Nathan
Charlotte came out of the bathroom, already showered and dressed in her pajama. For some reason, she never liked to remain naked after sex — she always left the bed after not more than ten minutes, as if she was slightly ashamed of what we'd just done. I figured it had to do with her insecurities about her body, although sometimes, I wondered if my performances weren't nearly as alright as I thought they were. But she'd tell me if that was the case, right? She had no problem giving me feedback on how I'd handled talking to a particular family member. This should be just as easy, right?
"Oh, I'm exhausted," she said. She yawned, stretching out her arms, then entered the walk-in closet, probably to pick out her clothes for tomorrow. Her muffled voice continued from there, nearly unintelligible: "Today was too much, really. Dad rang twice to ask if we were still coming to dinner tomorrow. Oh, and Edward was bothering me with an utterly odd story, something about you and smoking? I had no idea what he was going on about." She emerged again, her arms full of clothes, staring at me with her lips pressed together. "You don't smoke, do you?"
The babbling thing was something she'd never done back home, but I definitely liked it. Why hadn't she done it back in the US? Had she never completely been at ease there? I grinned at her. "Would you throw me out with the trash if I said 'yes'?"
She shook her head, confused, carefully placing the pile on her chair. When she turned to me, her eyes were narrowed. "So, it's true? You smoke?"
"No, of course not. I don't think you should ever believe a word that guy says. I haven't smoked in years, apart from a joint sometimes." Oh no. Judging from her expression, I should've kept that information for myself. Before she could ask me about it, I added: "Why? Are you afraid I'll get lung cancer and die before you've taken me to your dad's birthday dinner?"
"Nathan! That's not funny!" But I laughed, and I could see something twitch around her lips, like she wanted to as well. "I don't understand why Edward is spreading all these lies about you. It's not like him at all."
Yeah... It was like him. I wasn't going to be the one to say that to her, though. I'd let her figure that one out herself. "I don't know either," I said, lying back down, hands folded behind my head.
She was quiet for a while, rummaging around the room. My eyes were fluttering, my body heavy; it'd been a long day, and the sex didn't help either. I didn't want to fall asleep yet. Tomorrow, I'd have to share her with half of upper-class London again, seeing her try to please her dad by charming some minister's wife.
"Albert smokes cigars," she said out of the blue, in a high, cheery voice.
When I looked up, she was combing her hair, attempting to look casual. I knew her too well to fall for it. "Yeah, sometimes. I've never had one. Don't like the smell." He particularly enjoyed them on nights we won the Pub Quiz, calmly blowing out the smoke to add it to the other fumes gliding through the city. Sometimes, I pictured him together with Mr. Guevara, and then I wondered if there was a way to let these men meet. It'd be an interesting combination, for sure. June could write an entertaining short story about it: The Englishman Who Didn't Speak and the American Who Always Spoke. Or something. She'd probably think of a better title than me.
But we were in London, and they were in California, and I didn't think I'd ever have the courage to invite Albert to join us for Christmas. Although, he might like to since he'd spend a semester abroad in San Francisco back in his college days. The only things he'd ever asked me about was if this and this place were still the same.
Charlotte sat down on the edge of the bed, starting her nightly cream ritual. I didn't know what all these tubes and jars were for, but she swore by them. I was glad she usually smeared them on after sleeping together, because they made her skin all slippery and greasy. Without looking at me, she said: "You spend an awful lot of time together, don't you?"
"Yeah, we do. He's not as bad as you think, you know," I said. She didn't get our friendship; she still saw him as a creepy bastard, even after all I told her about him, about how he made a point of paying for other regulars every once in a while and never yelled at me for writing defense instead of defence. "Like I said, you should come with us to the pub sometime. Have a beer. Relax a little. You're probably a lot better at answering those questions than I am."
She looked over her shoulder, smiling at me. "You're adorable," she said, leaning over to kiss me quickly. She tasted like Nivea. "Really, Nathan, you seem to have this flair for befriending the most unusual people. I think it's very touching." She bit her lip, frowning, rubbing her arms. "But, darling, you are aware that Albert's gay, are you?" Her fingers touched the base of her neck, lightly, strangely pale without the golden rings she wore during the day.
I hadn't been aware of that. At all. I'd never even wondered about Albert's personal life; he seemed to be one of those people that were more than content to live alone. "Yes, of course I am," I said. "Why?" She threw me a look, one that I didn't want to interpret the way I did. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Charlotte!"
"I merely want to warn you. What if he fancies you?"
She was being serious. A frown on her face, arms crossed — she meant this. It wasn't a bad joke. "You're out of your damn mind!" I ran my hands through my hair, unable to believe that those words had actually slipped from her mouth. "This is Albert we're talking about. Albert. The guy's my friend. You do know what that means, right?"
"He's a lonely, old man, Nathan. I don't think it's that far-fetched."
I sat up, suddenly wishing I'd put on clothes too — this wasn't a conversation I wanted to have while naked. "Oh, come on... He's not lonely. I think he's kind of content with his life, you know? Some people don't need to be with other people twenty-four seven." Why was she even suggesting this? I knew her as someone who usually saw the best in everyone, even if said person didn't deserve it. Albert was someone who definitely did deserve it. He was the first Englishman who'd taken an interest in me beyond the "so, what do you think of your president?". And to say that was because he was into me — that was ridiculous.
"Then what does he want with a young man like you?"
Truthfully, I'd been asking that myself in the beginning. Whatever the answer was, it wasn't this. "How about just having someone to—" talk to, I'd been about to say, only that wouldn't hold up in this case. "Look, old, lonely people, gay or not, also just want someone to hang out with. Friends. Also, you do realize I have female friends as well, do you? Doesn't mean I'm in love with them."
She was chewing her tongue, a frown on her face. "As far as I know, the only female friend you have is June. Otherwise, men-woman friendships, they don't work."
"Says who? What kind of bullshit is that?" So yeah, Lena and I had been messy, but that had nothing to do with our genders and everything with her mental health problems. It could work just fine. Look at June and me. Her and Sam. If following Charlotte's logic, my brother and I should both be pining for her right this moment. And as far as I was aware, neither of us was. Well, not in that way, anyway. I'd kill for her to be here right now and slay my girlfriend's sudden bizarre views for me. Or just to be here in general, so we could cook together and stroll along the markets, and she could tell me what the hell was going on with her.
"It's not nonsense. I've seen it happen many times before, all with people who'd persisted they were nothing more than friends."
"Oh, so, you think Sam and June are going to end up falling for each other?"
"I'm not talking about June here."
"Why not?"
"Because it's beside the point."
"Yeah, and what was the point again?"
She had her arms crossed, head tilted, standing beside the bed. It'd been a while since we last argued — we tried to avoid it, considering we were both lawyers, both trained to come up with smart comebacks and sharp observations, and we didn't want to use those tactics in our personal lives. "The point was," she said calmly, "that Albert is a lonely gay man. And no matter what you might believe, that is a valid point."
"No, it's a fucking terrible point!"
"Can you please stop swearing?"
"No! I won't stop swearing until you make some fucking sense again!"
We glared at each other, she with her chin resting on her chest, me breathing fast. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this angry with someone. If I could've, I'd walk away right then and there — the fact that I wasn't wearing any clothes made that option pretty impossible.
She took a deep breath. "I don't want to fight with you. Not about something this silly. I'm perfectly fine with you being friends with Albert, as long as you're aware of the things people might say about it."
Ah. That was it. Others. Opinions. Reputations. That explained much. "So, people have been saying shit, huh? Is that it? They're saying I'm having some kind of affair with him?"
Seems like I'd hit the mark. She sat down at the edge of the bed, pointlessly straightening the sheets. Red spots of stress blotched her face, visible due to the absence of make-up. "Yes," she said softly, avoiding my eyes. "Some people are. I know it's not true, but..."
"But you care too much about what other people are saying."
That made her look up. "You have no idea about how vicious girls can be, Nathan."
"I actually think I might know better than you."
June. Lena. Both different kinds of problems, both targeted by the same types of girls — pretending to be sweet, while underneath, their words were meant to tear them apart. It wasn't easy to not let them get to you, I'd seen that myself. Still, there was no reason to listen to anything they said, especially if it was something as ridiculous as this.
"I see," she said, louder again. "Evidently, I can't be hurt, because I'm too privileged to have feelings, aren't I?" Without another word, she slid under the covers, her back to me, and turned off the light on her nightstand.
Part of me wanted to say 'yes'. Yeah, she had everything she could wish for, and she wasn't in a position to complain. That was unfair, though. "Of course you can have feelings," I said, towards the bump beside me. "As long as you remain reasonable about it, and don't go ahead insulting perfectly respectable people."
She turned towards me, brushing the hair out of her face. "That wasn't my intention."
"I hope not. Because if it was, I'm putting on pants and getting the hell out of here."
She didn't respond, biting her lip. Her eyes were examining me, almost like the first time — was this the same girl as back then? Sometimes, she did things here in London she never would've done back home. She sighed, tentatively reaching out her hand. "I think... I think — maybe..." A deep breath. "It always feels like... like you prefer other people over me. I haven't seen you at all this week. And instead of spending the evening with me, you spend it with Albert."
Suddenly, I was more exhausted than I'd ever been before. I just wanted to lie down and fall asleep and not wake up until Sunday. Was this what it all had been about? She was jealous? Couldn't she just have told me that, like June would've done, instead of starting some useless fight? If she had, I would've felt bad about it. Now, I couldn't bring up the energy to even feel slightly guilty. "I did invite you to come by," I said, getting up and leaving the bed. The room was cold; I shivered, looking down on the girl I'd missed all week — the girl I currently couldn't really stand to see. "Jesus, Charlotte. I followed you halfway across the world, and you still can't handle me having other people in my life besides you?"
I didn't wait for her to respond, already marching into the bathroom. I wanted to slam the door shut, when: "I'm sorry! I never thought it was going to be this hard."
Yeah, well, neither did I. I turned around, to find her sitting up, arms wrapped around herself, suddenly really young and vulnerable. "You're making it a lot harder than it has to be," I said, my tone softer than I'd expected.
"I am, am I?" She bit her lip again. Her hair fell in front of her face, hiding her eyes, and I wondered if she was crying. "I know. I'm an insecure twat, I've said it before. But darling, I only wanted to see you. And you didn't want to see me. I can't even remember the last time we spent a whole day together, just the two of us."
Okay. Now I did feel guilty. Had I really put a Pub Quiz above seeing her? Above the whole reason I moved to this country in the first place? "I did want to see you," I said. "But Albert is the first friend I made here, and that's something I don't want to screw up. And don't you remember we had times back in California where we were as busy as we are now?"
She nodded. "Yes. We did. It's merely that, now we're here, I feel responsible for making it work. Responsible for you."
I took a deep breath. I wasn't used to her talking to me like this; it was strangely foreign, and I didn't know what to do with it. How could I've known this was what was going on inside her head? "You're not the only one responsible. We both are, remember? You didn't make this choice alone. I agreed, and I don't regret it." Most of the time. "But that doesn't mean it's easy. You have to cut me some slack, okay? I'm trying. I really am."
She smiled at me, widely, uncertain. "I know you are. And I love you for it. I do know how difficult it is to adapt to another culture, you know." Yeah, she did. I almost forgot about it. "I'm thrilled you've got someone else here, truly. But then, to hear others talk about you like that... It makes me fear they'll never accept you."
"Who cares if they don't?" I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, close to her. I was tired of being angry, tired of fighting the only person in a four-thousand-mile radius I loved. "I've got you, and I think Albert likes me, and you said your parents like me too... What more do you need?"
She giggled. "Nathan," she said, blushing fiercely. "You're naked. Please don't mention my parents when you're naked."
I grinned — a weight fell off of me; her embarrassment reminded me of the reasons I fell for her in the first place. I thought of June, and how we'd lain on the carpet, and suddenly, I couldn't recall why Charlotte and I had been arguing. "I know I'm naked. Do you want me to dance for you?"
Her cheeks reddened even more. "What? What on earth are you talking about? Nathan — stop, I can't watch this!" But I had to do it, if only it was to see June's face when I'd tell her about it —
Until I realized we didn't really tell each other things lately, and all at once, I couldn't see the point in dancing anymore.