2009

Heather Duke

Heather was having a pretty good day until a telephone call ruined everything.

The election was nearing, and the past few weeks of her life had been chaotic, with meetings, executive dinners, and photo ops causing mayhem in her schedule. Amid the tumult of running a campaign, she was finally able to get one day away from all of the stress, and God knew how much she deserved that.

In a way, campaigning for state senator made Heather feel like she was in high school all over again, with the fake smiles, the rules on how to act and how to look, and the constant eyes on her, scrutinizing every move she made, anxiously waiting to point out her mistakes; it was draining, but just like high school, this was something she had to go through, she just had to focus on the big picture.

The only meeting she had in her schedule ended faster than she expected, so Heather found herself free for the rest of the day and decided to go home and enjoy her Friday. Back in her teenage years, those days would be spent squeezing herself into a mini skirt and following Heather Chandler to whatever party her college boyfriend could get them into (she hated all of that, but high school was as political as her campaign, and she knew that as long as she sucked up to Chandler she would always be on the top) but at 37 years old, her Friday nights were very different.

The simple pleasure of being home with her wife and their dog was enough to relax Heather, and as she cuddled on the couch to watch a movie with Ava, she could feel all of her problems dissipating, until the strident noise of the telephone ringing burst their happy bubble, startling both Heather and her wife, and waking up the poor dog.

Heather cursed under her breath and got up from the couch, instantly missing the warmth of Ava's arms as she walked to her office.

"Heather Duke," Heather said automatically, so used to answering phone calls at that point that it became something almost robotic.

"Hey, it's Veronica," said the all too familiar voice.

"What happened to the 'let's not stay in touch' rule? You're the one who suggested it," Heather said in lieu of a greeting.

"Trust me, I want to keep it that way... " Veronica replied, her attitude as ornery as Heather's. A long time ago, they would spend hours on the phone gossiping about mundane things, but things changed over the years. "But something came up and I need to talk to you."

Duke massaged her temples, already feeling a headache coming. "Are you in Sherwood?"

"Yes."

"I can't just drop everything now and drive two and a half hours to meet you, Veronica." Heather huffed. "How about tomorrow night at 7, at the diner?"

A second passed before Veronica responded with a "Yeah, whatever. See you there."

"Bye," Heather said, but Veronica had already hung up, leaving Heather alone with the drawn-out noise indicating the end of the call.

Heather exhaled, trying to assimilate what had happened. The last thing Heather wanted was to go back to her hometown, but if Veronica of all people was contacting her, she wanted to know why. As she stared at the telephone in her hand, a thought crossed her mind and before she had enough time think it through, Heather started dialing another familiar number. The phone rang for five seconds before the person on the other line picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's me," Heather said, starting to regret her decision. "Can we talk?"

***

Heather McNamara

Reuniting with her teammates was not on Heather McNamara's to-do list for that evening, but after she received a call from Heather Duke, practically begging Heather to meet her and Veronica, what else could she say besides yes?

Heather knew that Veronica was back in town, they hadn't stumbled across each other yet, but Sherwood was a small place filled with bored people, and gossip spread like wildfire.

Heather hated to admit it but she missed her teammates. After they were rescued, Heather was sent to a wellness retreat in Switzerland, to recover from the trauma (it was a mental hospital, but her parents refused to call it that because it sounded too scandalous), and to her shock, she came home 6 months later to discover that the rest of the group had agreed to not stay in touch with each other.

Part of her understood their decision, she knew they needed to move on, and how dealing with each others presence could bring back unwanted memories, but they had gone through unspeakable things that no one else could begin to understand, so the other part of Heather vehemently believed that if they were going to heal they needed to do it together, as a team.

Granted, the deal wasn't a hundred percent effective, and a lot of them had broken the rule over the years, by calling each other in the middle of the night when they couldn't sleep, or meeting up to talk and cry together when things got too hard.

"Are you going somewhere?" Kurt, her husband, asked, leaning in on the door frame of their bedroom as Heather got dressed.

"Yeah, I'm meeting up with Veronica and Heather," she answered, putting a pair of earrings as the final touch to her outfit. "I told you about that last night, remember?"

Kurt blinked. Heather knew he didn't remember because he never paid attention to a word she said; sometimes, she couldn't help but think that his head was empty, with just a single brain cell floating around in a void of nothingness like the DVD logo bouncing on the screen.

"Uh? Oh, yeah, totally..." he lied. "Wait, but what about dinner?"

"Just order a pizza or something," she shrugged. She couldn't believe that was the only thing he was focused on.

"Ok. Do you need a ride? Cause the game is gonna start in like 20 minutes but if we leave now..."

"Heather is picking me up," Heather smiled. She did have her own car, but it was at the mechanic's because Kurt thought it was a good idea to use her car to teach their 15 year old son how to drive, and things didn't end well for her poor car and for their neighbors' wooden fence. "By the way, remember to pick up Rupert from Sophie's house by 9, please!"

"I will, don't worry about it."

"Because last time you forgot and-" Heather began. Kurt gave her an annoyed look.

"Christ, that was one time!"

"Two, actually," Heather corrected him. "The poor boy had to walk home in a storm and he got sick."

"It was just a little rain, he didn't die," Kurt rolled his eyes. "We've been through way worse shit and we're still here. You gotta stop treating him like a baby or he's gonna grow up to be a little snowflake."

"Yeah, I know, I know..." it was Heather's time to roll her eyes. How to raise their son was one of the topics they disagreed on the most, because Heather's coddling and sometimes a little overbearing attitude towards her mama's boy often conflicted with the parenting philosophy that Kurt inherited from his own father, which was to teach their son that any signs of weakness, like getting sick and disliking football, automatically turned him into a pussy.

"But don't worry, I'll pick him up. After the game ends, of course," Kurt reassured her. As he talked, he started massaging his left tight, just above the knee, with an expression of discomfort on his face.

"Is your leg hurting again?" Heather asked, worried.

"Nah, it's cool. I'm gonna take it off when the game starts," he said, referring to his prosthetic leg. Kurt had lost his left leg when he was 17, way before he became Kurt McNamara (because Heather Kelly didn't sound that good and the McNamara name was very well established in Sherwood, so after some convincing, Kurt had agreed to change his name when they got married.) Because of circumstances, the amputation hadn't been a perfect one, and even though the pain had gotten a lot better over the years, sometimes he'd feel a little discomfort.

Before Heather could say anything else, she heard a car horn blasting from outside. "That must be Heather, I have to go," she said, giving her husband a hurried kiss. "Don't forget Rupert!"

"Chill, I'll be there at ten like you told me."

"Nine!" Heather said, exasperated, running towards the front door. She left the house, knowing there was a good chance that Kurt was going to forget their son, and entered Duke's jeep.

"Hi," she greeted her old friend with a smile.

"Hey," Duke replied, with a nod of her head. "Thanks for coming with me. Ava is busy today and I didn't know if I could handle coming back here by myself."

"Oh, I don't mind! I wasn't very busy today," Heather said. "It's good to see you."

"Yeah, you too," Duke glanced at her quickly, fast enough to give Heather a smile, before she turned her attention to the road ahead, her expression quickly turning back to neutral.

McNamara hadn't seen Heather Duke in 5 years. Heather didn't recall every detail but she remembered it was December 2004, because Duke was back in Sherwood that week to spend Christmas with her parents; that was also the month Veronica had overdosed from Ativans. Despite their reluctance at first, the two Heathers started talking, about their lives, their families, Veronica, Heather Chandler, and everything else that troubled them, and then they parted ways with an awkward hug.

Duke didn't look much different than she did back then. Her hair was a bit shorter and if Heather looked very closely she could see a few lines starting to appear on her face but that was it.

"What exactly does Veronica want?" Heather wondered out loud.

"I don't know," Duke answered, she sounded tired. "She just said she wanted to talk to me, then hung up."

"I didn't even know she was back from rehab."

"The program ended this week, I think," Heather said. Mac wondered how she knew that.

"Let's see how long she will last this time..." McNamara murmured. Duke gave her a weird look, a mix of amusement and shock.

"Jeez, she got out this week, give her a little credit."

"I'm not trying to jinx her or anything, of course I want her to get better," Heather defended herself. "I'm just saying that this is her eighth time in rehab in 20 years and the longer she's ever been sober was a year and that only happened because that was the year her parents had her committed."

"Yeah, I know," Duke said.

"How can she even afford all of those treatments? I doubt they're cheap."

"They're not," Duke said. Heather waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't.

Heather blinked as realization dawned on her. "Wait...you paid for it?"

"Just the last three," Duke clarified.

"Why?" Heather asked, genuinely curious. Even though they were all part of the same clique in high school, Duke and Veronica weren't super close, and everything that happened during the two years they were stranded in the middle of nowhere made their friendship even more complicated. Mac could see herself or maybe even Chandler doing something like that for Veronica, but not Duke. "Don't you think you're just enabling her this way?"

For a second, Heather wasn't sure if Duke had heard her, as the silence between them grew longer, the only sounds coming from the other cars zooming past them and the annoying voice of the radio journalist talking about the economy.

"We would be dead if it wasn't for her," Duke said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think I owe her that much."

***

15 minutes later, Duke parked her car in front of the quaint diner where they were supposed to meet Veronica. McNamara quickly spotted the familiar mop of messy brown hair, seated in one of the booths.

Heather Duke drew in a long breath, like she was preparing herself, and started to walk towards Veronica.

"Hey, " Duke said, seating down. Veronica looked up from her cup of coffee (the least harmful of all of her vices) and her expression shifted from neutral to surprised when she saw McNamara.

"I didn't know you were coming," she said.

Unlike Duke, who still resembled the girl she had been in high school, Veronica looked completely different. Her appearance remained the same: same shoulder length brown hair, same face shape, same style...but something about her had changed. Every time that Heather saw her, she looked more and more worn out, like she was languishing slowly, withering away before their eyes like a dying flame.

"I was nearby," Heather said, sitting next to Heather Duke. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thanks," Veronica answered, but she didn't look convinced, and neither did McNamara. She hated herself for being right, but Veronica's countenance confirmed what Heather had said in the car, a week out of rehab and it was clear Veronica had already fallen off the wagon.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" Duke asked.

Veronica fished something out of the pocket of her jeans, a card. "A journalist approached me yesterday," she began. She handed the card to Duke, who looked at it with curiosity. "She said she worked for the Columbus Dispatch, but I did some research and didn't find her credited in any bylines."

Glancing at the business card, Heather saw a name that felt vaguely familiar: Vivian Harrison. That was the name of the perky journalist that ambushed her at the grocery store.

"She tried to talk to me too," Heather chimed in. Duke and Veronica looked at her. "A couple of days ago."

"Did you say anything?" Heather asked.

"No, of course not," McNamara said, a little offended that Duke would think she would do such a thing. "I didn't think much of it at first but if she also talked to Veronica, maybe we should be a little worried..."

"Why? You think she would try to talk to the others?" Duke asked, tense. "Have any of you heard from them?"

"No," Heather guaranteed. "I only talk to Kurt."

"What about you, Veronica?" Duke turned her attention to the brunette seated in front of them. "Have you talked to-"

"No," Veronica said before Duke could even say the name. She didn't have to, they all knew who she was thinking of.

Duke ran a hand through her black hair. "These people come out of the woodwork one anniversary or another... I'm sure there's no reason for us to be worried."

Veronica looked at Heather Duke as if she had said the most absurd thing ever.

"I can think of a few," she snarled, brows furrowed in anger. "State Senator...what the actual fuck?"

Duke sighed. She didn't seem surprised by Veronica bringing up the subject, however, she also didnt look eager to talk about it. "So that's why you made me come all this way? To complain about my campaign?"

"We agreed to not say more than we had to and to stay out of the public eye," Veronica glowered. "So imagine how surprised I was when I turned on the TV last night and saw your fucking face. Lead Ohio out of the wilderness... really fucking clever."

That was Duke's slogan: Leading Ohio out of the wildness and back to the economic prosperity it deserved. Heather agreed with Veronica that it was of poor taste.

"This isn't something I'm doing out of boredom," Duke said. "I really think I can do something important here and you're not going to bully me out of it."

"You could have called us or something. You're not the only one who is being affected by this," Veronica insisted. "Are you ok with this, Mac?"

Heather's friends stopped glaring daggers at each other to look at her instead. Heather froze, eyes wide, she was sure she looked like a deer caught in headlights to them.

"A little heads up would have been nice..." she mumbled, earning a scoff from Duke.

"Unbelievable..." Duke turned from McNamara to Veronica. "Sawyer, I decided to run for office last year, while you were busy shoving cocaine up your ass, so I don't think it would have made a difference if I had called."

Despite the noises in the background,  of silverware clinking together and the other customers talking, their booth fell silent, the atmosphere suddenly heavier.

"Fuck...sorry, I'm just stressed," Duke muttered. Veronica just shrugged and took a sip of her coffee, seemingly unfazed.

"No, you're right. I'm not gonna pretend like I have my shit together, " she said. "But get off your fucking high horse, because I am not the only one here whose life is a mess. You two are just as screwed up as I am, you're just better at lying to yourselves."

Heather didn't dare to look offended, because deep down, she knew Veronica was right. They were all screwed up.

Heather had spent the past 20 years trying to hide that, that's why she married Kurt and started to live like a freaking Norman Rockwell painting, because she felt like it would bring her some sense of normalcy, of comfort, and would keep her from spiraling. That was why Duke dove head first into her studies and her career, to try to forget the things that she could never erase. That was why Veronica fell down the rabbit hole, poisoning herself with alcohol, Percocet, Klonopin, and whatever the fuck she could get her hands on, because that was easier than facing reality.

They were all damaged, far beyond repair.

"I'm not an idiot," Duke said. "I thought everything through and I'm being extremely careful. They can dig all they want but they won't find anything."

"Good," Veronica said. "Because if word gets out about what really happened, about what we did...we are all fucked."