June 2085: break free, part 2

Natty is 20. Ashley is 50, Cabe is 48.

Soundtrack: “I Want to Break Free” by Queen

One thing Natty knew—maybe the only thing she knew—was that she'd always wanted to have short hair, but was never brave enough to try it. Something drastically, dramatically short. Something that left her neck breezy and her ears bare. She'd never had short hair in her life. "I need a haircut," she told her mom. So Ashley took her downtown to her stylist.

It was a busy afternoon, and there were a few women in line ahead of them. They sat to wait, and Natty had come to dread these moments of silence with her mother in the past few days, when never before had she ever dreaded time spent with her mother. When they didn't have anything to talk about, her mother only watched her carefully, like she was trying to unravel a disturbing puzzle.

"Mom, I'm okay," Natty insisted. "If you try to feed me any more, I swear I really will throw up."

"It's more than just that, Natty. The last few phone calls I got from you were extremely worrying. You called me sobbing. You were hyperventilating. You have to know that’s not the kind of phone call I like to get from you when we’re so far away."

Natty didn't want to remember that awful night, telling Charlie what her plans were, having to stand there and break his heart like she did when all he'd ever done was love her. And Josh! Oh God, she'd completely forgotten about Josh. Poor, oblivious Josh. Natty had an icky feeling she may have broken two hearts that night.

But her mother was still talking, hands flared, a dramatic plea. "But you still haven't really said why? What made you so upset? Did something happen? Why do you need to get away from him so badly? Did Charlie do something you're not telling me?" Her eyebrows were full of accusation.

"No, Mom, he didn't do anything. Geeze, nothing like that!"

Natty always suspected her mother felt ambivalent about Charlie, at best, so this situation wasn't going to help.

Ashley sighed. Natty scrunched up her nose and refused to say anything more. She didn't know how to protest any louder that her boyfriend hadn't been beating her or cheating on her, that a girl could in fact run sobbing from a perfectly fine boyfriend. A girl could, right? Or did that make her a little insane?

Maybe she was insane. But she'd only been here for three days and it still felt too soon. She was here. That was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. It would have to be enough for now.

Ashley exhaled. "Okay. I'll stop."

"Thank you," Natty said.

She would cut it exactly the way she wanted it, and she didn’t need to worry if Charlie would like it or not. That was the point of this, to find out what she wanted, what she liked, except that in the back of her mind, of course she worried that Charlie wouldn’t like it.

But the stylist knew what he was doing, her mother insisted.

After going over his plans, he sat her down and got to work.

"Well open your eyes," Ashley said. "Take a look, it looks cute. Do you like it?"

"It's really short," Natty said.

"You wanted short. Wasn't that the point?"

"But it's just..." Natty glanced at her reflection and made a face. She thought it would make her feel different. "But it's okay. I think I like it."

It took her longer than she'd expected to see it, because the girl in the reflection might have looked different but inside she felt exactly the same. She thought she should feel something. All she felt was that her neck was maybe longer, or that her jaw looked sharper. But then when she shook her head, the light layers lifted and flew around her face. She laughed. She felt light and fluffy. She thought of dandelion seeds and cotton candy.

She liked it.

—

Her dad asked her to come along to an airshow with him. Something he probably would have taken Charlie to, had Charlie been here, and Natty knew he must have been at least a little disappointed she didn't bring him along this time. He must have always wanted a son—not that he'd ever shown any disappointment in having only a daughter—but Natty knew that with the two of them, both so reserved and logical and gleefully dorky, she couldn't have picked a more perfect hopeful son-in-law for her dad.

"I don't think mom thinks very much of Charlie right now," Natty said. "But don't be mad at him. He really didn't do anything wrong."

"I'll take your word for it," Cabe said. "You're both smart kids. I trust you'll work it out for the best, whatever that might be. And your mother just wants to help you feel better. That's all. Well, how is he? How do you think he's taking it?"

Natty didn't know, and it killed her not to know. She wanted to call him every day, several times a day, but that didn't seem like a good idea. "I don't want to confuse him," Natty said. "I think I shouldn't call him, because wouldn't that defeat the purpose of a break? But would you call him for me? Don't say I asked you to. I just want to know if he's okay."

"If that's what you want," her father said. "Of course I will."

Natty put her bathing suit on and walked down to the beach. The sand was soft, the waves still, and the water looked warm. It reminded her of the lake house where she grew up, of summers on the beach with her friends, of being in love, of belonging. When Hilary got here, it would be just like old times. They were going to have so much fun.

The sun, the warmth, the vitamin D. It was supposed to make you happier, Natty had read in some health magazine. It was supposed to make people feel good, but it only made her feel sleepy. She stretched out on her towel, eyes closing, waiting for the happiness to kick in.

—