Skin Like Dawn (8 page)

He chuckled a little bit and tugged him behind her toward the door.  

There was a youngish redheaded woman who sat at a small desk by the window, who looked up the moment that they stepped in.  The office was relatively small, and there really didn’t seem to be a need for a secretary, but she seemed purposeful despite this.  

“Hello,” she answered with a smile in her eyes.  “You must be the Greenes.  We were expecting you a little later, with the bad weather coming down from Canada.  How are you?  Tired, I suppose.” 

Brandon and Natalie looked at each other fleetingly before he turned to her and extended his left hand. 

“Please, call me Brandon,” he replied cordially.  “And this is my wife, Natalie…” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” she said.  “I’m Addison Shepherd.  I handle all of Mr. Neeson’s paperwork for new tenants. Pardon me for being forward, but you’re a gorgeous couple.”

“Thank you,” Natalie replied.  “He’s good-looking for the both of us…”

Brandon nudged her with embarrassment.  “We’re ready to get started whenever you are.  I know my wife is anxious to see the house.  She was a little scared of the paintjob you showed us in the pictures online…” 

She shyly murmured “Brandy”, and he wrapped his arm around her instinctively.  

“Not to worry, Mrs. Greene,” Addison said, taking a seat at her desk again.  “I personally looked at it myself.  The shades of green and pale blue look amazing with the refinished hardwood floors.  And at a great bargain.  Please, have a seat.  I have the lease ready for you.” 

This is where Brandon shined.  They sat down together, and she reflexively placed her hand on his upper thigh, squeezing gently for support.  Contracts or other binding documents were no match for his intrinsic eye.  They’d already spent a number of hours pouring over houses and rental rates, assured in the idea that they both knew what they wanted and what they expected.  

They most certainly didn’t want a house with a huge yard.  There was no need.  And with a new baby on the way, Natalie wanted him in the house more than she wanted him outside, making sure the lawn was tidy every weekend.  An a fancy John Deere lawnmower was an unnecessary expense, and her husband admittedly felt older just at the idea of owning something like that. 

“Yes, I’m going to be a father,” he’d said.  “But I don’t want to be my father…”

Understood.

They also didn’t want too many stairs in the house – blame Natalie’s paranoia.  As clumsy as she was, she couldn’t imagine falling down the stairs and putting her baby at risk – whomever he or she was growing inside of her.  

She also didn’t want to live too close to the city.  Sure Brandon’s commute would be a little longer, but with all the smog and other miscellaneous pollution problems the west coast dealt with year-round, she didn’t want to contract some rare airborne abnormality that she couldn’t shake and could consequently pass onto the baby.  

But she was a fucking med school dropout, what did she know?  

“So, as I understand it, Mr. Greene,” Addison continued.  “You want to end your lease in two years?” 

“That’s correct,” Brandon replied, glancing at Natalie momentarily.  She smiled reassuringly.  

“My wife and I, depending on the situation at that time,” he continued.  “Want to explore the option of purchasing a house in the area…should we decide to stay here…”

“Excellent! Where are you two originally from?”

“I’m from upstate New York and she’s from Georgia…”

“Yes,” Natalie smiled.  “We are the complete cross-cultural experience…”

Addison giggled, then glanced at her husband.  She noticed something, but decided not to remark on it.  

“Portland is a very welcoming community and your neighborhood is quite progressive,” Addison said, fumbling through a small stack of papers in front of her.  “I hope that you decide to make Oregon your staple.”

She glanced at her husband again. 

Brandon grinned.  “We’ll definitely consider it, Ms. Shepherd.”

“Addison, please,” she replied.  “Now, I know that we discussed it over email, but I just wanted to make sure now that I’ve met you.  Brandon you will be starting at Kemp & Beal next week, isn’t that correct?” 

Brandon nodded slowly.  “Yes.” 

“Great.  And did you fax over a copy of your offer letter?” 

“I forgot, my apologies.  I’ll do that as soon as we get everything set up in the house.”

“Not a problem, Mr. Greene,” Addison assured him.  “Take your time.  Art Director is an exciting position.  Nervous?”

“Not really,” he answered confidently.  “I’ve always been a sucker for a good challenge.”

He looked down at Natalie and winked at her.  She blushed. 

“I have no doubt in my mind that you will be successful,” she appraised.  “And Natalie you’ll be…?”

“My wife will be working on making the house our home,” he interjected looking down at her.

She wasn’t sure how to feel – but she couldn’t ignore the subtle, initial sting.  She shuffled in the wooden seat beneath her, and pursed her lips, feigning a small smile for the sake of her small audience.  

“Very well,” she replied resolutely.  “You’re almost all set.  As soon as you sign on a couple of pages, we’ll be good to go.  I’ll hand you your keys and I’ll drive you over to the house myself if you like…”

“That’s very nice of you, Addison,” he answered.  “We’d very much appreciate it.”

SHE DIDN’T THINK TO BRING IT UP UNTIL SHE WERE BRANDON WERE ALONG THAT NIGHT, AND RELATIVELY SETTLED. It was the first time in a long while, where she felt her irritation brimming on the edge, bursting at the seams, hardly contained

They were sitting across from each other, eating pizza, and he glanced up at her, eyebrows furrowed.  “Why the hell are you staring at me like that?” 

She’d been ogling at him relentlessly for several minutes, unblinkingly acute.  

“Natalie,” he pressed. “Answer me.” 

She cleared her throat.  “So...you said something to Addison today that I thought interesting...”  

“Oh? What’s that?” 

“I don’t know,” she sang. “Something about how you don’t want me to work?” 

His eyes flickered. “Oh...” 

“Yea. Care to elaborate on that?” 

“Of course.” He dropped his napkin on his empty plate.  “You’re not working.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Because you don’t have to.” 

“Don’t put it on me, Brandon,” she said, rising to her feet. “Be a man and tell me it’s because you don’t want me to.” 

“Fine. I don’t want you to.” 

“And why not?” She’d raised her voice.  She didn’t give a fuck.

“Because you’re my wife. And there’s work to be done here.” 

“Are you hearing what you’re saying right now?” 

“Yes, I’m pretty conscious of it, thank you.” 

“I can’t believe you, Brandon Greene.” 

“What? I thought that this would be something that you’d want to do. You’re pregnant, Natalie. Why start a new job if you’re only going to have to leave in seven months? You’ve done so much for everyone else. Allow me to do something for you, for once.” 

“Oh, so you just made that decision for me, huh? Without consulting me? How fair is that, Brandon?” 

He stood up, too, mimicking her stiffened stance.  “I’m doing what I feel is necessary for us, Tallie. For our sanity.” 

She chuckled emptily. “No, you’re not. You’re doing this for you. To make you feel better. This was never about me.”  

She had every intention of walking out of the room, away from him. But, he followed her, yanking on her arm to turn her around to face him.  “Don’t do that,” he muttered. 

“What? Are you telling me that I don’t have control over where I go in this house anymore? Is that what you’re saying?” 

“You can take whatever you want from what I’m saying, but it stands.” 

Natalie looked toward the ground, hands on her hips defensively.  “Where is it?” 

He looked confused. “Where is what?” 

“Your foot. I haven’t seen you put it down yet.” 

“Oh, it’s definitely down, smart ass. Are we through with this conversation?”

“Yea, I guess we are.” She started for the stairs. “Our bedroom’s going to be a little crowded tonight. You better find somewhere else to stay.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. So, all delusions of you christening that bed in our new house should just go away now. Goodnight, Brandon Greene.” 

SHE WALKED INTO THEIR BEDROOM SLOWLY. Their new sleigh bed was there. They’d picked it out together.  At a reasonable price, no less.  It reminded her of how compromising they could be, if the right environment called for it.  

But not right now. They were on two different pages. 

And where the hell did it come from?

She could’ve cried. She’d blame her pregnancy.  

She could’ve stomped a little; beat the shit out of him. 

But she just locked the bedroom door and crawled into bed. 

Too much was changing all at once. She’d take it in with silence. 

THE NEXT MORNING, BRANDON SAID NOTHING OF THEIR FIGHT. He didn’t even move in to hug or kiss her. 

That’s how she knew he was serious. 

MATEO

UNDER A PILE OF BRANDON’S BUSINESS SUITS, she found a small stack of her med school books a few weeks later.  They sat there, dust collecting and tattered, as though desperate to be discovered, luring her eyes in with no remorse.  She could’ve left them there on the floor in the guest bedroom.  It would have been a simple solution to a recent past she continued to ignore.  But then a bit of organic sunlight spilled into the room, illuminating a couple of words on the covers, reigniting her shelved belief of “divine intervention”.  For a moment she though that Brandon had left them there for her to find intentionally.  He was thoughtful that way.  He knew that she’d grow tired of seeing his pile of unused clothes sitting there, and that she’d eventually want to pick them up.  After all, her own boredom got to her sometimes, enough so that, by lunchtime, she’d cleaned up more than she needed to.  

She walked a little closer to them.  Something in her belly thumped at her.  She flattened her palm against herself, gazing downward, swallowing thickly, imagining a time when it was just her and her own goals, her passion, her future.  She closed her eyes slowly, fighting the urge to weep at her own helplessness.  

She could take Zuly up on her offer, but what would that bring her? More strife and struggle in her relationship than she was prepared to deal with?  Brandon had made it very clear about what he expected from her - and she was far too weak to even think about fighting back.  Storming out and collecting her thoughts was her only defense, really; and she waited for Brandon to come running after her and apologize.  Like he always did.  

How sick was that? 

She picked up one book and began leafing through it; a picture wedge in between pages tumbled out.  It was an image of her with her sisters, taken by her mother at some point, when they couldn’t have been any older than middle school aged.  It was a reminder, really; of why she was doing it in the first place.  Sometime long ago, she had fallen in love with the idea of saving her family singlehandedly.  Being the hero that her “somewhere estranged and lost” father, Raphael could never measure up to.  

She often thought about him and where it all went wrong, suddenly filled with anger, spilling over the edge of her.  She could stop it, of course, but she often wallowed in it, unsure of how she would really feel if she finally let it go.  Let her father go.  He’d disappeared when she was on ten years old; and with it her resolve to ever trust that men would always come through, no matter the circumstances or strife.  

Even Brandon.  

She now punished her own husband with silent resentment; pulling away emotionally when they made love, refusing to exhibit unscathed vulnerability.  

What the hell would come of it if she did?  

With Brandon due home in an hour or so, she reached for her cell phone and pressed the “talk” button.  

“Hey, you.”  Zuly’s voice always sounded so pleasant and reassured.  The way she used to be.  

“Hi.  Are you free for dinner in a few?  Let’s talk.” 

“Of course.  That seafood place downtown sound good to you?” 

“Yes.  I’m changing my clothes now.” 

“Great. See you soon.” 

ZULY GARZA WAS SITTING BY THE WINDOW, with a frosted mug of beer in her hand.  She glanced up and smiled as Natalie approached, immediately putting her at ease.  “Well, for someone who just changed their clothes, you look great!” 

Natalie took a seat opposite her.  “You didn’t know? I’m in constant, silent competition with you.” 

That wasn’t too much of an exaggeration - Zuly Garza bled with style.  From her bobbed, chocolate brown haircut that fell just below her chin, to her carelessly bohemian attire, which looked as though it were plucked from one of those expensive boutiques downtown.  She caught the eye of many in her wake, but didn’t seem to notice.  

“Oh, stop it.” She took a sip from her beer.  “I’m not one for small talk, so why did you want to see me?” 

“I think you already know.” 

“Natalie Greene, I’m flattered, but I was under the impression that you were married and very much in love with your husband?” 

“What? No.”  She waved her hand frantically.  She immediately remembered Zuly’s references to her lesbian lifestyle and quickly grew uncomfortable.  “I’m never switching to that side.” 

“Well, just let me know if you change your mind.  But for the real reason that you wanted to meet with me...?” 

“I’m taking you up on that job offer.” 

Zuly arched an eyebrow.  “Are you, now?” 

She nodded.  “Yes, please.” 

“And what does your husband have to say about this?” 

“He’s not going to know for awhile.” 

“Come again?” 

“You heard me.” 

“This is not going to interrupt any ‘marital bliss’, is it?” 

Natalie sighed.  “I have to do something for me.  I can’t keep waiting around all day for my husband to come home, twiddling my thumbs and shit in between.  I need something for me.”