“It was my idea,” Nat reminds her. She tries not to feel too degraded, talking to her friends so plainly about getting help.
“I’m gonna call Fiona back and let her know. You’re good to go tonight?”
“The sooner the better.”
“Okay.”
Tai walks into the living room to use the phone. Van tries to keep the pitying look off her face, but there’s no hiding the sadness in her eyes.
“Tonight is soon,” she says, softly.
Nat hums in agreement.
“Are you sure you don’t want to call Jackie first?”
Nat only frowns in reply.
“You know we’re going to have to tell her we saw you,” Van says. “She’s gonna be furious when she knows we had you and didn’t call her straight away. She’s going to be heartbroken.”
“Van,” Nat groans. “I already feel terrible about this.”
“Is that the best foot to get off of, before going to rehab?”
It’s a good point. Nat can’t deny that – nor can she deny how badly she wants to talk to Jackie. She presses her knuckles to her mouth and stares at Van, feeling muddled and desperate.
“Look, I’m not gonna fight you on this,” Van sighs. “I know better than to try to reason with an addict. But I also know that your best shot at staying clean is getting support from the people you love.”
Nat heaves a sigh. “I feel like a monster.”
“You’re not a monster, Nat,” Van says, reaching across the table to squeeze Nat’s hand. “I know monsters. You know monsters. You’re not one of them.”
For a blink, all Nat can see is blood. Blurring her father’s face, falling from her eyes like teardrops. She feels the absence of poison from her veins and imagines leaving – running out the door, away from these people who won’t let her numb the memories. These people want to keep her acquainted with every miserable feeling that lingers with her.
Another blink, and the shadows shift. Nat remembers that Van and Tai are her dear friends. She remembers how badly she wants to watch Marnie grow up. She thinks about Jackie, the love of her life, and knows what she must do.
Nat joins Tai in the living room and waits for her turn to use the phone. Once it is handed to her, she dials the number she knows by heart and presses the receiver to her cheek. Her fingers shake as the ring rumbles in her ear.
“Hello?”
The moment that Nat hears Jackie’s voice again, tears slip from her ears. Jackie sounds so familiar – her voice is flatter than usual, less present, but still sweet, still warm.
“Hello?” Jackie says again.
“Hi,” Nat gets out.
There’s a loaded pause. Nat closes her eyes, weary of what comes next.
“Nat?” Jackie asks, her disbelief clear.
“Yeah. It’s me.”
With that, Jackie is sobbing. She shudders with loud, heaving sobs that do not keep her from talking. “Oh my god, Nat. Nat, are you okay? Are you safe? Where are you?”
“I’m okay,” Nat says. “I’m safe.”
“Thank god. Nat – ”
“I’m clean. I’ve been clean for about a week now.”
“Oh!”
“I’m going to rehab. Tonight.”
“Oh! Oh, okay,” Jackie says, still weeping. “That’s – I mean, that’s great.”
“Don’t,” Nat says, with a broken laugh. “I’m so sorry.”
She was worried that it would sound meaningless, but the weight of the word is heavy in her throat. It has the meaning she gives it and she knows that Jackie understands what swells inside her chest.
“I know, Nat,” Jackie whispers. “I’m sorry, too. I can only imagine what you’ve been going through.”
Nat covers her teary eyes with her hand. “I really miss you.”
“I miss you too. Every minute of every day. I feel like I’ve been going insane.”
“I know the feeling,” Nat says, wiping her cheeks.
“Can I see you before you go?” Jackie asks. “I could bring you a bag to take to rehab – I could visit you in rehab – ”
Nat has to choke down a sob before she can tell Jackie to come over.
In her haste to reach Natalie, Jackie wrenches open the car door and falls to her knees on the side of the road. Nat, waiting for her on the grass, feels her jaw drop. Before her relapse, she would have laughed at the visual for a solid five minutes. This morning, the sight of Jackie scrambling towards her like a foal on unsteady feet makes her want to cry again.
They meet in the middle of the yard. Jackie throws her arms around Nat’s neck and Nat hides her face in the wool of Jackie’s sweater. She smells like perfume and powder, but she isn’t wearing a stitch of makeup. Her face is beautiful and haunted. She puts her hands on Nat’s cheeks, cradling her with reverence, staring at her as though she expects her to vanish.
“Hi,” Nat breathes.
Jackie lets out a whimper. She pulls Nat into a kiss that’s too fervent to be smooth. The hurried mess of their lips grounds Nat, pulling her back into reality, all the way down to the soles of her feet.
“Hi. You cut all your hair off,” Jackie says, pinching a strand of Nat’s shoulder-length hair.
Nat got it cut while clean, out of disgust of how greasy and tangled her hair had gotten; washing it hadn’t felt like enough to get rid of the grit.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it. I always love your hair. I always love you.”
Her eyes look big, even by Jackie standards. Earnest, even by Jackie standards.
“I love you too,” Nat whispers, drawing Jackie back into a hug. “Always. No matter what happens to me, no matter how it seems, I love you.”
“It’s okay – ”
“It’s not okay. I’m so sorry, Jackie. I’m so, so, so sorry.”
Jackie shushes her, running her fingers through Nat’s hair. “Nothing is going to happen to you. You’re going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay now.”
For the first time in a long time, Natalie wonders if this is possible.