above the ordinary golden

mickey held her hand out to receive her reward but then natalia pulled it away. "oh come on! i told you middle names were weird!" she thought about lying for a second, just make up some random name because natalia would never go over there to confirm if mickey had actually gotten her middle name. but mickey was fair and not very good at lying. "i got her wife's name, that should count for something," she said with a laugh.

"Hi Natalia," she greeted with a small smile. Her voice was as sweet as honey, a guard of sorts, for she wasn't sure how the conversation ended with Mickey after Natalia entered her room. Things seemed normal, but she thought it was best not to pry for information, seeing as it flows so freely these days.

"Can I help you find something?" She kept things cordial, choosing to believe an apology was given to Mickey. Her skepticism closed with the refrigerator door.

"I don't think it has to be good enough. I think it just has to be done," she shared honestly. It was something she felt more and more of with each passing day. Less passion, more perseverance. To get through whatever this entire week was supposed to be. If joy felt impossible, then maybe the feeling of relief that something was over and done was the next best thing.

She paused to air dry the rest of her nails, lips pursed. A beat, and then she dissolved into giggles. "I'm totally kidding! As if. He was kind of amazing though."

Frankie had loved being with Cooper, but in love with him? That question was more complicated than she usually allowed for herself. She supposed she was a little bit in love with most people she met. But when she thought about married life and feeling safe and settled, which, God, made her feel old, the image felt impossible to touch in about six different ways, and not just because her credit score was shit.

She held up her hands to inspect Natalia's handiwork. Each nail was glossy and smooth, but it wasn't the flawless finish that made the manicure satisfying. It was the warmth from Natalia's hand still lingering on Frankie's own, the hint of playfulness dancing along the edges of Natalia's voice. The kind of closeness Frankie had always imagined was cultivated between sisters.

"I'd want you all at my wedding, so a shotgun wedding would never work." Not a shred of half-truth, only conviction. "And I really did need to get to DC for graduation. I know Angus is like Vik, Sama, or Mick and graduating with a fancy degree is like, this inevitable conclusion, but it was still big. Oh my god, I couldn't stop crying. Him! In his little graduation cap! Of course, trying to look so serious."

"Anyway. I went to DC, Cooper went to Tahiti, and that was it." Love, even sort-of love, was like that sometimes. Cooper would say that surfing, like life, was all about timing. "We still email. He posts up at local web cafes to send me photos of different beaches he's visited and it's only given me a virus, like, once."

“Thank God." She let out a breath of relief, lightly swatting Frankie’s leg for joking with her like that, a smile tugging at her lips.

She paused for a moment, touched by the fact that Frankie would want every ward present on such her special day. Then again, it seemed almost unimaginable for them to not be together on a day like that, especially for Frankie.

Natalia chuckled, picturing Angus with a little graduation cap on. “You know, sometimes I wonder if he was born with that look on his face." So serious, like Frankie said. Perpetually caught somewhere between constipation and concern. "Did you take him out to celebrate after?” Frankie was pretty exceptional at getting people to loosen up after all. If anyone could untense Angus, it was probably her.

She nodded when Frankie revealed how her love story with Cooper came to an end, only making a bit of a face when Frankie mentioned one of the photos Cooper sent her gave her a virus but ultimately moved past it.

“That’s… a modern love story if I’ve ever heard one,” Natalia said, settling for the least judgmental thing to say. They were having a nice moment after all. "Far more romantic than anything I've experienced anyway. I just have a string of French men that got way too clingy and my old ex from high school who would probably drop everything if I told him I wanted him back." Her eyes widened dramatically at the thought of it. God, she hoped Hayes has moved on. It's been 10 years.

"I'm thinking… Debussy. Clair de Lune."

It was an easy choice. One of the most popular and overplayed piano classics. A piece she was positive she could play well as she once did after a few hours of painstaking practice.

"Richard really liked it," she added, giving more context for her choice. After all, this silly little talent show they were having was supposed to honor his love for the arts, right? It seemed fitting.

Green eyes caught the way Kamon was picking at his nails. Natalia didn't like it when people did that. It was a ghastly habit. But it wasn't irritation she felt as she watched him. It was... concern. So gently, she reached over and placed her hand over his, stilling his fingers.

"You shouldn’t pick at your nails," she advised. Her voice soft. Kind. With the closeness that's developed between them in their adulthood, she's learned to be less... abrasive when it came to Kamon. He was sensitive in a way that made her want to be careful, not annoyed.

"What’s up with you?" She finally asked. "I know it’s been… hard." An understatement. "These last few days. But… you seem…" She hesitated, searching for the right way to describe it. "…really removed?" It still didn't feel right to her but it was the closest she could get in the moment.

taking a sip of her beer, she nearly spit it out at natalia's challenge. "i- what?" she looked over to the woman she was pointing out. she wasn't unattractive but the idea of going up to a stranger and flirting with her without knowing if she was gay or some homophobic townie was scary. mickey hasn't flirted with anyone since she met jessica and even with jessica, she was oblivious to the face that jessica actually liked her. but...tonight was about having fun and mickey was very easily persuaded. "okay, deal. but asking for a middle name is weird."

Lifting her drink up to her mouth for a sip, she urged Mickey forward with the raise of her brows, watching with bubbling amusement as the other ward made her to the other side of the room. Did she feel concern that this could go very terribly? Some, admittedly. Anything could happen in a townie bar in upstate New York. But she also figured with a mind as big as hers, Mickey could be quick on her feet and find a way to diffuse the situation if it went awry.

Natalia watched the scene like a judge on a panel, issuing points for things she believed were positive about the exchange. Smiles. Laughter. An actual back-and-forth. Amiable seeming at that. It wasn't until Mickey was walking towards her with a wide grin on her face that Natalia remembered she'd put money on this.

"A wife?" Natalia looked impressed. "I knew I was right about those overalls." She reached into her purse and procured a crisp twenty to hand Mickey. But just before she let the bill touch the other ward's palm, Natalia stopped and reminded her there were two conditions to winning the twenty dollar prize. "What's her middle name?"

She slipped her hand into Natalia's elegant, long-fingered one and pulled up her legs. Her chin came to rest on the tops of her knees. She caught her bottom lip behind her teeth in a sly smile, incisors peeking out, and drew her vowels long in a poor Australian imitation, "Coop-ah."

"He's a surfer. He was passing through Amsterdam after catching waves in Nazaré, and I was trying to figure out where I wanted to head next. I'd just been in Dublin, there was this thing with Bono." Her free hand fluttered in the air, dismissing the details. "Anyway."

"We were both trying to check into the same hostel at the same time, but there was only one bed left. So he's all," she pitched her voice low, "'No, you take it' and I'm like," then high, "'No way, you take it'. Like I'm not going to put him out on the street? So then finally I was like, 'Let's go Dutch,'" Frankie laughed.

"So then we just kind of...stuck together. We shared the bed, meals. Split a joint." Her eyes, fixated on Natalia's meticulous work, drifted to the past again, this time to a better place, with wandering canals and rainbow buildings that crowded into one another. It had felt the same with Cooper, they were each their own narrow home, built up with a different combination of rooms decorated in a singular style, pressed shoulder to shoulder in a small twin bed.

Some people traveled so they could make themselves seem bigger as they took credit for things they had seen and now knew. You haven't been to the blah-blah-blah? You don't know that such-and-such was invented here-or-there in ye olde whatever B.C.? But travel for Frankie had been about experiences, and more precisely the people that made them. There was something to arriving in a place you had never been and knowing that by the time you left, you would have at least one new friend. It made her feel full.

"He's nice, he's funny, he thinks I'm cute and he says so. And he's all muscles and bronzed from the sun, so, duh. I obviously think he's cute too." Amid a torrent of words, Frankie paused. Mischief creeped across her face, tilting her head, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "We just get along, and it's like– you know when you like someone? And sure, there's what you're saying, but there's also all the stuff you're not, like when you can feel them looking at you or you're trying not to look at them but you want to so bad. Or when you just know they're going to kiss you, but somehow at the same time you're unsure it's actually going to happen and oh my god!" A shiver rippled through her, all the way down to her wiggling her toes. "I feel like some people think it's scary, but I think it's fun."

"So we're, you know, 'having fun' together. A lot. And then we're in this coffeehouse that smells like patchouli and has all these colorful drapes and we're admittedly pretty high. And he's looking at me with these big, sexy brown eyes and tells me he's making his way out to Taghazout in a few days and will I come with him? And I thought about that movie Richard loves. You know the one, Casablanca?" A simple shrug. "So I said let's do it."

After fixing the one nail, she figured might as well do another, and then another after that. Before long, she was plainly doing Frankie's nails for her. Not that Natalia minded. Honestly, it was rather relaxing. The repetitive motion of the brush gliding across each nail was just the decompression she needed after the hours she'd spent practicing Debussy on the piano. Each stroke deliberate, mindful. The rouge polish glistened on Frankie's nails.

It’s like—you know when you like someone? And sure, there’s what you’re saying, but there’s also all the stuff you’re not, like when you can feel them looking at you or you’re trying not to look at them, but you want to so bad. Or when you just know they’re going to kiss you, but somehow at the same time, you’re unsure if it’s actually going to happen.

Natalia couldn’t help but let her mind wander to Genevieve. She had weirdly, and albeit inappropriately, experienced a similar thing with her boss before they both bit the bullet and broke several HR rules meant to keep that exact behavior out of the office. Instead of share any of it, Natalia only allowed her mouth to curl slightly at one side, passing it off as being amused by Frankie’s giddiness.

When her story came to its end, Casablanca mention and all, Frankie’s nails were done, and Natalia found she was pleasantly entertained. “So, where is hot surfer man now?" She asked, screwing the top back into the bottle of polish. "This... Coop-ah person,” she said, mimicking Frankie’s earlier attempt at an Australian accent. "The way you went on about him, I half-expected you to tell me you guys got hitched on the way to Taghazout."

"maybe..." she said, shrugging. "but not romeo and juliet. i think i've grown a bit sick of it." that had been the last time she saw richard, discussing directing choices, trading quips about iambic pentameter. "maybe i'll read one of the sonnets. he always liked those... anyways, what are you doing? i remember you being quite the talented pianist." eliza herself had never stuck to the instrument, though she was passionately mediocre at it.

Natalia hummed. "Yeah, I'll be playing piece on the piano. It's been a while since I've practiced but I don't have much else." Bringing a horse in was out of the question, and it's been far too long since she's done any gymnastics. Did she even have a leotard in her closet?

"I do wonder if we should be concerned about Mrs. Tristan though. This is arguably the most startling reaction to grief I've seen so far," she said, voicing what no doubt was a thought that crossed at least a few of the wards' minds.

"How about a small break to reset?"

It was a question she'd asked him countless times before, back when they worked together and she could sense his stress building. She'd always found it easier to coax him into a pause than to endure the sound of his knuckle-cracking or the incessant bouncing of his leg.

"What were you playing? I don't recognize it."

she doesn't push natalia when she doesn't say anything. she knew how the other girl was, she had walls higher than woodrow itself. it was nearly impossible for natalia to let someone see past them. mickey was grateful for any crack she was able to peak into. she just let it go, hoping that natalia knew how much she cared about her.

taking natalia's arm, she laughed lightly. "it's okay, deep conversations are nice, but maybe not this soon." she loved talking about richard, but it was still too fresh to really let it sink in that he was really gone. opening the door for them, she walked back into the bar. "let's get another drink and pretend were in the city, surrounded by fun, hot people to flirt with or something instead of a bunch of old townies."

"I'll give you 20 bucks if you go flirt with a townie," she told Mickey once they were standing by the counter again. "What about her, over there?" She jutted her chin toward a woman on the other side of the room. Probably in her 30s. Sandy blonde hair. Looked like someone's sporty aunt. "She's wearing overalls, that's like... a good thing, right?" Wearing overalls as an adult told Natalia one of two things: that you worked on a farm or you were gay. "Get her... middle name. And her favorite color."

Frankie dipped her chin, focusing more intently on applying a second coat to the semi-translucent lacquer already on her pinky nail. "Like I said, you just kinda end up in a place and then. Well." She lifted her shoulder in a jerky shrug. "You have to grow up eventually." She sounded uncertain.

Physically, she was here, exposed under the natural light streaming in from Natalia's bedroom window, buckling under the weight of her interest. But all at once, Frankie stumbled backward into the past. You have to grow up eventually, Francesca. She was small and disappointing in the velvet and oak chair opposite the imposing desk in Richard's study. How could you? She was the child who had snuck one too many cookies out of the cookie jar.

No, she was the child who had smashed the jar and made away with her bounty, leaving behind only cutting shards.

"I'm not, like, an executive or anything." Or had she told Celia she had been promoted? But maybe that had been when she had implied she was teaching English. Just underneath the heat of embarrassment, a cold, hollow feeling was creeping up. An isolating and lonely chill, one she recognized but also felt like a long time ago. "I mean–" She moved to scratch her nose self-consciously, only to smudge the polish on her index finger. "Fuck. I just. It's not that interesting. Seriously."

That would have been believable if it felt as though Frankie had grown up at all. Though the other ward was older, Natalia always felt like the more put-together one. The 'adult' in the room.

"Okay, jeez..." she relented, though the thought lingered. You’d be a fool not to think something was off. But, fortunately for Frankie, Natalia wasn’t in the mood to poke and prod. She was still worn out from her night with Mickey. The hours of piano rehearsals didn't help. For the time being, she was of the not my circus, not my monkeys mindset. She'd ask more at a later time if she found she still cared.

"exactly, it was very different. i got used to it after awhile, but it was strange to meet people who didn't understand me or the way we grew up." maybe that was why she fell so hard for jessica, she was the first person to show her attention and like her, of course mickey would fall in love with her. "sometimes i wish i went to the private school like you and the others, but it was so hard for me to focus and learn in traditional schools. my teachers before woodrow all hated me."

hearing natalia's confession, mickey couldn't help but feel her heart break a little. or maybe that was just the alcohol talking. "natalia..." she said softly. "you never had to keep up with us. we were just kids and we're all different people. i know there was a lot of pressure on us growing up, but you were great in your own ways. i looked up to you when we were younger, i still do. you were always so well behaved, even if i hated how you would scold me and reece and meera. you helped my learn english when everyone else just ignored me. even now, you're working for a famous fashion designer on paris of all places. you are talented in ways i could never be." she was looking at natalia all while she was saying this and when she got to the last part, she felt her throat tighten a little and had to look away. she forced herself to take a hit of the cigarette just to push away the emotions she was feeling.

"i don't think i could ever forget the things richard taught us," she admitted, looking down at her feet. "my whole childhood... it's a lot of forgotten memories, things i don't want to remember. but richard? he was everything to me. i hope i remember everything to the day i die."

she pressed the heel of her hand into her eye, not because she was crying, but because she was worried that she might start to. flicking the cigarette away, she straightened up and turned to natalia. "ugh dieu, that got way too deep. i'm going to need another drink if we keep this up," she said with a laugh.

It was nice for Mickey to say these things, but stubbornness lived in Natalia like the chip that had yet to be pried from deep within her shoulder. Mickey couldn't understand because she was chosen by Richard after all. Plucked from a sea of misfortune for her sharp mind. Natalia was… a favor? A sad story brought in front of him by someone he knew. She wasn’t noteworthy otherwise. Her tragedy was practically the most striking thing about her. But in a house like Woodrow, where grief and pain seemed to lurk around every corner, tragedy meant nothing. In her mind, there was no choice but to try and keep up with them. How else could she feel like she deserved to be among them?

You're working for a famous fashion designer on Paris of all places. You are talented in ways I could never be. Natalia wanted to laugh. Truly, just let out the most big and bellowing laugh. Mickey had no idea. As a child, Natalia couldn’t fathom being unruly because being unruly in the house she came from meant shattered plates and yelling. She also only taught Mickey English because she needed help with Math in return; she didn’t exactly have a heart of gold. And right now, the thing that was supposedly impressive about her – a job with a famous fashion designer in Paris – she didn’t even have that. So really, there was nothing. Mickey was getting choked up over things she didn’t know the whole truth of. If Natalia was good for anything, maybe it was covering up ugly truths, fashioning them to seem pretty and digestible when they were the opposite.

It became clear very quickly to Natalia that it was a mistake to bring up Richard, even casually. Something as innocent as a question about whether or not she chose to forget a few gardening techniques has turned into a moment of vulnerability from Mickey that was sure to linger in Natalia's mind long after their fun night out came to a close.

“Yeah, maybe talking about Richard wasn’t the move,” she admitted, forcing a soft chuckle to help ease the heaviness of the moment. “I’m supposed to be cheering you up, not bumming you out. Let’s go back inside.” She put out her cigarette, hooked her arm around Mickey’s, and led her back in.