Stevie and Nadine in a bar, version two. I played with a few variations on this theme while I was writing the last one—this is set circa early-s2.
"How come you aren't married?" Stevie asks. Nadine doesn't even flinch, though no one else has ever dared to ask her something like this, not this bluntly. But Nadine doesn't mind answering it. She truly enjoys her solitude, her space, and her privacy, and that seems to take any sting of self-consciousness out of the equation.
She tilts her head, choosing her words carefully. "I'd rather be alone than be with the wrong person," she says, "and... I only ever seemed to find wrong people."
Nadine was nineteen the time her college boyfriend came home drunk from a party, smelling like sex and cheap beer, and tried to pin her to the bed for another ride.
She was twenty-two when the girlfriend of the older choreographer Nadine had been sleeping with stormed into the middle of a rehearsal to make a scene. She screamed, in front of everyone, that Nadine had daddy issues. It was the first and last time Nadine ever hit anyone in her life. The girl ended up with a broken nose. Nadine ended up with a sprained wrist.
And a baby, as it turned out.
"I've been told that I have bad taste in men," Nadine says wryly.
She was twenty-seven when a conversation with her husband turned into an argument turned into a fight turned into him smacking her across the face so hard that she ricocheted off the wall. After that, it was just a race to get free.
She got herself out of that apartment and that marriage so fast that she practically kicked up a dust cloud behind her. Even if she were willing to abide the abuse herself, she knew her husband would have no qualms laying his hands on Roman next and maybe she wouldn't be there to protect her baby when that day came. But she was there now.
All of the men who came after her ex-husband were barely even worth remembering, and Nadine decided very quickly that she preferred it that way.
Stevie nods. "I've been told that I have bad taste in men, too," she says seriously.
"You should try to fix that while you're still young." She's being facetious, but that doesn't make it false advice. "I'd hate to see you end up in even... half of the situations I found myself in."
"Like what?"
She shakes her head. "Like nothing. That's... that's a conversation for another time."
It's a cop out, but Stevie doesn't fight her on it. Instead she asks, a furrow in her brow, "How do I start dating better guys?"
"Maybe your mother would know." Hell if Nadine knows.
Stevie snorts derisively. "You mean America's poster person for the perfect marriage? The woman who's only had one real relationship in her entire life because she found the right person right off the bat and then... and then married him forever and never looked back?" She rolls her eyes. "I don't think so."
Nadine can concede that point. "Well, I'm not exactly the best person to give you this kind of advice either, I'm afraid. For... for the opposite reasons."
"Well, if you ever figure it out, let me know." Stevie quiets. Nadine can see the high flush in her cheeks, the glassiness in her stare. She'll cut the girl off after this one.
"Do you... do you have kids?" Stevie asks eventually.
Nadine blinks. "I— I do. A son. He's a little older than you... about Blake's age." There are plenty of things that, if given the opportunity, Nadine would go back in time to change or fix or do over again. She loves Roman so much that it hurts—still does, even with decades and an ocean between them—but she only wishes that she'd been a better mother. At the time, she'd done her best with what she had, but now she thinks she could have done better. Done more.
Stevie sighs deeply and sinks into herself, shoulders slumping, chest dropping. She rakes a hand through her hair. "I bet you were a good mom," she says quietly.
"Maybe." Nadine feels her eyes prick with the threat of tears, and she has to force them down. "I was a single mom... I did my best," she says vaguely. She still finds it hard to talk about Roman at all, and in any case she isn't going to have this conversation with her boss's drunk daughter.
"Yeah." Stevie props her head on her palm and peers over at her, blinking owlishly. "Thanks for talking to me."
"We should get you home, hon."
"Don't want to."
"You can't stay here. Come on," Nadine says gently. She touches her shoulder. "I'll take you home." She hopes Stevie will comply, because if she doesn't then Nadine certainly won't be able to move her. Not alone. But thankfully the girl slides off of the barstool under her own power, and even seems stable enough to walk unsupported. Good. Nadine settles both of their tabs and then walks Stevie out to her car.
In the parking lot, Stevie says, "I'm thinking about taking the LSAT."
Nadine glances up at her. "You are?"
"I need... I just need to find direction."
"Well," Nadine says, blowing out a breath, "that's something I might actually be able to help you with."
Stevie whips around to face her. "Really?" She sounds slightly sobered, sharper.
"Of course. I'd be happy to." For all her other faults, Nadine has always been a damn good mentor and she knows it, takes pride in it. Half the aides on the Hill could attest to it.
"You... you really mean that?"
She unlocks her car with the key fob and opens the passenger door. "I do. Call me tomorrow and we can talk about it."