a/n: a shorter chapter this time, showcasing how I can't write Gilbert.
2.
On Sunday mornings Natalia usually awoke to one of two sounds: old rock songs vibrating through her bed frame coming from the neighbours downstairs, or Gilbert. She didn't know why Elizaveta's obnoxious boyfriend was always there on Sunday mornings, but she couldn't say that she liked it.
Perhaps he thought of Elizaveta as his church, Natalia thought groggily as she pulled her gray sheets over her head, closing her eyes and trying to go back to sleep while Gilbert laughed loudly in their living room. Finally after the song downstairs ended, Natalia took the few seconds before the next one to sit up slowly, holding her head in her hands. She scratched the top of her head, stretched upwards, and frowned at the fake hardwood floor beneath her bed.
Eventually she would get used to the temperature of them in the morning, but at this time Natalia made no effort to hide her grimace as she gingerly tip-toed across her room to her dresser, where she grabbed a pair of socks. The socks had actually been a gift from Elizaveta; they were from some sort of wholesale place and were very thick and very comfortable.
Yes, Elizaveta was nice. So why was Gilbert so annoying?
Natalia looked at the mirror she hadn't cleaned in three months. With her messy blond hair running in an incomprehensible pattern past her shoulders and her Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles nightgown that reached her knees (another gift from Elizaveta-the other girl owned a similar pair of Batman ones), she considered changing and brushing up before breakfast.
She decided not to, just like she did every morning. With hidden annoyance and carefully sculpted blankness, Natalia opened her door and exited the room, now a mere five meters away from Gilbert. She tried not to scowl.
Gilbert looked up at Natalia, grinned, and waved. "It's the roommate! Good morning, brat!"
Natalia walked straight into the kitchen, ignoring his words. She was not a brat. She was just shorter than the both of them, which had nothing to do with her age. They were both just abnormally tall.
"Aw, don't talk much in the mornings, honey?" Gilbert grinned, turning around on the couch. "You know I didn't mean it, especially when you look so dashing in your turtle nightgown."
Natalia glared at him, poured milk into a bowl of ugly multigrain cereal, and thought you are why I do not date and let my parents choose a suitable, respectable, quiet gentleman for me instead.
It was at this point that Elizaveta came out from her room, yawning and not caring that she was wearing horizontally striped pyjama bottoms and a vertically striped tank top. Natalia flinched at the sight. For someone who cared so much about how she looked in public, she certainly didn't seem to care much about her sleepwear.
"Gilbert, stop teasing her," she smiled at her boyfriend, walking over to the couch to nestle in with him.
"I'm not teasing her!" Gilbert defended, his smirk saying otherwise. He took her head in for a noogie, which made her squeal and kick him off the couch. Hearing Gilbert's cussing and seeing Elizaveta's poorly matched pyjamas, Natalia closed her eyes and realized that they deserved each other after all.
Sighing, she brought her bowl of cereal to the small table and sat cross-legged there, not touching her breakfast but opting to observe them instead. She always wondered if that was what a 'healthy relationship' looked like. At this point Gilbert had fought his way back onto the couch, and they were both screaming at something on TV and Natalia knew that she would never be like this with her fiancée.
This made her stop and think. Did she want to be like this with her fiancée? Had she not just thought that the two of them were ridiculous?
Natalia finally took a spoonful of cereal into her mouth and frowned while chewing. At least she could admit that she was fickle, she thought. Having mulled this over, she pushed her bowl of cereal towards the other end of the table and took the leftover cake out from the fridge.
"Natalia, what are you doing?"
Holding the remains of the chocolate cake guiltily, Natalia pursed her lips silently at Elizaveta, who was standing next to the TV, hands on her hips. "Eating breakfast," she answered finally. Gilbert cackled.
"That's not a healthy way to start the day!" Elizaveta reprimanded, going over to where Natalia stood. Rolling her eyes, Natalia backed away from the fridge and kept a firm grip on the plate.
"You're not my mother," Natalia said defensively, which seemed to make Gilbert laugh even harder.
"You tell her, Nat!"
Natalia threw him a glare. "I am not 'Nat'."
Elizaveta did the same, except with much less hostility. "Yeah Gil, shut up." She looked back at Natalia, "And of course I'm not, because if I were then you'd have obeyed me immediately, wouldn't you?"
"Is this about last night's talk?" Still holding the plate, Natalia raised an eyebrow. "Because if it is, then I'll need more cake than this to hear you talk about my personal rights again."
This time Elizaveta laughed, reaching out to pat Natalia on the head. "Fine, do what you want. But remember," she leaned in with a wink, "I'm the one who knows the secret about your eye." Laughing again, Elizaveta turned around to go back to Gilbert.
"I hate it when you pat me on the head," Natalia called out towards her retreating back, "And I've told you many times before that I hate it."
"And I've told you many times that grains are important for a healthy, balanced diet!" Elizaveta called back, not bothering to turn around. After settling herself on the couch, she turned to look at Gilbert. "And you. I know I gave you keys and everything," a day that Natalia very much rued, "But why do you come here every Sunday morning?"
Natalia took a bite of cake. "I would like to know too," she added with a full mouth.
"Gross, Natalia," Gilbert frowned, sticking out his tongue. Natalia refrained from reminding him of that time that he had indulged in burping the alphabet. "And it's because I want to go on a date with you, Liz!"
Elizaveta ruffled his hair affectionately, smiling. "Even though you know I have work at the café on Sundays?"
"I can walk you there," Gilbert pointed out with a smirk, "And the other girl there is really hot."
As Elizaveta tried to suffocate him with one of the couch cushions, Natalia ate more cake and wondered why she felt embarrassed watching them. To solve this, she turned her back to them, sat down in the middle of the kitchen, and continued to eat her cake.
"Now I want cake too," Gilbert whined after Elizaveta released him.
"Go get Sally to make one for you, then." Huffing, Elizaveta walked towards her room.
Gilbert lifted his head. "Her name's Sally?"
Natalia heard a slam, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. "Ha ha," she muttered under her breath.
"At least I have someone, you big loner." Gilbert shouted from the couch, "And I'm not eating cake by myself on the floor."
Natalia bit her lip. "I have a fiancée back in Russia-"
"Yeah, I know." Gilbert interrupted. Natalia nodded to herself, taking another bite of cake.
"I detest your very presence," she finally said after minutes of silence.
Gilbert laughed, a harsh sound that didn't necessarily carry a harsh meaning. "Join the club, princesss."
If there were such a club, Natalia imagined that there would indeed be a large amount of people in it. Gilbert started laughing at the cartoons again. Natalia closed her eyes and tried to shut out all the noise around her.
Yes, if there were such a club, she would definitely be the president.
With Elizaveta and Gilbert finally out of the house, Natalia hugged her knees to her chest and sighed in the empty living room, wondering what she was supposed to do next. She supposed that she would have to get started on her paper soon, but it was only noon and she didn't have nearly enough patience to get through another four hundred words on a topic that bored her to death.
"One of these days you'll have to switch your courses," she said aloud, resting her chin on the top of her knees. She didn't even remember why she had signed up for architecture in the first place, really.
Oh, right. It was because once she went back to Russia, there wouldn't be any need for her to do anything besides helping her husband run his father's business. She didn't need a degree for that; only patience and meekness.
(Two things that she unfortunately did not have at the current moment.)
Her gaze falling onto the beer can ridden windowsill, she wondered if she should start drinking. At noon? Well, it wasn't totally implausible. She remembered that once in summer Elizaveta drank two cans of beer the moment she woke up. She promptly went back to sleep and did not move again until dinnertime.
Natalia laughed, the sound filling up and echoing inside the apartment. She did not think she was lonely, because if one was lonely then one would want a companion. At that moment, Natalia was very content with sitting in her nightgown all by herself in the silence of a cold afternoon.
She hugged herself tighter, trying to bring some warmth to her body. When she did this, a flash of something passed by through her brain, like a lightning bolt carrying some sort of nostalgic memory. She couldn't remember what exactly happened in that flash of memory, but something told her that it had to do with the waffle house coupon sitting on her bedside dresser.
She weighed her options. On one hand, she could go and explore and find the waffle house, perhaps find out who she had slept with, and then make some sort of conversation with him. Or, she could sit around in her nightgown all day until Elizaveta came home, after which she would write her paper with a glass of orange juice in front of the TV while her roommate shouted Jeopardy answers.
Natalia stood up.
She would do neither, she decided. First she would call her brother (a sure-fire failure, she knew), and then she would go and buy a hot chocolate from the coffee house on West 16th.
But first, she would have to change. After all, Natalia always wore her best clothes when talking to her brother.
