This is a one-shot I wrote about a slightly different scenario concerning Nathan and Haley during their college years. A little bit sad, I think, but hopefully a good portrayal of their characters, Haley especially, and their relationship. Let me know what you think!
"Nathan?" She asked quietly, the weakness she felt coming through in her soft voice.
"Yeah, Hales?"
"I wish you were here." She had finally admitted what had been bothering her, what was always bothering her. She wished she could ignore the stinging pain she felt all day, every minute, but the pain was large and overwhelming and scary.
"I wish I was there too." And he did. He wished he could share her burden, help the young woman who he was so desperately in love with, but they had done the only thing that made sense to save their marriage.
"Are you sure this is right?" She inquired seriously, though they asked themselves this question often. Was it right? Were they making the right decision? It was the question that seemed to plague their every move.
"I think it has to be," Nathan apologized to her, and the sigh she didn't mean to give out but did, on her end of the phone, broke his heart.
"He's crying, Nathan. I have to go."
"If I was there, I would go get him," he told her earnestly, and her face broke out in a weak smile he couldn't see.
"I know." They hung up on either end, and Haley walked into the bedroom, where her infant son lay in his crib, next to her bed.
"Hey, Jimmy Jam," she whispered, smiling at her child as he whimpered, trying to fall asleep. She ran her fingers through his soft, feathery blond hair, trying to soothe him, but his whimpers only increased and he began to cry, hot tears dripping down red, angry cheeks. His eyes scrunched up. He looked miserable. It was all Haley could do to not break down and cry alongside him, but she had tried that before, and it didn't help relieve the pain of either mother or son. "Hey, don't cry."
He cried harder, baby-style screams overwhelming the small, dark room. Haley had the feeling that if Nathan were there, all it would take would be for Nathan to lift Jamie into the air, and the shrieking would cease. She knew it wouldn't be like this, only if Nathan were there.
She lifted him from his crib, held his small body against hers, gently rubbing his back as the piercing screams finally fell quiet after she rocked him in her arms for nearly an hour. Finally she placed him in his crib, heaving a sigh as she watched him sleep, briefly, to ensure that he would be okay. She worried about that, sometimes. When he had been born, and Nathan was grinning deliriously and she felt like the happiest person in the world, high school graduate and valedictorian graduation speaker, new mother to the most beautiful baby in the world, wife to the man she knew she would love until the end of time, she had never dreamed that it would take only eight months for she and her husband to find themselves in the position they were in.
She knew she should be grateful they had made it at all. She should be grateful that her son was (for the most part) happy and healthy, that she was able to attend such a prestigious university and get such an incredible and invaluable education, that her husband was playing the game he loved at the school he loved. That they had found a way for both she and Nathan to find a way to chase their dreams—their relationship had been all about dreams, hers and his. Her dream of music, her dream of academic success; his dream of basketball, always basketball, playing it and winning, like he always did.
But sometimes she wondered if it was enough. She was thrilled for Nathan when Duke decided to overlook the point-shaving incident and accept him on a full basketball scholarship, and he was going to be able to play for one of the best college teams for one of the best coaches. She was thrilled when she herself got into Stanford, her longtime dream school, on a hard-to-get academic scholarship. She got into Duke too, but money was a new constraint for them.
They had talked about it, at length. Nathan would not be able to play basketball at any school with a caliber even near Duke's, and he knew that basketball was going to be the only way he would get anywhere in his life. But Nathan knew that Haley both needed and deserved an education and Stanford was the place she could realize that, especially after the time and effort she had put into her schoolwork all through her life. He would never dream of asking her to give that all up to sit at an apartment near Duke with their baby all day. Financially, they needed to be smart about their decisions, with a new baby. They struggled at length, and when Jamie was born, the struggle increased. Neither Nathan nor Haley wanted the other to give up their dreams, and soon they realized it was more than about dreams, it was about finding success as adults. Nathan could only ever see himself playing basketball, and Haley knew she couldn't let her intelligence and her hard work disappear without a college education.
So Haley found herself, in the fall, a freshman at Stanford, with baby Jamie, flying around to drop him at day care before her classes and pick him up after them, feed and bathe him while studying. She had long abandoned that small desire to have anything resembling a social life. Nathan was at Duke, Haley talking him through his homework when he didn't understand it, playing basketball like he knew he could. Their relationship consisted of phone calls, for the time being, and Haley wondered if any other married couple had ever survived for so long just hearing each other's voice.
She yearned to just touch him, just know he was still there, still with her. Haley wanted the feeling of his arms around her, holding her, more than she ever would have imagined. She didn't understand how, but she had convinced herself that with just that simple feeling, the frustration and pain she had been struggling with as of late would be assuaged.
Suddenly, she was startled by her phone vibrating. She pulled it from her pocket, surprised when she looked at the screen and realized it wasn't her husband.
"Hi, Brooke."
"Tutor Mom! How goes it in sunny California?" Brooke jumped in, upbeat as always. Haley smiled tiredly; she couldn't help it, Brooke's infectious mood could almost always be transferred through her voice.
"It's fine, Brooke," Haley replied. "How are things with you?"
"Not so fast, you," Brooke scolded. She always knew when something was off with her friend, and this was one of those times. "How are you?"
"I'm good."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am. Come on, Brooke."
"Tutor Mom, I know when something's bothering you. Something is bothering you. Is Jamie doing okay?"
"Jamie's…a handful," Haley said lightly. "But he's doing well."
"And Nathan's okay?"
"From what I can find out on the phone," Haley retorted, failing to force the sadness and slight bitterness from her tone.
"There we go. Now wouldn't this all have been easier if you had just told me what was wrong in the first place?" Haley heard a rustling and clattering on the other end. "So. You and Nathan. Tell me all."
"There's not a lot of me and Nathan," Haley explained, exhaling as she finally admitted the root of the dilemma. "I guess that's the problem."
"Oh, honey," Brooke sympathized. "When are you going to see him next?"
"Couldn't tell you," Haley said sourly. "I saw him for Christmas, but I don't see another visit happening any time soon. Probably June, when school ends, at this rate."
"It's February."
"Exactly," Haley cried. "Brooke, it's so hard."
"I know, baby. And you do so well, considering the circumstances. You and Nate, you're going to make it. You're perfect together, even when you're not physically together. Anyone can see that," Brooke promised, hoping that she was doing at least something to temporarily alleviate Haley's frustration. Meanwhile, she was searching around on the internet with her usual Brooke-style ferocity, jumping from website to website.
"Thanks, Brooke. That means a lot," Haley admitted.
"Of course. You can tell me anything, how you're feeling, you know that," Brooke promised. "Now, I have to run. It might be three hours later here in New York, but Clothes Over Bros is an all-day, all-night endeavor!"
"Kind of like being a mom," Haley laughed, her mood encouraged by the brief phone call with her cheery friend.
"Now go get in a hot bath or something," Brooke directed sternly. "Have some Haley time. I think you need it, my dear."
"Will do," Haley agreed, and the two girls said goodbye.
As soon as she hung up her cell phone, Brooke snapped it back open and found another name in her contacts, shoving her phone between her ear and shoulder as she typed away on her laptop.
"Hey, Brooke."
"Your wife's a wreck, my friend."
"Is she okay?" Nathan asked worriedly.
"Not really," Brooke told him after a brief pause to think. "I mean, physically, she's fine. But this is really hard on her, Nate. She doesn't sound happy."
"She never sounds happy," he admitted, obviously frustrated. "But what can I do? If I tell her to come stay here with me, that means she's not going to go to school, and this is Haley. She's smarter than all of us ever were, combined. I can't let her skip out on Stanford. I can't do that. I would never forgive myself."
"And there's no way for…" Brooke tried.
"I'm doing this for my family for the long run, Brooke. If I can play pro ball, I can make a lot of money. I can provide for my family. If I give up basketball, I don't know if I can do that in the same way."
"This is Haley, Nathan. She has never cared about that. She married you when she was sixteen and moved into that shitty apartment with you—it was shitty, I know because I lived there too, once, if you remember. This is the girl who pretended she didn't want the keyboard because she hated that you spent so much money on her—"
"That's why I have to do this. I never want it to be like that again. I want to be able to get her a keyboard for every day of the year. I want—"
"Is it worth it?" Brooke asked quietly. "I understand, Nate, I do. I'm the one who treasures material possessions more than anyone. But that's not Haley. She wants you, not a thousand and one keyboards."
"I'm contracted to Duke for the rest of the season anyway," Nathan lamented. "Even if I wanted to get out, I'm stuck until June, by which point we'll be back together, anyway."
"Are you busy this weekend?" Brooke asked abruptly, clicking several times in rapid succession and then leaning back in her swivel chair, grinning proudly.
"No games, no. I just have this study session—"
"Cancel it."
"What?"
"Cancel it. You'll be busy."
"You're a social planner now?" Nathan laughed at Brooke's typically bossy demand.
"You'll be out of state," Brooke laughed. "Sorry if your wife takes priority over studying. God, Nate."
"Excuse me?" Nathan asked, thoroughly bewildered and perplexed.
"Stanford, Nathan. You are going to Stanford for the weekend. Your flight leaves at 12:10 tonight. You better hurry and get to the airport, my friend."
"Did Haley ask—?"
"Haley did nothing but tell me how she was feeling, and as a friend to her and to you, I will physically put you on that plane if I am forced to. I don't like seeing my friends suffer," Brooke explained with her trademark determination.
"You're—" Nathan was speechless.
"I am sending you to Stanford, yes. Surprise your wife, okay? Please?"
"Brooke, I can't accept this, you know we're in no place to pay you back."
Brooke interrupted her old friend swiftly. "And you know I'm in no place to ask you to. Nathan, I'm running a multimillion-dollar company here. A roundtrip plane ticket is not causing any catastrophic problems, alright?"
She had never been known for her subtlety, anyway.
"Thank you, Brooke," he said sincerely. "You're the best, really."
"Why, thank you," she giggled. "When you're in the NBA, you can hook me up with some courtside seats. And maybe a good-looking teammate too, for that matter."
"Anything you want, Brooke," he laughed. "I better go pack."
"Although, as a friend to Haley, I should probably tell you to pack nothing at all…" Brooke smirked.
They said their goodbyes and Nathan rushed to get a few items into a duffle bag before rushing to the airport. He made it through security without a problem, and was happy to see his boarding pass, all ready to go. Only Brooke, he thought to himself, would do this. He was grateful to her for her friendship to Haley, namely, but also to the loyalty she had to her old friends. He knew she had a million people falling over themselves to be near her in New York, that she was living the high and fabulous life there, but he also knew that her ties to Tree Hill and the people there would never be broken. He was sincerely appreciative for that fact when times like this came around.
He sat anxiously on the plane as it prepared for takeoff, shaky and impatient. He just wanted to get there already, he wanted to be at Stanford and see his wife's face and hold her and hold his son and for everything to be okay. He knew the weekend would be short, and that he'd have to return to Duke again afterwards—be away from his family, again—but he knew that this would tide them over for a while.
After the four-hour flight, he got off the plane and got into the first taxi he saw at the airport, telling the driver Haley's apartment's address from memory. He had never been there, only put Haley and Jamie on a plane at the start of their freshman year and then again after their Christmas vacation together, but she had described it to him in detail over the phone, as did he his dorm room. He had seen a few pictures of it online when they had arranged the rental, but he had never been there with her, and so it didn't feel like his home.
Then again, when he thought of his messy, disorganized dorm room—pizza boxes lying discarded on the floor with dirty basketball shorts and socks; sneakers near the door, ready to be tripped over; bed with its sheets twisted and tangled, blanket mostly on the floor—he realized it was probably better that he was not in charge of organization and upkeep at his wife and son's home. He was sure Haley had made her apartment homey and comfortable and perfect. Just by her being there, he was sure it was homey and comfortable and perfect.
Finally he arrived, noticing with a frown the propped-open door that he had thought, when they rented the place, was supposed to be locked 24/7, though he did realize that it helped his surprise considerably. He walked up the four flights to her apartment, almost breathless as he tried to go up as quickly as he could, wondering how his unathletic Haley did this with an infant every day.
He saw her door and smiled, taking a moment to compose himself. He was sure she'd be asleep—it was almost 2 in the morning, California time—but he also knew that any frustration she had at being awoken in the middle of the night to answer the doorbell would be evaporated when she saw who was on the other side of the door.
He hit the doorbell and waited, hearing the slight echo of the doorbell within the apartment and movement. He knew his wife was coming towards the door, probably in a sleepy haze, and he couldn't wait to see her perfect face and her smile when she finally saw him.
Finally the door swung open. Nathan inhaled out of instinct—and his face fell, dramatically, when he saw his wife on the other side.
"Nathan?" She gasped.
"Haley, baby," Nathan said, unable to grin like he so wanted to. There she was, in sweatpants and a tank top, her eyes red and puffy and her face tear-stained. She was holding Jamie on her left hip, and he was mid-wail, his face looking not much different from his beleaguered mother's. "What's going on?"
It took one sympathetic, concerned face from Nathan for Haley to fully breakdown, swinging the door open so they wouldn't have to do this in the hallway, where all her neighbors could hear them. He stepped in, and reached for Jamie, attempting to relieve Haley of the weight of their son, but she swiveled away, forcing him to simply follow her into the apartment.
This was not what he had intended would happen when she saw him. He had expected her to be shocked and jump into his arms, and they would both smile and kiss and be relieved, finally, of the ache that had consumed them. But that's not what happened. Haley had seen him, and it looked like she was still aching, at least to Nathan.
"Hales?" He followed her into the bedroom, the bedroom which he saw now was far too small for both her bed and Jamie's crib. He frowned when he saw the few inches between the two. She still didn't turn, wouldn't face him. She busied herself with calming Jamie, putting him in his crib. "Haley, talk to me, please."
Finally she laid their son down and turned to him, new tears brimming in her eyes uncontrollably, biting her lip as she looked up at him with a new desperation, a desperation unlike anything Nathan had ever seen in her before.
She crossed her arms over her chest, almost protectively, and Nathan wondered to himself how they had ever gotten like this, how she had gotten like this. He didn't know what he could say, so instead he stepped closer to her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to him, an arm around her and a hand holding her head to his chest as she cried, sobbed, even. He felt her wet tears dampening the shoulder of his shirt, and he didn't care. He listened to his wife crying into him and his son crying next to him, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from crying along with them.
He hated it when they cried, when Haley cried, especially. He hated when he couldn't stop her crying, hated that even more. Eventually, he led her to the sofa in the small living room, sitting her down and forcing her to pull away and look at him. He stared into her eyes, searching her, and finally spoke.
"Haley, you have to tell me what's going on. Please tell me what's going on with you."
"Nathan, I—I—" She appeared visibly nervous, her leg bouncing up and down, her hands shaking slightly as he confronted her.
"Hales, I know something's not right," he told her kindly, setting a large hand on her knee, trying to soothe her.
"It's so hard," she admitted, silent tears falling down porcelain cheeks. She let out a shuddering breath. "With Jamie and—and missing you so much."
"Is that really it?" Nathan inquired softly, knowing there had to be more to it. When they had left in September, she had been upset, sure. She had been afraid and nervous, and protective of Jamie, and she had had her fears just like he had, about raising Jamie away from his dad and about figuring out how to maintain the marriage they cared about so deeply from opposite ends of the country. But now, Haley was a mess. He could tell. He knew when she was stressed out and frazzled, heard it in her voice every night when they spoke on the phone, and when she even admitted it to Brooke, he really knew something was wrong. Haley had always been so determined to be strong and keep up a brave front in times of struggle and hardship. For her to come clean to Brooke before coming clean to him—it meant something.
She pursed her lips, frowning, knowing that her answer would break his heart, would break hers. But she couldn't help it. She felt like she was going to implode, felt like everything made her head hurt and her heart ache and the tears fall. She wanted to shriek, all the time, everywhere, when she was in her classes and when she was with Jamie and even, she hated to admit, when she spoke to Nathan on the phone.
"I can't even smile anymore, Nathan," she admitted in a hushed whisper, her most inner secret, the fact she had kept so closely hidden, to herself, for months now. "I can't smile."
She stared at him, waiting for a response. His mouth had fallen slightly open, and he appeared to be in shock, facing her on the couch, unsure of what to say or do. She hated the silence that had come up, frowned, looked down at her wobbly knees. When he didn't reply, she had to ask. "Are you mad at me?"
"No, Hales," he let out, sighing deeply. "No, baby, I'm not mad. I'm just confused, and—and sad. Why didn't you come to me before?"
"I couldn't, Nate," she whimpered. "I couldn't break you like that. I know how much you wanted this to work."
"I only want this to work because you deserve an education, and because this family deserves to have money—to never have to pinch pennies like we did when we first got married, okay?"
Haley nodded, her face serious. "I know that. I mean, I think I know that. And when you tell me that you love me, I believe it, I really do, but…"
"You better believe it, Hales, because I love you so much," he promised her, taking her hands, gazing at her deeply, wanting so badly for her to understand. He needed her to understand. How deep the love he had for her was, how deep it always had been, how deep it always would be. Never could he allow her to question that love.
"I know you do, and I love you too, I really do," she returned, her eyes aching when she looked at him. For all her academic success and good grades, she had never had Lucas's gift of words, and it was times like this she wished she had that gift, when she couldn't explain the thoughts in her mind and the feelings in her heart, but when she knew Nathan needed to do understand them. "I do know, Nathan, that's why I can't comprehend why I feel this way, and why I wake up every morning and I just…I hate myself."
"Oh, Haley, no," he whispered, running nervous hands up and down her pale arms, his brow creased with anxiety and concern. "You are so smart, and so together, and so perfect—"
"No, Nathan," she returned angrily, standing up. "I am none of those things! Don't you see how worthless I am?"
"How can you say that when you're worth so much to me?"
She stalked across the room as he looked on, confused, and snatched some papers from a pile of notebooks that sat forlornly on the small desk in the living room. She returned to him, thrusting them out before her, urging him to look.
He leafed through the pages she offered, noticing the numbers written in red at the top of each page, each paper or exam, and he bit his lip when he realized what had been going on. The numbers went down and down, and it occurred to Nathan that his wife was doing as poorly as he had been doing in high school English before she came to him, his personal tutoring goddess, and saved him from failing. He blurted out the words before thinking straight. "This isn't you."
"Don't you see that this is me? This is me now?" She begged him, distressed and frustrated. "I study, but I can't learn it anymore! I don't know how to learn it!" Her face reddened as she worked herself up, trying to express her feelings.
"Breathe, baby, breathe," he reminded her, trying to calm her. "I know you, and I know you can turn this around. Don't worry about this."
"Nathan, I'm practically failing my classes," she turned on him snidely. "I should probably worry about this." Their eyes met, and just as they did, a howl emerged from the bedroom—Jamie, no doubt, had been awakened by Haley's feverish rage. Nathan began to get up to go comfort his son, but Haley put a hand out to stop him and rushed into the bedroom, and he soon heard her cooing to their baby, whispering in a hushed tone as the infant shrieked.
After several minutes of listening, Nathan entered the dark bedroom, stunned to see his wife and son in bed, Haley holding Jamie tightly to her body, Jamie screaming as his mother cried. Haley's eyes were puffy and swollen, the wetness of tears streaking her cheeks, her knees curled up to her chest as she bawled.
Nathan did the only thing he could think to do. He took off his shoes and got onto the bed, too, wrapping himself around Haley, enveloping her in his strong arms, and their son too, waiting until their combined sobs quieted somewhat, so that his wife could hear him.
He knew she was listening when he spoke, and he meant the words he said, truly and completely. "I love you, Hales. I'm going to help you, get you help, whatever you need. Whatever it takes, we're going to get through this."
Finally. Heartfelt words and a message understood, and Haley's cries subsided as she tucked herself further into Nathan's comforting embrace, and she believed him.