April 19, 2018

On the fourth unanswered ring, Harry considered hanging up and forgetting about it. But worry consumed him instead. Dammit. She should be home from work. It was late. Where could she be? Just as he moved the phone to hang it up, there was a click and a breathy, "Hello? H?" Her voice raised a mixture of relief and anger in the depths of his soul.

"Nataley! What took you so long?" In his anxious state, he might have barked at her just a tiny bit. Maybe. Unintentionally of course.

She huffed, "What the fuck are you on about, H? It's almost 10:30 at night. I was taking Chuck for a walk."

Her comments, likely intended to calm him, instead raised his apprehension to a level higher than the rafters in Notre Dame. "And you didn't take your mobile? Nat, that's dangerous." Scolding her felt completely natural to him after three years of friendship. Did she not ever watch out for herself? Some psycho could even now be stalking her, and he was literally on the other side of the world, unable to do a damn thing about it.

"Harry, I was just outside of my condo for crying out loud. What's got into you?"

Her words were a punch in the gut, and he nearly doubled over. Had he not earned the right to be concerned?

"I worry about you and Noah." The softly spoken sentence escaped from him though he attempted to hold it back.

The silence that followed made him nervous until he heard Nataley take a deep breath, blowing the air out loudly.

"Sorry, H. When I heard your ringtone from outside, I nearly killed myself tripping over Chuck's lead trying to get back into the house to make sure you were okay. You never call on Wednesdays since Noah is with his dad. It freaked me out." Her contrite tone and reasonable explanation made him feel like a total wanker. "I promise from now on I'll take my cell phone just so I don't get a lecture from you when you call unexpectedly."

He'd been pacing in his hotel room, and her calm response forced him to stop at the window where he gazed down at the street below. Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed. "I shouldn't have attacked you. When you didn't answer, and I knew you were alone, it gave me a fright."

Her gentle laugh drifted across the airwaves, causing his stomach to settle as though he had just taken sodium bicarbonate. "We're quite the fearful pair of friends, aren't we?"

Although she couldn't see him, he shrugged. "Can't help it if we know each other well."

"Where are you?" she inquired, and he heard a glass clink on the counter before a tinkling of ice and a liquid being poured.

"Having a nightcap, Nat?"

"No judgment, H. I was about to go to bed without one, but I want to get comfy so we can talk."

"Ah. Do you wanna get into jammies first?" His question was partly a tease, yet he could picture her in the joggers she typically wore with one of her loose-fitting tops on the times he's visited her and Noah later in the evenings.

"Who says I'm not already?" she huskily commented, and he heard the ice clink and a sipping sound as she tasted her drink. "Besides, we don't have those types of calls."

"What type?"

"The 'what are you wearing' type. Those are reserved for your conversations with Camille, I hope."

Laughter bubbled up from his toes, and he settled on the balcony. "I'd join you in a nightcap, but it's early afternoon here."

"Yeah?" He imagined her curling up on the sofa with her drink in one hand, her feet tucked under her body, and Chuck resting his head on her thigh. Describing the image to her, he asked, "Accurate?"

"Close enough. You forgot to mention the blanket I pulled over my lap to warm up a bit. It's a little chilly outside as spring fades into summer."

Smiling because her predictability was his comfort food, he crossed his legs and tapped his foot against the floor of the balcony in a simple rhythm that he recognized as his 'Nataley song'.

"Where are you?"

"Perth, Australia. It's warm, but the evenings cool off a bit. About 26° during the day."

"Which is what? Hang on. Let me convert. Stupid US. One of only a handful of countries still using Fahrenheit. Oh! Thanks, iPhone. It's like 80°F. Nice! Your show isn't tonight, right?"

"No. Saturday night here."

"Which is like early Saturday morning for us, right? Something ridiculous like five in the morning. Ugh. If Noah were home, he would insist that we get up early to find a livestream. That's been his goal for shows that are during hours he's awake. It's annoying."

"Sorry," Harry says the words, but his voice belies the meaning. The fact that the little man wants to see Harry live in concert warms his heart in ways he can't explain.

"Mhm. You don't sound sorry. Hey, weren't you just in Ireland? Glenne said that Camille was going to be with you for a big chunk of the Europe tour. I know she was at the Paris show with her mom, and I thought I heard she was in Ireland too?"

Shaking his head, Harry briefly pondered how quickly news flies through his fan community. "Yeah. She was there." A puff of air left him like someone getting punched in the gut.

"That sounded ominous," Nataley confessed. "Everything okay in paradise?"

Bristling, he snapped at her more than she deserved, "No one said it was paradise."

"Ah. Okay. Wanna tell me what happened?" His sphincter tightened at the question. This is not the direction he had planned for this conversation to go. It was meant to be a dialogue to simply connect with a friend. Not get called out on his relationship.

"No." His voice was clipped, and his jaw taut.

"No problem. We can talk about other things." True to her word, she proceeded to change the subject, "Noah has been bugging his dad to send him to music lessons, but Duane says they're too expensive. I'm hoping Noah's school will institute a band one of these years for the younger kids or at least teach him an instrument other than the recorder. Partly just so he'll stop whining about it." Her laughter didn't sound forced, and the fact that she was willing to switch subjects without probing any further was the reminder he needed of how valuable Nataley was as a friend.

And potential confidante?

"As long as I've known him, music has been at the heart of him, so I'm not surprised. Is 'Baby Beluga' still his favourite?"

"You know it!" Her smile was clear in his mind's eye. Her pride when she talked about her son was apparent, and it made Harry happy. Some things on planet Earth never changed. Thankfully.

"Nat..." His voice was hesitant. Should he really raise this topic?

"Yeah?" She didn't sound anything other than curious, and it was her easy-going nature that encouraged him to continue.

"I'm sorry about snapping at you. Can I...talk to you?" The vibrato of his voice wasn't entirely under his control, and he cleared his throat, shifting his position in the balcony chair as the street sounds from below drifted up to him. Horns honking. Voices raised in excitement and frustration and drudgery.

"Of course." Her response arrived so quickly that he knew she didn't even consider any alternative to yes. It reinforced his decision to drop this bomb on her.

"Shit. Now that I've said that, I don't know where to start." Biting his lip, he contemplated how to ease into the content of what he wanted to ask.

"Okay. Let me get the ball rolling then. 'Nat, Camille and I are struggling because...'"

Pausing while he considered what came next, he dug his toes into the floor of the balcony. "It's everything sometimes. The long distance. Not having enough time to talk between her visits to tour. Not having enough to talk about when we are together. She's worried I've got a girl in every port, and I worry that she's getting bored with me. It feels overwhelming sometimes, Nat. I love her so much. She's my happy place, but for whatever reason, when we're not together, things change."

Wow. He hadn't intended to say that much. In fact, he hadn't planned to share anything at all with Nataley about his relationship with Camille. Not when he originally called anyway. Then again, why had he phoned when he knew Noah wouldn't be home? The silence with Nat should be strained. After all, he hadn't shared his fears with any of his other friends. Not even Mitch.

"That must have been hard to say out loud," Nataley commented, and he wondered when she managed to climb into his brain and make a nest there.

"Mhm," he confessed. It made him feel vulnerable to open up to her -- to anyone really. And yet there was an added comfort with Nat. He knew she wouldn't judge.

"Tell me," she insisted, and he relaxed his body into his chair.

"You've got time?" Picturing the clock in Los Angeles, he felt badly for keeping her awake later than necessary. She worked hard, and she had a child in addition. Why should she stay up to talk to him?

"For you? Always, H. You've been there for me a time or two. I can pull an all-nighter if I need to. I'm not as young as I used to be, but an all-nighter once every decade should be manageable."

"Ha. You're so funny. I promise not to keep you awake all night."

"Doesn't matter. Tell me. I wanna hear." He believed her words fully.

He took a deep breath, and as he released the carbon dioxide from his lungs, he realised his entire body had settled more comfortably, like the plug had been removed from an inflatable raft. "Where do I start?"

The sounds of the wheels turning in her brain were nearly audible to him. "You said that the long distance was hard. In what ways? Is it just the concerns about infidelity? Or is there more?"

"I don't know how to explain it, Nat. We have to make appointments to talk to each other because our schedules just don't jibe. So then when we do get to chat, there's no time and too much to discuss, so I end up not saying much of anything, and then the silence drags on." Had he said too much? Would Nat think him a terrible boyfriend? Why would he care what she thought of his skills as a boyfriend anyway?

"Ah, yes. I can picture that so clearly. You try to cram everything in, but then it leaves you wondering if any of it is worthy of the time spent sharing it."

"YES! All I really want in those moments is to hear how she is and tell her how much I miss her." How had Nat hit on the crux of the problem so quickly when he hadn't been able to articulate it for days?

"Have you told her that?"

His lips tightened. "No. What good would that do?"

"Aw, H. It would let her know what you're thinking, and why you're not talking much. Is the fact that you don't talk much in those conversations part of the reason she thinks you're cheating on her?"

"Honestly, Nat, I think it's the whole reason. I've never given her any indication that I'm interested in anyone but her. She's my sun and moon, you know."

"Yeah. I get it, Romeo."

At her reference to Shakespeare, the corners of his mouth tilted up. "You're a dork," he proclaimed.

"And you aren't?" she pressed.

"Uh huh. Of course I am. A proud dork."

"I see." He could hear the amusement in her voice. She continued her friendly interrogation. "So when Camille comes to visit you in Paris or in Ireland, what's it like?"

"Uh..." How could he tell her that his horniness took over in those moments? Wanking only got a guy so far on a world tour. Having Camille's gorgeous and willing body in the vicinity was overwhelming for his desire.

"Ah. I get it. Enough said," she continued without letting him explain beyond the single uttered syllable. "Must be hard on your libido to be away from her for such long stretches."

"Now how could you possibly know that?" Chagrined, he placed his hands on his hips, the phone on speaker in his lap.

"Listen, sex is an important part of a relationship. Bad sex can sink a relationship, as I know from my time with Duane. Good sex can equally mess things up if that's all a couple does when they're together -- although honestly, I'd love to have that problem just once with one guy. But when you've got the hots for someone, and they aren't available, that frustration can build up."

"You sound like you've had experience with that particular challenge," Harry's forehead wrinkled, concerned that she had ever been in a place where a guy hadn't been around when she needed to get off. It made him sad honestly. Nataley deserved to have as many orgasms as she wanted.

Putting the brakes on that thought, Harry snapped his mind back to the topic at hand.

"H -- I know this sounds simplistic, but it seems to me you need to communicate with Camille. Talk to her about all of this."

Harry gulped. "That's a big ask, Nat." Had she lost her mind? Why would she recommend something so impossible?

"You love her. I've seen it in your eyes around her. And if you love her, it's only fair to have a real conversation with her about what worries you -- without spinning into a festival of complaints that the other one isn't there for you."

"It's not that easy!" His voice rose alongside his fear.

"Of course it's not. Hell's bell, Harry. If it were easy, every relationship would be successful from the beginning." He heard the ice in her glass as it clinked against her teeth, a pretty solid indication that she had finished her nightcap.

"Coach me, Nat. What do I say? Can you pretend to be Camille?"

"Mais oui," she teased, and he couldn't control the smile that escaped. For the next hour, they rehearsed a variety of opening comments for the dialogue he knew needed to happen with his girlfriend if they wanted to stay together. When he heard Nataley yawn, he glanced at his phone, noticing that he'd kept her on the call much later than planned.

"Nataley?" Interrupting her mid-sentence felt wrong to him, but he wanted to respect her time.

"Harry?" She responded in the same tone.

"You should sleep," he suggested.

"But are you ready for your next talk with Camille?"

The concern in her voice zinged him like a bolt of electricity.

"You're too good to me, Nat. I hope you know how much I appreciate you."

"Ditto, H." Another yawn accompanied her utterance.

"Good night, Nat," he whispered. "Get some sleep."

"You too," she murmured as they disconnected.