CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Marcy
We are walking out of the bookstore on Main Street, back toward the town square.
To my delight, Nick has taken my hand again, and I have a new romance novel resting in the small brown bag in the other.
He looks down at me as if he’s about to ask a question, when he is startled by a tone of voice that can only be described as affected.
“Hi Mom,” he leans in to give her a curt kiss on the cheek and shakes the man’s hand. His Parents? “Dad, how are you guys?” Nick’s demeanor has completely changed. He is stiff and robotic in the interaction, nothing like the guy I have been spending the past couple of hours with.
“Oh, we are good honey, just came to check out the festival, get out of the house, you know how it is. What are you doing here?”
“I told you guys last time we talked that I would be in North River for work. I am here for a couple more months. I tried calling you a couple times last week actually and never heard back.” Nick states, not looking in my direction.
I give his hand an extra squeeze, hoping he remembers to breathe, but he doesn’t acknowledge the effort.
What is this reaction about?
His Dad cuts in, “You know how it is son; we have been busy, sorry about not calling you back. We have had some committee meetings, had to hire a new landscaper, it’s just been one thing after the other. No hard feelings.” A statement, not a question.
“Right, so much going on Nicholas. And who is this lovely person?” His mother asks as her eyes rake over me.
Eyes the same color as Nick’s. It’s a stare down that leaves me feeling naked, and not in a pleasant way.
I try and keep calm for Nick but am starting to fidget my rings around the handle of my bag.
“This is my friend, Marcy. She’s a social worker at North River Hospital. Marcy, these are my parents, Lynn and John Anderson.” I reach out to shake their hands, which they return.
“So nice to meet you both. Nick has been such a positive influence at the hospital, you must be proud of his work.” They look at me like they have no idea what I’m talking about. Polite nods exchanged.
“Well Nick was always a hard worker. Wanted that dedication at our firm, but he’s made his choices.
I’m sure he does fine.” His father shares, dismissing any sentiment of pride in his son, almost as if Nick chose to go into competitive eating rather than trying to save rural healthcare facilities.
I look to Nick, whose chest and shoulders have been carrying such pride all afternoon but are now hanging. Deflated.
I am determined to turn this around, as Nick has now gone silent.
I put on my work persona and find that feigned assurance I need from time to time.
“Well, we were just thinking about getting a drink or a late lunch, any interest in joining us?” I couldn’t help myself; I am so curious about the way Nick is reacting.
These are his parents, they raised such a positive light in the world, how bad could they be?
“Oh, that is so dear, Macy.” His Mom starts.
Not my name, but okay. “But we just ate and wouldn’t want to impose.
Plus, we know how it is with Nicholas, ‘shiny new toy’ and all that.
Don’t want to go getting attached to you, dear.
You two have a lovely afternoon, though.
Your father and I are on the way to the silent auction at the Art Guild and then we must be getting home.
Lovely to see you, Nicholas. Tell your brother we said hello.
” And just like that, they walked down the street, away from their son, as if he were any other acquaintance they could have happened upon.
Nick continues to say nothing, like he is in shock. His demeanor still completely at odds with every previous interaction we shared. I don’t know what to say.
“Well…They seemed, nice?” I try and elicit any response from him.
“They were terrible, Marcy. It’s fine. They are always terrible, it should come as a surprise to no one, least of all me.” He’s looking anywhere but in my direction, appearing lost in thought, not at all the confident and collected man who kept taking my hand today, making me laugh and feel safe.
“Let’s go sit somewhere and calm down.” I suggest. He nods and follows me toward Harolds.
The shop is busy with the crowd from the festival, and Gary and Stan can be heard fraternizing with the customers from the counter.
I tell him to wait by the door and then sneak behind the counter to grab two large chocolate chip cookies.
By sneak, I mean Gary sees me and is ready with two cookies hiding behind his back to hand off to me.
I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and head back out to Nick.
“That was stop number one, let’s go to stop number two.” I walk him to Brothers Bar, which doesn’t open for another 30 mins, but when the bartender, Ted, sees me outside, he takes notice of the distressed look on my face and comes to the door.
“Yes, Marcy? What can I do for you?” Ted eyes me warily, noting my despondent friend behind me.
“Any chance you would take pity on us and give us a head start? It’s a bit of an emergency, really.”
“A beer emergency, Marcy?”
“Yes, we had an extra stressful parental interaction, really pulling the mood down.” Nick is on another planet.
“You couldn’t relate, could you?” Ted grew up on the same street I did, and although I have never learned all the details of his family life, I know from watching him get on the bus with me for years that we had gone through some similar struggles.
Poor fitting clothes, no lunches, although Ted would sometimes sport some bruises with mysterious origins.
He and I never had a direct conversation about our upbringings, but there has always been an unspoken, mutual recognition there.
“Come on in, sit on the far side of the bar so people don’t see you.”
“You’re a life saver.”
“Don’t mention it. Two beers coming right up.” Ted puts down our drinks and disappears to the kitchen.
We sit, and Nick is sweating and jittery.
I hold his hand, putting my other on his back.
“Nick, you don’t have to say anything, but can you take some deep breaths with me?
” He follows my cues, and his shaking starts to ease a bit.
“Great, now if you can, I want you to try and focus on just you and me, sitting at this bar. Can you tell me about this stool here?”
He doesn’t say anything, and I don’t push. His body is calming, breathing seems back to normal. He finally looks at me and speaks. “What are you doing Marcy? This isn’t necessary.”
“I think I’m helping you through a little panic attack, Nick.
This might not surprise you, but I have had a few myself.
” There’s a sheen to his blue eyes as they lock on mine, and he gives a faint nod in understanding.
A stark juxtaposition between the vulnerable softness of him now and the bold poise of our time together, before hurricane parents ran through us.
“I’m sorry that the day took a turn, I’m embarrassed. I was having a great time and now its ruined. I can just walk you home and we can forget the whole day happened.” He speaks in defeat.
Now I am getting annoyed. “Forget the whole day happened? I was having a nice time until about 30 minutes ago. It was more than nice, it was great. What happened back there?” He shifts his weight on his stool, bringing his elbows to the bar top, picking at the label on the side of his beer.
“My parents, they obviously aren’t too impressed with me.
I was supposed to follow in my dad’s footsteps, work at his financial planning firm, marry a girl with a house on Lake Minnetonka, make the real money, carry on his legacy.
Let’s just say, from a young age, I made it clear those weren’t my plans, and have paid for it since. ” He takes a deep swig from his beer.
“When did you tell them you weren’t interested in that life?”
“I knew by my freshman year in high school that I wanted a different path from the one they laid out for me. I liked numbers well enough, but I hated the social circles that my parents are still involved in. I didn’t want my life to become country club memberships and superficial relationships.
Their priority is money over everything else.
” So, I guess my vision of Nick growing up with the perfect family life was a little skewed.
“That hardly seems fair, Nick. You are an adult; it is your life.”
“I know, it isn’t my job to live up to their expectations, but that’s the thing about being someone’s child, isn’t it?
No matter how old you get, they will always be your parents.
Good or bad. For me, it’s been more bad than good since I acquired any semblance of self-awareness or critical thinking.
” He finishes his beer in a couple more gulps. I wave Ted down for another round.
“Yeah, I noticed your mom doesn’t hold back much.”
“Oh Marcy,” Nick puts his forehead on the bar “I am so sorry about her. It was nice that you offered to spend time with them, but their rejection wasn’t personal.
That’s about me, nothing to do with you.
” I nodded, but did want to revisit this topic eventually.
“Shiny new toy” wasn’t exactly a moniker I was comfortable with.
And even his nearly estranged parents were aware of his reputation?
Yikes. I take another swig from my beer too.
“Where do you go?” I ask him.
“What do you mean?”
“After that interaction with them, you weren’t yourself. You were lost, and deflated, and I couldn’t recognize you anymore.” Maybe this was getting too personal, but I was struggling to understand how his mood can switch so quickly. Plus, I knew that look, that lost look.
“Right.” He stills. “Well, my therapist thinks that I tend to regress around my parents. That no matter the pride I have in my work and how my life has gone up until this point, around them I turn back into the teenager that never felt like I was enough around them. Grades not good enough, girls they didn’t approve of, goals they couldn’t understand.
So, I tend to shut down and haven’t yet stood up for myself. ”
“You see a therapist?” I ask.
“It’s 2025 Marcy, everyone should be seeing a therapist.” He says so casually, if only he knew what a turn on that response was. The second beer bottle label falls from his bottle.
“What stops you from standing up for yourself?” I ask.
“Do you remember our meeting with Keith? Where I was a bit…harsh with him?” He sighs deeply.
I nod, of course I remember. “Yes, I do.”
“Well, I don’t love that side of me. Honestly, I haven’t lashed out like that in years, I just…
” He pauses and looks away from me like he’s in pain.
“Anyway, I’m afraid that if I start standing up for myself, it could be the end of my relationship with them, and I don’t know if I am ready for an end yet, even if they do make me somewhat miserable.
” It resonates, especially since I didn’t have parents of my own anymore.
I would want them back, especially my mom, even if she was still making my life miserable.
“What made you react that way with Keith, by the way?” I knew it was a loaded question, starting to tread in some territory that maybe neither one of us was ready to explore. He had been holding my hand today though, and that felt like something. Something more than friends.
“Well, I don’t love that I took it there.
It’s the first time that has happened in years, like I said.
Never happened in a work environment before, but there was something about the way he was dismissing you that struck a nerve.
I know that feeling all too well.” He paused for a breath and another drink of his beer.
“I think you can tell already Marcy, but I do think you are special. You are smart, talented, and you have strong instincts. He shouldn’t have tried to make you feel anyway but empowered.
That’s one of our biggest jobs as administrators, empowering the people around us to own their work.
” He pauses again, looking down at his bottle for a moment before turning to me.
“It turns out that I have a bit of a soft spot when it comes to you, and he poked it. I felt protective, even if that wasn’t appropriate.
That might be the reason.” His admission makes my knees weaken, and I am thankful for the support of the bar stool.
I put my hand over his, rubbing my thumb against his wrist, tracing a wrinkle there.
He returns my gesture with a half-convincing smile and stands like he is going leave.
“Well, it was a bit of a switch from the sunshine you typically project.” I admit.
“Sunshine, huh?” He gives a little more of a grin but looks to the floor.
“Well, I prefer feeling sunny, especially when I am around you. I won’t let anyone disrespect you though.
” He looks at me now, our eyes hanging on each other.
“I had a great afternoon, sorry for how it ended. Enjoy the rest of your beer, but I think I am going to head back to the hotel. I’m not exactly great company at the moment, I need to regroup.
See you at work?” I debate begging him to stay, to keep talking with me, but can tell that he’s uncomfortable and I know that feeling too well.
“Sure, see you at work.” He gives me hand a gentle squeeze, and I watch him leave, his back and shoulders still not recovered from the proverbial punch in the gut by his parents.
Seeing this vulnerable side of him has left my heart aching.
He clearly feels he needs to go through things alone, a challenge I find myself battling often.
I yell for him, “Hey Nick,” he turns back, “It’s okay to not be sunshine all the time…to feel a little cloudy.” His shoulders rise a little and that half smile returns under a beard now mussed from his stress.
“Okay Marcy, I’ll try and remember that.” And he walks out the door.
Maybe he and I have more in common than I thought.