Changed Somehow

by Chloe Flanagan

  He stormed toward the door. “I’m leaving for an hour. When I get back, I expect you to be gone.”

  4

  Of course it would be raining.

  City rain always looked so romantic in the movies, but it wasn’t. There was nothing romantic about water gushing from the sky like a busted pipe in a South Bronx apartment building.

  It had only taken Natalie a half hour to pack her bags and leave Sebastian’s apartment. Seething with rage had made her work incredibly efficiently, for some reason.

  But now that she was outside, her mind was awash with the cold truth that she had no clue what to do next, apart from renting a bus station locker to keep her meager possessions safe until she figured it out.

  The weather prevented her from taking the long walk she really needed, so she settled for taking refuge in a movie house that was showing an all-night independent film marathon.

  Scores of men and women in business suits marched across the screen in the opening of the first film, an understated critique of corporate greed simply titled, Heartless. The plot and acting were not enough to hold her attention, though.

  Heartless.

  Marlowe had accused her of having no heart. Maybe he was right. Sometimes she wondered. And tonight, she wondered if she had a brain either. It had been stupid to pick a fight with Sebastian while she was without income. She had a little bit in the bank, but it wouldn’t last long in Manhattan.

  She’d probably have to get a motel room for the time being since she didn’t have any family or friends to stay with. Friends didn’t come easily.

  “I asked for that file half an hour ago!” the business executive on the screen bellowed at his assistant.

  The assistant, played by a young blonde, wore a matronly cardigan with her hair swept up in a bun to make her look older, but her childish facial features belied the attempt.

  Natalie studied the girl. She sort of resembled Kyla, the last person she had made friends with. Kyla was a cute, sweet eighteen-year-old actress just starting out. She and Natalie had worked together on a limited-run play several months before. As was often the case, Natalie had been between living arrangements when she met Kyla. Hearing that the girl was short a roommate in her Bronx apartment, Natalie had conveniently decided to get to know her better.

  Kyla had been so grateful for Natalie’s advice and occasional coaching that she had gladly agreed to let Natalie replace the missing roommate.

  All in all, it had been a good symbiosis. Natalie had a cheap place to stay, and Kyla had benefited from her experience.

  But then, Sebastian Claypool had walked onto the scene. He’d been cast in the play as a last-minute replacement. Kyla had been instantly enamored with the handsome actor with the toothpaste-commercial smile. What’s more, he had really seemed to like her too, and they had dated for several weeks.

  But right from the beginning, Natalie had noticed more than Sebastian’s pearly whites. He always wore simple, yet high quality leather shoes and designer clothes. Then there was that old money Connecticut accent he could never completely conceal. All of those things had sailed over Kyla’s head, but Natalie had recognized them for what they were: evidence that Sebastian had come from privilege.

  It had been ridiculously easy to insinuate herself between the young couple and ensnare Sebastian. All it had taken was a suggestive look here, a little ego stroking there, with a provocative outfit or two thrown in for good measure, and Sebastian had dumped Kyla and asked Natalie to move in with him.

  The young blonde actress on the screen fled to her desk and burst into tears to lament her plight as an underpaid, undervalued cog in the tyrannical wheel of her boss’s money-grabbing enterprise.

  Had Kyla cried after Sebastian left? She really was a sweet girl, who no more deserved Natalie’s betrayal—yes, betrayal—than the poor girl on screen deserved her lot in life.

  Was this what regret felt like? It seemed so strange. Ordinarily, she didn’t spare time for such things. It had always been easy enough to justify her actions with a simple creed: The world is a nasty place and sometimes you have to be nasty to endure it. But this rationalization didn’t feel as convincing as it once had.

  To her relief, the young blonde actress’s scene ended and Natalie let her mind become a blank as she finished the film and two others after that.

  Hours later, when she left the theater, she had reached no definite conclusion except that she was ravenous, so she sloshed through puddles for several blocks until she reached an all-night diner.

  5

  The diner was empty, except for two female police officers, who sat at the counter and spared Natalie a glance before going back to their morning coffee.

  She slid into a vinyl booth and studied the menu. It was usual diner fare.

  In no mood to worry about her waistline, she ordered a hamburger along with a coffee to help take the edge off the chill the spring downpour had created. As she waited for her order, she took in the atmosphere. The air was heavy with the unmistakable smell of fried food and an undercurrent of something sweet and buttery. The delicious aroma was probably emanating from the display case of pies that stood in the corner.

  It was just like Betty’s.

  The small town in upstate New York where Natalie grew up had offered few job opportunities for young people. But Natalie had found steady employment all through high school at Betty’s Diner. She had even gone back to it from time to time when things got rocky in the city. Betty always welcomed her back, no questions asked.

  The ashy, balding man that doubled as a waiter and short order cook set a large burger in front of her, but as she stared down at it, her appetite began to wane. With her finances in the state they were, there was a good chance she’d have to go back home now. Going back to wait tables at this stage of her career and life was embarrassing, yes, but the more disturbing part was the realization that she would have to go back to her mom’s house too.

  Wasn’t her mom going to love that? After months without a phone call, Natalie would once again show up on the front doorstep asking for a rent-free bed.

  She took a nibble of her burger and a long drought of the piping hot coffee and pulled out her cellphone. Maybe it would be best to call ahead this time. At this hour, her mom was probably reading her morning paper before getting ready for her factory job.

  The phone rang twice and her mom answered, “Hello?”

  Her voice sounded smaller, more tired than it had the last time Natalie had spoken to her, but it still carried the undeniable little smoker’s rasp that had characterized Diane Rivers for as long as Natalie could remember.

  Her heart gave an unexpected lurch and her eyes began to swim at the sound of her mom’s voice. It had been so long.

  She suppressed the sudden urge to spill her guts right away. “Hey, Mom.”

  “Natalie?” Her tone went up an incredulous note. “I didn’t recognize the number. Did you change it again?”

  “That’s right. How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine.”

  There was a beat of silence as she struggled to figure out where to start. “How is work?” she stalled.

  “Well, work is work. But they moved Cheryl up, and I’ll be taking her place. Tom says I shouldn’t have to work so many hours then.”

  “That’s good.”

  “No complaints from me.”

  Her mom’s voice brightened a little. “What play are you in now?”

  There it was. Time to break the news. “I’m in between plays right now, Mom. Things have been ... stressful.”

  “Oh yes. I’m sure having your dream career in New York City is very stressful.” Her words were loaded with sarcasm.

  “It’s not that simple. I feel …” Natalie choked. “I feel like this career is my whole life, and I’m missing something.”

  It was a weak and insufficient way to describe the gaping emptiness she’d felt deep in her gut ever since her argument with Marlowe, but at least she’d been hones
t about her feelings with her mom for once. Maybe, just maybe, the older woman could decipher a trace of the pain in her voice.

  “Look, Natalie. That’s the kind of attitude that made me miss out on my career; made me chase after your father instead of following my dreams. You saw how that turned out.”

  “I know, I know, Mom. I’m just … tired all of a sudden.”

  “Well that’s part of working hard, Natalie. I don’t know why you never seemed to get that. You always wanted everything handed to you.”

  Natalie squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t really argue with that. Fat teardrops began to trickle through her eyelashes and sting her lids. But she swallowed down the emotion and steadied her voice. “I’m sorry Mom, but I’ve gotta go now. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  Natalie ended the call without waiting for a response and threw the phone into her tote bag. The tears were streaming freely now.

  Every time she tried to talk to her mom about her feelings, she ended up feeling exposed and ridiculous, like she was walking the streets in the winter sleet in a spaghetti strap top.

  Even when she was young, as young as she could remember, her mom had taken care of her materially, but had rarely offered maternal comfort or understanding when she was hurting. Why should this be any different?

  There was no way she could go back there right now.

  So now, she was right back at the beginning of her dilemma. No home and no friends.

  Despite her best intentions, her mind drifted back to Kyla. She had killed and buried that relationship, and there was no possibility of reviving it unless … Her skin began to prickle, the way it usually did when she had an idea.

  She’d willingly sacrificed the friendship to catch Sebastian, but they weren’t together now. Maybe there was an angle there. She could tell Kyla that Sebastian had dumped Natalie because, deep down, he was still in love with Kyla. Natalie could assume the role of gracious loser and offer to help Kyla win Sebastian back.

  Kyla was young and naïve—albeit a little less so, thanks to her—but still enough that she would probably buy the story.

  Natalie gazed out the diner window as she continued to ponder her plan. The sun was finally coming up, as evidenced by the brighter hue that cloaked the surrounding buildings, but thanks to the lingering clouds, everything was only a different variation of gray.

  All at once, exhaustion lowered over her like a heavy stage curtain. But not from hard work. Her mom was right about that. She had cheated and tricked her way into all kinds of things, but it had never been enough. And for the first time, she was just too tired to do it anymore.

  Slowly, her eyes closed, and her head nodded forward.

  “Hey!”

  Natalie’s eyes snapped open, and she shifted to face the counter. The cook was pointing a chubby finger at her. “You can’t sleep here. Does this look like an Airbnb to you?”

  Her eyes widened at the man’s question, her mind coming to life again. She managed to conjure a smile. “Sorry about that, honey.” She drew out the endearment in a deep, breathy tone, prompting his bushy eyebrows to go up.

  “If you’ll bring me one more cup of that incredible coffee, I’ll be on my way.”

  With almost cartoonish haste, he grabbed the coffee pot and rushed to her table to pour. His lips curled in a grin to reveal a row of nicotine-stained teeth. But she didn’t hesitate to return it. The greasy little man had given her an idea.

  6

  Natalie surveyed the tall, lean thirty-something man in tight fitting pants who was showing her around the apartment he was renting out on Airbnb. He smoothed a hand over his buzzed hair, calling her attention to the small golden stud that adorned his right ear.

  She really wanted a few answers, but her instincts told her he wasn’t the type to fall for her womanly charms. Better try a different tactic. “This place is amazing, Jaden,” she gushed. “And I adore the elegant touches everywhere. Did you have a designer do all this?”

  His face flushed as he raised a pale hand to his chest and tittered. “Oh, no. I threw it together myself. But thanks! I think it has a nice vibe.”

  “Oh, my goodness. It totally does! But come on, I am dying to know,” she leaned toward him conspiratorially. “Why would you be willing to rent out such a gorgeous place so cheaply? Is there something sketchy about the building?”

  He took a step back and swallowed. “Ah, well, no.” Absently, he brushed a hand across his lips. “No, of course not. Does it look like a sketchy building?”

  Hmm. Evasive. “No, it doesn’t,” she admitted. “I suppose I’ll have to take my chances.” She narrowed her eyes. “As to any surprises this place might be hiding … I can document them in my review.”

  He sighed and planted his hands on his hips. “Look, darling, you can document whatever you want on your review. But be sure to point out that you got three weeks in an East Village apartment for a steal.”

  She raised what was meant to be an imposing eyebrow at him, but really didn’t have the energy to carry it off. Besides, he had a point.

  Once Jaden had finished giving her keys and instructions, he hurried out the door, leaving her to explore the space alone.

  It had a sunken living room with neutral-colored carpet and furnishings accented with plush, blue and yellow throw pillows. The galley-style kitchen, while small, had top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances that were more than sufficient to prepare any meal she could think of.

  Passing the bathroom, she swept an admiring eye over the clean, white tile and glass shower with a luxurious rain showerhead.

  It was still nearly impossible to believe her good fortune.

  The diner cook’s snide remark about Airbnb had reminded her that Sebastian had once used the website to find them lodging when they’d taken a weekend trip to the Poconos. He’d talked up the benefits of staying someplace cozy, rented out by homeowners, instead of a cold, sterile hotel room.

  Naturally, he had then spent the entire trip complaining about the lack of amenities. But she was nowhere near as high maintenance as he was, so before leaving the diner, she had pulled out her laptop—a gift from Sebastian—and searched Airbnb for a place to stay for a couple of weeks.

  To her astonishment, amid the tiny Queens and Brooklyn rooms in her price range, there was a listing for a classy Greenwich Village apartment. She’d studied the pictures and details for a long time, trying to figure out what was wrong with it. But it was too good an opportunity to sit and ruminate over for very long, so she’d decided to jump on it.

  After that, she’d gone to the closest pawnshop and sold Sebastian’s laptop for a little extra cash to cushion her budget.

  Once she made it to the bedroom, she sank down onto the bed, her bones and muscles melting into the cushiony linens. It was exactly the kind of place she would have chosen for herself. What were the chances? It really was too good to be true.

  Her mind roamed idly over possible explanations. Was there a leaky ceiling? A creepy maintenance guy? Once, she’d done a short run play at an experimental theater about a psychotic couple that performed bizarre science experiments on their bed-and-breakfast guests. Had she stumbled onto something like that?

  Before her thoughts could settle on any more irrational speculations, she slowly drifted off into a deep sleep.

  7

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  “It’s almost time for your shift, Natalie. Now hurry up and get changed.”

  Her mom turned away and began a rhythmic banging on the exposed pipes behind the shower wall.

  “But, mom, I thought maybe I could take off work tonight. We could celebrate.”

  “There’s no time for that. I want to get this fixed before I have to go to work.“

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Natalie woke with a jolt and sat up to look around at the bedroom she occupied alone.

  What on earth?

  Oh, right. The Village apartment. Now that was a pleasant awakening, compared to the o
ne she was used to.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Except for the thumping.

  It sounded like a nearby neighbor was jumping on a trampoline or something.

  She eased back onto her pillow and reflected on her dream. What had made her revisit that particular memory? It was odd how she could still recall it all as if it had just happened.

  She had rushed home from school, glad that it was Thursday when her mom worked the night shift, since she would be home to hear Natalie’s news. She arrived at the house, to find her mom in the bathroom trying to fix a bad pipe behind the shower wall.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  “Mom,” Natalie called out behind her.

  Thump.

  “Mom!” she said louder.

  Her mom finally stopped and turned. “Hey, Natalie.”

  “Why don’t you just call a plumber to do that?”

  “You mean have some Neanderthal come in here and try to charge me five hundred bucks for something I can do myself for eighty? No, thank you.”

  Natalie didn’t argue. It was an exchange they’d had many times—really every time something went wrong with the house. Her mom went back to work.

  Thump. Thump.

  “Wait a minute, Mom. I need to tell you about the audition.”

  Her mother stopped, but didn’t turn around. “You were late, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah, but –”

  “I told you. Did they even let you try out?”

  Natalie heaved an exasperated sigh. “Yes, they let me try out.”

  “Hm. I guess if you’ve got nothing else going for you, at least you inherited your father’s charm.”

  The acid in her mom’s tone made the words sound more like a slur than a compliment, but Natalie shook it off.

  “Anyway, the point is, I got the part. I got the lead in the play!”

  Finally, her mom turned to face her. Her expression softened with that peculiar mixture of pride and regret that some parents have when they see their children fulfill their old dreams. Then, she flashed a genuine smile. “That’s great, Natalie!”