rivers_bend

On Monday, I posted Nate's story.

Here is Rachel's story. (for those that are interested, this is what I sent in with my gradschool application)
Again, this would not be what it is without help from karaokegal, tigertrapped and dontkickmycane. Thank you all.


Title: Changes (Rachel)
Rating: Teen
Words: 3,476
Summary: Rachel wants to know what is going on with her boyfriend. Or so she thought.



Rachel could hear the phone ringing and ringing. What the hell was Nate doing? He’d been sitting watching telly when she went upstairs to put away the washing. After nine rings it cut off and then started up again.

“Nate! What are you doing? That’ll be your mother…” Nate’s mother always rang back if she got voicemail the first time around. Rachel heard a thump from the bathroom. Nate called through the door, “Busy, you get it?”

By running, Rachel managed to get the phone on the seventh ring. “Hello?” She tried not to sound as exasperated as she felt.

“Darling! Where’s Nate? What are you two doing? I didn’t interrupt anything did I?” Fiona’s giggle drilled right through Rachel’s head. Rachel just managed not to reply, “Chance would be a fine thing.”

“He’s in the bathroom; I’ll get him to ring you back. I’m cooking lunch at the moment so I have to go.” Rachel was always ready with evidence of her domesticity, an attribute highly regarded by the women in Nate's family, in order to get Fiona off the phone.

“Goodness, darling!” Fiona’s tone made Rachel's shoulders lift in irritation. “You’re getting an early start; it’s only just ten o’clock.”

Rachel willed her shoulders back down. “The potatoes are boiling dry, talk to you later.” She hung up before Fiona could protest.

Rachel was getting a bit concerned about Nate. Since she'd returned from her sister’s on Monday he’d been spending too much time in the bathroom. For nearly a week, he’d been disappearing in there for twenty minutes at a time, two or three times in the evenings, and yesterday, in the absence of work, it must have been five or six times. She tapped on the door on her way back past to finish with the laundry. “You ok in there?”

“Fine, fine, out in a minute.”

Rachel was putting away the laundry basket when she heard him going downstairs again. As she walked past the open bathroom door, she smelled something familiar and realized what Nate had been up to. She recoiled and, stomach clenching, walked into the bathroom to be sure. When she saw that he hadn't even bothered to wipe the evidence completely off the toilet seat, she was furious.

Nate had been going off sex steadily for the last six months or so. The frequency of their early nights and morning lie-ins had dropped from five or six times a week down to once or twice a month. He blamed stress at work, feeling tired, even eating too much a couple of times. She was busy with her new job so didn’t initiate it very often which probably didn’t help. He assured her over and over that he still fancied her. He just wasn’t feeling horny.

Masturbating six times a day was not the action of a man who didn’t feel horny. Rachel closed her eyes uselessly against the image of Nate locked in the bathroom. What was wrong with her? She had always been happy to do whatever Nate wanted, more than happy. Why was he doing this? Angrily, she swiped at her eyes and went downstairs to confront him.

She had expected to see Nate slumped in front of the TV again, but found him instead in the kitchen, talking to his mother on the phone while he peeled carrots. When he saw her, he smiled, rolling his eyes in the general direction of the phone on his shoulder. He managed to convey with gestures that she should indicate if he’d peeled enough carrots yet. She saw he’d peeled six already, twice the number she usually did, and panicked. Had he invited his mother for lunch? He began miming dramatic slashes at his wrists with the peeler, a sure sign that his mother was driving him crazy. He must have just gotten carried away.

She was overcome by a rush of affection for him. With his floppy hair and cat’s green eyes, it was unbearable how cute he was. Here he stood, doing the dinner and ringing his mother without being asked.

Anger flashed back when she realized he probably felt guilty. He so rarely helped out around the house, and never returned his mother’s calls without prompting and bullying. Nate looked up and smiled at her again, catching her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and his smile faltered. “Mother. Mother, I need to go now… I’m busy today… No… no… ok… Mother, goodbye.”

Rachel’s plan to calmly and rationally discuss the situation flew out the window. She lit into Nate as soon as he’d hung up the phone. “What the hell are you doing wanking in the bathroom 10 times a day when you won’t even kiss me goodnight?”

Nate sat down and put his head in his hands. His fingers dug into his scalp and she feared he would pop his eyes with the pressure of the heels of his palms. He seemed unable to breathe. Rachel was wondering if it was possible to suddenly acquire severe asthma, when Nate buried his head in his arms. She realized he was crying. Sitting down in the chair across from him, she tentatively reached out to touch his hair. She tried to think if she’d ever seen him cry before. Nate was generally a clown. He tended to joke about everything, to the point that she wondered sometimes if he would ever take anything seriously.

When her hand finally settled on his hair, he cried even harder, but she kept it there, stroking soothingly. She could not begin to imagine what was wrong with him. When he finally spoke she was sure she’d not heard him correctly. “I think I’m gay.” The words were muffled by his arms and thick with tears.

Rachel’s hand leapt back, seemingly of its own accord, and clutched at the other hand in her lap. “What?”

Nate looked up at her and took a shuddering breath. “I think… I want… I mean I think…” He couldn’t sustain eye contact. “I think I might be gay.”

Rachel felt as thought the air had been sucked out of her lungs. “No,” she said, “No, you’re not. You can’t be. No.” She thought she should want to cry, but she was numb. Nate was looking at her again now, eyes red, cheeks wet, but he seemed strangely calm.

“Maybe it’s just a phase. Something I need to get out of my system. I don’t know Rach, but I love you. I love you so much.”

The words released Rachel's tears. Now it was Nate’s turn to pet her hair. He pulled her up and held her tightly, stroking from her head down her back over and over again. She felt as though a stranger was comforting her.

Finally she pulled away, still within the circle of his arms, but far enough so she could look him in the eye. The feeling that he was a stranger lingered. “What do you mean Nate, get it out of your system? Since when is being gay something you get out of your system? Surely you are, or you aren’t.”

His eyes slid sideways for a second, but he managed to hold her gaze once he looked back. “I don’t know if I’m really gay. I just, I mean, I don’t know what’s going on. Simon… he said if it was ok with you, he would take me out. You know, to a club?”

“If it’s ok with me? Why… What?... You mean Si knows already? You told him before you told me?” Rachel started shaking violently.

“No. No! It wasn’t like that.” Nate was stroking Rachel’s face, trying to get her to look at him. “Si guessed. I don’t know how. He asked me if we hadn’t been clubbing with him in so long because I was afraid I’d like it too much…”

“How long ago was this? How fucking long has this been going on Nate?”

“Rachel, it’s not like you think. It’s not like that.”

“Like what? How exactly do you think I think it is?”

“I mean I haven’t been trying to keep secrets from you. I didn’t know… well I didn’t want to let myself know.”

Rachel jerked backwards out of Nate’s arms and stumbled into the lounge, curling up on the sofa. She had no idea if she hoped Nate would follow her or if she wanted him to leave her alone.

She was hugging her knees to her chest and weeping silently when Nate came and sat down by her feet. He reached out a hand, and putting it on her hip began to stroke her with his thumb. “Rach, Rachel, please don’t cry. Don’t, please don’t honey. I love you.” His hand felt heavy and hot where it lay. Though she could easily have sat up or moved away, she felt as though he were pinning her there with just that touch. His hand seemed to hold the weight of the words he had said in the kitchen.

The repetitive motion of his thumb on her hip was making her sleepy. Nate squeezed himself in behind her so he was lying curled around her. Like that, they drifted off, exhausted.

Rachel dreamed that she was on a big boat, like the Titanic. She was running from deck to deck trying to find the dining room, and the boat was getting smaller and smaller. At the same time, she was getting more and more lost. Finally she was alone in a lifeboat, then clinging to a plank of wood about to fall into the water. Her life-vest was choking her.

She woke up with Nate’s arm across her neck and her legs hanging off the edge of the sofa. All Nate’s words came rushing back, like a punch in the chest. She threw off his arm and dropped to her hands and knees on the floor. She looked at Nate. He looked so peaceful asleep, so much the man she loved.

The clock on the DVD player said 11:34 and now it really was time to get lunch started. Leaving Nate asleep on the sofa, Rachel went in to peel the potatoes and put the roast in the oven. By the time he woke, she had decided that he was being ridiculous. They’d been happy for five years. He’d never shown any signs of being gay before this.

They ate lunch as though nothing had happened that morning. Nate offered to go to the corner shop to get ice creams for afters. She said they should go together and take them up to the park.

Sitting under their favorite tree, Rachel said, “What did you mean when you said you thought you might be gay, Nate?”

“It’s just some dreams I’ve been having…”

“Dreams? Like about guys? Sex dreams?” Rachel was puzzled. All this drama over a few dreams? She’d had sexual dreams about girls, about her boss for goodness sake, and she wasn’t remotely attracted to her! She wasn’t going around crying about being gay over it.

“Well yeah. And maybe some fantasies too. Just lately.” Rachel could hardly hear Nate. He was looking away from her towards the pond.

She took his chin and turned his face towards her. “You’ve had a few dreams, some fantasies. You want to go out with Simon and ‘try it out’, kissing a guy? Is that what you’re saying?”

Nate hugged his legs, resting his forehead on his knees. Turning his head sideways he looked at Rachel. “Just one night. What do you think? Do you think you could live with that?”

“Just one night? Do you think I’m stupid?” Nate didn’t answer. Rachel felt the tears welling up again and willed them away. She didn’t want to break down while they were in the park. Standing, she reached to pull Nate to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go.”

They walked home in silence. As Nate unlocked the door, Rachel asked, “Do you actually care what I have to say about this? Or will you go out anyway?”

“I… Probably. I have to do this, I’m sorry…”

Rachel had expected the words, but they still hurt. “I can't --" Rachel breathed in sharply through her nose, but even the extra breath wouldn't let her finish her sentence. The air came out in a frustrated sigh. When she inhaled again, it didn't hurt so much. Calm as anything, she said, "You won’t go to a mixed night? You would go just to one of those gay places…” There was no way Rachel wanted any of their friends to run into her boyfriend dancing with other men.

“I’m not leaving you Rach, it’s just one night out.” Nate couldn’t look her in the eye.

The beginning of the week passed without further comment on the subject. Wednesday evening Nate went out to play badminton. He was in a good mood when he got home, having trounced his mate in all three games. They had a very pleasant supper and went to bed early, having sex for the first time in weeks. The earth didn't move and there were no shooting stars, but it reminded Rachel that she and Nate were good together. That they fit. Over breakfast the next morning, she said that Nate and Simon could go out Friday night while she was out at her friend’s hen do, and that she expected him back for supper on Saturday. If he decided that was it, this was the last she wanted to hear about it. He looked surprised for a moment but then agreed.

Rachel’s boss let her leave early on Friday to get ready for the hen night. Having recently gotten married herself, she was sympathetic to the cause of the ‘last hurrah’. Rachel was home by four, out of the shower and into the red wine by half past. She worked hard to keep her mind on her night out rather than Nate’s.

When her sister came to pick her up at 5:45, she was putting the final touches on her make-up. Her hair hung dark and straight halfway down her back. She was pleased with her new dress which set off the blue of her eyes. Peering somewhat drunkenly into the mirror, Rachel tried to see what about her had put Nate off. She looked just the same as she always had, slim to average, plain to pretty, well groomed. She drained her drink and gave herself one last look. She was drunker than she’d been in a while, but she looked fantastic and was ready to hit the town.
---

Rachel woke to the sun piercing through a crack in the curtains. She regretted not shutting them properly before going out last night; she'd known she’d be in no state when she got home. She dragged Nate’s pillow over her head and realized he wasn’t in bed with her. Tears pricked her eyes as she remembered why. She’d promised not to ask what he did in the 24 hours between last night and this evening, but she’d half hoped he’d be here when she got home.

Reaching out from under her pillow, she groped on the bedside table for her phone. It didn’t seem to be there. Since she couldn’t even remember getting into bed, she had no idea where it might be. She just hoped it was somewhere in the house. Her tongue felt like it was made of flannel. She considered getting up for a drink, but when she tried to move the pillow from over her eyes the sun was blinding. She burrowed under the duvet again and fell back asleep.


She woke a few hours later to the smell of a cup of tea. Nate was home. A huge smile broke through the hangover. She cracked an eye to look at him.

Her sister stood there, cup of tea in each hand and a pained look on her face. “I thought you could do with this even more than I could, but you look distressingly happy.”

“Why are you here?” Rachel’s smile was gone as though it had never been there.

“Cheers for that. Do you want this cup of tea or what?”

“Sorry hon. I just thought you were Nate, and you’re not. And he’s not home and…” Rachel struggled to remember what, if anything, she had told her sister about Nate’s outing. She’d wanted to keep it to herself until she knew what was happening, but Rachel had a tendency to talk a lot when she was drunk, and to tell Vanessa everything in any case. The combination was not necessarily good. Maybe that was why her sister was here and not back at the hotel with the rest of the girls from home.

“I thought he was on a weekend away with some guys from work?” Vanessa sat on the edge of the bed and prodded Rachel to sit up and take her tea.

“Yeah… yeah, um, he’s back tonight, I just got confused.” Rachel breathed a silent sigh of relief. She clearly hadn’t said anything. “So why aren’t you at the hotel with the girls?”

Vanessa gave Rachel a hard look. “The uncontrollable sobbing and copious vomiting that my sister was doing… I don’t know, I thought you could do with the company. Do you remember anything about last night?”

“Dinner… We had dinner, and then a pub crawl. There was alcohol. Kind of a lot. I remember that. And didn’t we go clubbing?”

Vanessa chuckled. “Yes, we went clubbing. Everyone was having a great time. Then you disappeared. I found you crying in the toilets. You vomited in the sink. I apologized to everyone and brought you home.”

Rachel leaned over and put her head on Vanessa’s shoulder. Vanessa laid a cool hand on the back of her neck for a moment, moving on to rub Rachel's back. Rachel felt some of the tension of the past week leak out of her. “He’s not at a works weekend, Ness.”

Vanessa didn’t say anything or stop the stroking, she just waited for Rachel to carry on. Or not, as she chose.

“He’s out with Simon. They went clubbing… you know, gay clubbing.” Hung over and vulnerable with the big sister who had always taken care of her, Rachel was crying again, but quietly. “He said he thinks he might be… He can’t be, can he? He loves me. He said he loves me.”

Vanessa put her arms around her sister and held her close. “I’m sorry honey, I’m so sorry. I know he loves you. He’ll be back. Didn’t he say he’s back tonight?”

“If he was really coming back, wouldn’t he be back already? He’d have got there, thought ‘This isn’t for me’ and come home. He’d have thought about me and come home.” Rachel was crying in earnest now. Vanessa held her as she cried, murmuring soothing nonsense into her hair. There was nothing she could say.

Rachel found her phone on the bathroom floor and tried not to show her disappointment at the lack of text messages. Vanessa offered to stay the day, but Rachel sent her back to the hotel to meet up with the others and enjoy the rest of the weekend. She showered and had another cup of tea with some toast before getting back into bed. She gathered Nate’s pillow to her face so she could smell him and cried until there was nothing left.

She’d known she was deluding herself, of course she'd known, but somehow she'd hoped that this was just a whim. Boys often gave him the eye when they’d gone out with Simon. He’d never seemed to notice, but she wondered now if that was deliberate. Had he been fooling her for five years, without even knowing it? Eventually exhaustion overtook her and she fell asleep again.

At five o’clock she got up and had another shower, changed the bedding and got dressed. She started cooking supper, and put a smile on her face in anticipation of Nate’s arrival. She was only able to keep it up for a few seconds at a time at first, but managed to maintain a smile by the time supper was ready.

Nate came home at 6:30 and Rachel could hardly look at him. “Tea’s nearly ready.”

“It smells delicious.”

Rachel tried desperately to gather more meaning from the words than Nate could possibly have imbued them with. She envisioned a pond and smoothed the surface in her mind. Eyes closed, she brought in winter and lay a thickening of ice over the surface. When she was fairly certain she wouldn’t cry, she turned around.

Nate was setting out the plates and cutlery, getting out a bottle of wine. His back to her he said tentatively, “Rachel…”

The ice shattered and her tears started. “I know.”