9. Natalie
CHAPTER 9
NATALIE
S unday dawns with a promise of respite, a self-imposed day of avoidance and reflection after the confusion Julian stirred within me. It's a day for grounding, for finding my footing amidst the chaos of unpacking my life—both literally and metaphorically.
Jack, ever the supportive older brother, graciously agreed to help me with the less than pleasant task of unpacking. I'm so grateful for him, especially since our parents are otherwise indisposed, gallivanting around Europe on a second honeymoon. But I can't say I blame them. I would also rather be in Europe than in my grown daughter's depressing new apartment, sorting through her most recent failure.
At least I have Jack, whose life is nearly as boring as mine is. He arrives mid-morning, armed with coffee and a teasing grin. "I was starting to think you actually lived at the Langford Building," he quips as he surveys the sea of boxes that still clutter my new apartment.
I laugh, accepting the coffee with gratitude. “Yeah, well, at least I'm getting paid to clean up that mess," I jest, knowing full well that the neglect of my personal space is a reflection of my scattered focus of late.
As we dive into the task of unpacking, the air fills with the comfortable banter that only siblings can share. Each box we open is a gamble, some revealing long-forgotten treasures, others baffling relics of past decisions. "Why on earth did I keep this?" I laugh, holding up a particularly hideous lamp that looks like it was a reject from a 1970’s garage sale.
Jack snorts, taking the lamp from me and setting it aside with exaggerated care. "Are you kidding? This is clearly the most valuable thing you own. Wouldn't want to accidentally drop it in a dumpster."
I roll my eyes at his lame sarcasm. “Are you gonna help me unpack or not?”
“Only if you tell me what’s going on with you and Julian.”
His words, startlingly direct, are totally unexpected.
I pause, heart stuttering. “He’s working on the Langford Building,” I answer, trying my best to sound disinterested. “The construction team. Did you know he had a daughter?”
Jack sighs as he drags over a new box, revealing a mess of hastily packed kitchen towels. “Yeah, her name is Aria. She’s what, six or seven now? We don’t talk much anymore. We’ve got our own lives, and the guy’s been through a lot. Things are just…different.”
I pull another box towards me, this one marked junk. While I struggle to break it open, I say, “You two used to be so close. You wanted to go off to college together and everything. Part of me thought if you'd actually gone, you'd come back married to each other at some point.”
They’d been two years above me in school. Not a lot, but enough that I’d felt a pang of disappointment when Julian had talked about going to college in New York, but neither of them were accepted. That’s what jump-started Julian to join the military instead.
“College might not have been for me,” Jack says, ignoring my jest. “But I’m doing all right for myself now. It’s not my fault colleges don’t look for my type of unique genius.”
His grin breaks through the tension, bringing laughter to my lips. I shove a box his way, nudging his shoulder on my way, and hoping his curiosity about Julian has now been satisfied.
Our laughter is cooling, smoothing over the jagged edges of recent upheavals. The lightness fades as we come across a box that's unmistakably from a different chapter of my life—one I thought I had closed. Hayden's belongings, items left behind in the wake of our broken engagement, stare back at me from the open box, a reminder of the pain and confusion that led me back to my hometown.
The room falls silent, the previous joviality replaced by a heavy solemnity. Jack's expression softens, his earlier teasing giving way to concern. "Nat, you don't have to go through that now," he offers, reaching out to close the box.
I shake my head, a determined set to my jaw. "No, it's time I deal with this. It's been hanging over me for too long." My voice is steady, but inside, I'm anything but. The presence of Hayden's things, the memories they evoke, it's all a stark reminder of the journey I've taken to get here, to this moment of reclaiming my life and space.
Jack nods, understanding my need for closure, and stands by silently, offering support as I sift through the remnants of a relationship that nearly broke me.
As I delve deeper into the box, it becomes a timeline of Hayden's presence in my life. Books he’d left unfinished, odds and ends left at my place over the years, each item a breadcrumb of a past I'm trying to move beyond. It's clear now that in the haze of my departure, I'd packed these remnants indiscriminately, not ready to sift through the memories they held.
Among the detritus, I find a photograph that stops me in my tracks. Hayden, with his carefree grin, the life of a party that's long since ended, and there I am beside him, my smile not reaching my eyes, a shadow of the person I wanted to be. It's a stark contrast, one that Jack is quick to notice.
"You've been happier since you've been back," he observes, his gaze lingering on the photograph before meeting mine. "You weren't really yourself with him."
His words resonate, a reflection of the internal transformation I've felt since returning to my roots, to a place that, for all its familiarity, feels like a new beginning.
"Forget him, Nat. Focus on now," Jack advises, his voice gentle yet firm, a beacon guiding me towards the future.
I nod, a sense of resolve settling over me. The photograph, along with Hayden's other forgotten belongings, finds its way into a separate pile. Some items might find new life through donation, a chance to be of use to someone else, unburdened by the history they carry for me. Others, like the photograph, are destined for the trash—or better yet, a bonfire—a symbolic shedding of the past that no longer serves me.
When the last of Hayden's remnants are settled into their respective destinies, I stand, my body grateful for the stretch after the prolonged crouch. Now that I've dealt with it, my whole body feels lighter, my breath coming easier, as if something had been literally weighing me down for years and I hadn't even noticed.
I head to the kitchen to brew some coffee, the familiar routine a welcome return to normalcy. Jack trails behind, but something catches his eye, and he heads back toward the box. “Missed one,” he says as he bends to pick it up. Turning it over in his hands, he asks, "Hey, is this one of his old phones?"
Curiosity piqued, I lean over to take a closer look. Indeed, it's one of the many gadgets Hayden had a habit of collecting, then abandoning for the next new thing. "I didn't even realize I had this," I admit, a flicker of amusement crossing my face.
Jack's eyes light up with a mischievous glint. "Should we see if it still works?" he suggests, half-joking but clearly intrigued by the prospect.
I consider for half a second, and then agree, Jack's mischievousness too enticing to decline. The phone, surprisingly, still holds a charge, and after a few moments plugged in, it whirs to life, a digital time capsule waiting to be explored. We huddle around the small screen, scrolling through the photos stored within. There's a mix of the mundane and the absurd—Hayden's penchant for capturing the most inane moments makes me laugh.
As we flick through the images, laughter bubbles up, genuine and freeing. There are candid shots of mutual friends, ridiculous selfies, and embarrassing things I know he’d hate me seeing. Each photo sparks a story, a memory, transforming the somber task of sifting through Hayden's leftovers into an impromptu trip down memory lane.
I can't help but think that perhaps it's a bit intrusive, this peering into Hayden's un-curated moments, but the silliness of the photos, the unguarded glimpses into the past, strip away any lingering solemnity. It feels like eavesdropping on childhood gossip, a guilty pleasure that's more about the laughter shared than the secrets uncovered.
And it's actually a bit refreshing to be able to look back at the times we spent together, able to sort out and appreciate the good times without such suffocating bitterness. Until we stumble on something that cuts our laughter short: an album cryptically titled “Jade.”
Jack's immediate reaction is caution, a protective instinct that has always been second nature to him. "Maybe we should stop," he suggests.
But something within me, a blend of curiosity and an indefinable need to know, pushes me to continue. "No, it's okay. I want to see," I insist, though my heart has already started to beat a warning rhythm against my ribcage.
Reluctantly, Jack passes the phone to my hands, watching my face rather than the screen as I open the album. The images that greet me are like a series of punches, each one knocking the wind out of me with increasing force. There's Hayden, unmistakably happy, and there beside him, in photo after photo, is another woman—Jade. Their intimacy is undeniable, captured in selfies, in stolen moments of laughter and kisses that speak of something far deeper than a mere casual encounter.
My world, so carefully rebuilt in the wake of my broken engagement, begins to crumble piece by piece as I scroll through the album. The timeline is the most damning part, with dates and places marking a relationship that not only existed but thrived in the shadows of our own. It wasn't just a one-night stand or a fleeting mistake like I was led to believe; it was an ongoing, parallel narrative to the life we were planning together.
The realization is a cold, hard lump in my throat, a mix of betrayal and sorrow that's compounded by the undeniable evidence laid out before me. The pain is different this time, not the sharp sting of a fresh wound but the deep, aching throb of an injury that's been festering, unseen, beneath the surface.
Hayden had a whole secret life with this woman.
Jack's hand on my shoulder is both grounding and heartbreakingly compassionate. "Nat, I'm so sorry," he murmurs, his voice tight with emotion. "You didn't deserve any of this."
The photos, the smiling faces, the places they visited—some of which Hayden had told me he'd wanted to visit with me—create a narrative that's as clear as it is painful. I bet the two of them just laughed until their sides split every time I was successfully left in the dark.
What a fool they made of me. And how many others knew? With how long their affair continued, it's impossible to believe that not a single one of our friends ever found out, or at least suspected. Did they all sit around together, laughing at my naivete?
Then again, I never suspected, either.
He was going to marry me and what, keep a mistress the entire time? And she was just fine with that?
The weight of the revelation sits heavy in my chest, a tangle of hurt, anger, and disbelief that threatens to overwhelm me. Yet, in the midst of the turmoil, there's a bitter kind of clarity. The pieces of a puzzle I hadn't even realized were missing fall into place, painting a picture of a relationship that was doomed long before I walked away from the altar.
Jack's attempt to comfort me feels like a lifeline thrown into turbulent waters. Yet, as I process the tidal wave of emotions crashing over me, I realize it's not sorrow that dominates; it's a fierce, burning anger.
"I can't believe this," I seethe, the words sharp and clipped. "All this time, I've been dragging around this guilt, this... this weight, thinking I was the one who ruined everything. That I pushed him away, so he…” I press my fingers to my temples, trying to reign in the throbbing rage coursing through me. “I always thought it was just one night, and Hayden sounded so sorry… I left the city, I left my job, all because being anywhere near him was too much to bear."
Jack's expression hardens, a reflection of his own rising anger on my behalf. "Hayden's always been an asshole, Nat, but this...” His jaw clenches, and he takes a deep, steadying breath before laying a hand on my shoulder. “Nat, none of it was your fault."
His words are meant to soothe, but they only fuel the fire of my indignation. I pull away from Jack with a dark chuckle. “And to think, I actually felt bad about leaving him days before the wedding! It turns out I dodged a bullet. A whole damn arsenal, even."
Jack nods slowly, clearly stuffing down his own emotion to remain calm for my sake. "You're better off without him. Far better. If I ever see that bastard again?—"
His threat hangs unfinished as my phone rings, slicing through the heated moment with the shrillness of reality calling. With a sigh, I pull the device from my pocket and glance at the caller ID. It's my boss, who despite her intensity about our work, never calls me on weekends.
"Hello?" I answer, trying to keep the frustration from my voice.
"Natalie, there's been another problem at the Langford Building," Lottie says without preamble, her voice tight with stress. "More sabotage. It's bad this time."
The news hits me like a physical blow, the anger at Hayden's betrayal momentarily eclipsed by a fresh wave of concern for the project that's become so much more than just a job to me, and the realization that Lottie has somehow learned about what's been going on. My stomach churns as this sinks in, and I stutter as I try to find the right words to smooth over the many delicate points of this situation.
The Langford Building, with all its complexities and challenges, has been my refuge, a place to lose myself in the work and forget the mess of my personal life.
Now, it seems, that sanctuary has been violated once again. And there's a possibility it could be ripped away from me all together.
“Lottie, I—I should have told you about—” I stammer nervously.
“We can deal with that later,” she interrupts, her voice rushed. “Right now, you need to get to the building ASAP.”
"I'll be right there," I say, the words automatic as I gather my things, the anger at Hayden's deception simmering beneath the surface, now joined by a renewed sense of purpose. The Langford Building needs me, and I won't let it down—not because of Hayden, not because of any vandal, not even because of the rash decision I made to hide the vandalism from my boss.
Jack watches, concern etched in his features. "I'm coming with you," he declares with full big-brother authority.
I appreciate the depth of his concern for me, and while part of me would love to have him come along, this is something I need to handle myself.
“Thanks, but I'm okay,” I decline with a timid smile. “I'm a big girl now, remember? I can do this. I have to do this.”
Jack hesitates, but eventually agrees, and I head out into the night, leaving behind the pain of Hayden's betrayal for the immediacy of a crisis that demands my attention. The drive to the Langford is a blur, rain pounding the windshield as I speed toward the building, mirroring the torrent of emotions whirling around in my mind like a hurricane.
My harbored anger propels me forward with determination and an unshakeable resolve to protect what has become so important to me.