Part Five: We'll Never Have Problems Again (Reprise)

October 22, 2020

"If you could not, like, actively make people want to barf in my Home Base, that would be super," Heather grumbles from behind the bar. "You know there are children present, right?"

Rebecca pulls back from Nathaniel's lips with a wet smack and Heather recoils in disgust. Perched on two barstools next to each other, they've been pointedly ignoring the stack of legal documents in front of them in lieu of shamelessly making out.

"Kids have to learn sometime," Rebecca says as she settles more firmly back down into her seat, wiping at her bottom lip. "Plus, his face is just so damn kissable, isn't it? How can I resist kissing that face?" Rebecca cups Nathaniel's cheeks and squeezes, her ten bright red nails a stark contrast against his skin.

He grins sheepishly up at Heather, his hair tousled from Rebecca's ministrations, his lips stained with rosy pink lipstick.

Heather rolls her eyes. "Sure, I guess he's attractive in that basic, interchangeable white guy kind of way."

Rebecca leans forward to kiss him again and Heather interjects, "Maybe you can take that face to a private place where I don't have to watch you swallow it whole. Just a suggestion."

Nathaniel gently removes Rebecca's hands from his face. Tamping down a smile, he says, "Heather is right. And we need to sign this lease agreement soon if we're going to open new Rebetzel's by the end of this series. Of holidays. You mentioned you want to open by Valentine's Day." He flicks his wrist to look at his watch and adds, "And I have to get back to the office soon anyway."

Satisfied, Heather walks away to speak with a server at the other side of the bar.

"But making out is so much more fun," Rebecca whines, lacing her fingers with his.

His eyes follow Heather until she's safely out of earshot. With a smirk he says, "No one's going to tell me I can't kiss my girlfriend in public." He sneaks a light kiss at her jawline and she shivers, a rash of goosebumps spreading up her arms. His lips hovering just below her ear, he rests his hand on her upper thigh and whispers, low and hungry, "I have an even better idea. How about we go in the back, take some clothes off? Like old times."

Rebecca instantly stiffens at his words. Those memories, while undeniably sexy in that dangerous, forbidden way that has fueled many a late-night fantasy, also elicit a mental red flag, like an annoying push notification in her brain. To her, old times represent the time in her life post-Josh, post-suicide attempt, when romantic intimacy was off-limits – a threat to her recovery. Love was a choice between literal life and death. Her entire faith in their new relationship relies on the fact that she's better, he's better, and they're better together than old times. No more cheating, lying, or scheming. No more sex as a dirty secret, behind the backs of others. No more old times.

Nathaniel leans back and searches her face. "Where'd you go?"

"Old times?" she repeats back to him, a warning in her voice.

Nathaniel shuts his eyes briefly. "Wrong . . . choice of words. Sorry."

"Maybe we need to have a bigger discussion about the problematic nature of – "

Rebecca stops when Nathaniel's focus redirects to the front door behind her, his face going slack. She swivels around on her barstool to see Greg entering Home Base. Like a moth to a flame, his eyes immediately hone in on her and he pauses, as if he's tempted to turn on his heels and walk right back out. Rebecca instinctively waves, her movements jerky and awkward.

With no other choice now that they've acknowledged each other, Greg walks over to where they're sitting. Rebecca quickly removes her hands from Nathaniel's lap, straightening her posture, and Nathaniel's eyes drop to the floor as if he was caught in some criminal act.

"Heyyy," she says, her voice climbing up to an uncomfortable octave.

Greg holds his pointer finger up in a one minute gesture to Hector, who is seated at a booth on the other side of the bar. Rebecca and Nathaniel hadn't even noticed him with how preoccupied they were with each other.

"Hey guys," Greg says, hesitation in his voice. "Um, listen, I don't want things to be awkward every time we see each other. I came to your show last Friday."

Rebecca and Nathaniel exchange furtive, guilty glances.

"Obviously, you two are together. Which is great. I'm happy for you. Really," he says, lackluster, as if he's trying to convince himself and failing miserably.

"Thanks," she says, unable to think of anything articulate to say to alleviate the tension. She's sure this is one of those moments where she'll come up with the perfect reply hours later, in the middle of the night when she's lying awake in bed.

Greg takes a step forward, as if he's going to abandon the conversation and join Hector, but then he stops himself. "Sorry, Rebecca, can we talk privately for a second?" His eyes dart from Rebecca to Nathaniel, silently asking permission.

"Sure," Rebecca says softly and hops off the barstool. Nathaniel's face is painted with a neutral expression she can't read.

Greg leads her to a corner that's empty save for a few kids who are rough-housing in a booth a few feet away.

He takes in a deep breath, then says, "I want to apologize."

"Apologize?" she repeats, taken aback. "Apologize for what?"

"For how I acted at Valencia's wedding. I've been meaning to talk to you for a while. Actually, I came to the open mic hoping to talk to you, but then . . . "

"Right," she says with a breathy laugh. "Then I turned the night into my own personal rom-com complete with a showy grand gesture."

He chuckles, "Something like that."

He smiles, a genuine smile without a trace of an ironic bite, and it reminds her of the good times they've shared together. It reminds her of the rare moments he let his guard down and showed her his true self. Her cheeks warm at the thought.

"Anyway," he continues, "the wedding was neither the time nor place for that argument and some of the things I said were out of line. I'm not saying this is an excuse, but sometimes when I'm at events with a lot of alcohol . . . I get a little tense. Or, more tense than usual. So I'm sorry."

"Thank you," she says. "That means a lot."

Greg glances over at where Nathaniel is sitting. He and Heather are huddled close, whispering something, both staring directly at Greg and Rebecca. As soon as they're spotted, Heather looks upward and points conspicuously as if they've been discussing something fascinating about the ceiling tiles all along.

"The things I said weren't great either," Rebecca admits, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. "And you have every right to be angry about some of the things I did to you. I know that you're this new, evolved, mature Greg now, but you're not a robot. You're allowed to have feelings."

"Maybe I was waiting for you," he blurts out, as if he hadn't planned to say it but the words came tumbling out anyway. He breaks eye contact and rubs at the back of his neck nervously. "Maybe, subconsciously, I was waiting. And when you started spending time with Nathaniel, I got angry. That wasn't right or fair."

Rebecca exhales. "Wow. This is some real adult shit, huh? Admitting our mistakes. Apologizing."

"One might say we're growing," he quips.

"One might," she giggles.

"Not physically, of course," he jokes, holding his hand flat to the top of her head to illustrate her short stature.

"Hilarious, as always," she deadpans, swatting his hand away.

Their effortless banter puts her at ease. He seems just as relieved to have the air cleared if the genuine affection in his eyes is any indication.

"What you did at the open mic – that was really brave."

"Stop –"

"No, I mean it. Putting yourself out there like that . . . it must have been scary."

"It was. It was really scary. You know my terrible track record with relationships. But I've put in the work on my mental stuff – been really consistent with therapy and keeping up on my meds – for a while now. Songwriting has become like the best coping mechanism I've ever had. And Nathaniel and I have become so close. Everything just fell into place, I guess."

Greg looks over at Nathaniel, crossing his arms in front of his chest, his expression pinched. She knows what he thinks about Nathaniel. At Valencia's wedding, he spouted off a verbal checklist of offenses, a series of condemnations of his character that rolled a little too easily off his tongue. He had been sitting on those judgments for a while and she wonders how deep-seated they are and whether he realizes Nathaniel has made big changes in his life, much in the same way Greg did after he hit rock bottom.

"Greg, I know what you've heard about our past, but –"

Greg holds up a hand to stop her. "You don't have to defend anything to me. It's your life. I just hope he treats you well. That's all."

Her stomach drops. His words – intentionally or not, she's unsure – echo a similar conversation they had years ago. Then, it was about Josh and her depressing, desperate attempts to gain his affections through ping pong and a spring-loaded dresser drawer. Whether the association is coincidental or not on his part, it puts her on the defensive, making her want to end the conversation as soon as possible.

"Well, I know this sounds cliche and it feels like we've said it a million times, but I hope we can be friends."

Unconvincingly, with a twinge of disappointment, Greg says, "Yeah. Sure."

"I'm always going to care about you. I hope you know that."

"Me too," he says softly. "Should we hug? This seems like a hugging moment."

"Sure," she says, nodding, and opens her arms to him.

Greg wraps his arms around her waist, though his grip is a little stiff and uncomfortable. Over his shoulder, Rebecca sees Nathaniel watching them again, his jaw tight. The hug only lasts a few seconds before Greg pulls away and puts space between them.

"Alright, I came here to meet Hector so –"

"Right."

"Take care."

"You too," she says.

As he walks away, she knows she should feel satisfied. It's rare to get even this amount of closure after a romantic relationship ends. Yet, his recycled platitude about Nathaniel treating her well, the half-hearted hug, and the tepid well wishes leave her wanting more. She wants more than closure. She wants validation. Logically, rationally, she knows it's absurd to want that validation from Greg, of all people, but it doesn't stop her yearning for it all the same. She wants all her friends to jump up and down and be genuinely, truly happy for her.

Craving external validation has always been her weakness, an issue that has persisted throughout her life. To her, embarking on this new romantic relationship is a monumental, earth-shattering step forward. But everyone else's lives tick on as usual, and she has to keep reminding herself that not everything revolves around her and her dating life.

Contemplating this, she walks slowly back to the bar where Nathaniel is pretending to read over the lease agreement, as if he hasn't been watching the entire exchange, as she knows he has.

Nathaniel clears his throat when she returns. "I think this is all set to go," he says, adding his signature to the bottom of the last page. "Do you want to look over it any more?"

"No," she says, distracted. She takes the pen from him as she climbs back up on the barstool and signs the document without fanfare.

As Nathaniel puts the papers into a folder, Rebecca tries to read Greg's lips from across the room. What is he saying to Hector?

Lost in thought, it surprises her when Nathaniel slides his hand around her back and she flinches.

"Sorry. Is something wrong?" he asks. "How was your talk with Greg?"

She blinks and turns toward him, saying, "No, nothing's wrong. It was good, actually. He apologized for what happened at the wedding. We made up."

"Good. Good," he says, nodding, his features tight with tension. "Well, Greg's, um, Greg's a great guy. Always liked him."

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm in a weird mood right now."

Nathaniel reaches into her lap and takes her hand, trying to get her attention, "Hey, I have an idea."

"What?"

"How about," he says, leaning closer, "we go on a date. A real date."

"A real date?" she repeats, wiggling her eyebrows.

"We haven't been leaving the apartment much lately. We should go out. Go on a fancy date. We dress up. I plan the whole thing. Something . . . romantic. What do you say?"

"Romantic?" she says, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "I say it's a date." She grins and tugs at his tie until she can peck him on the lips.

"Ugh, get a room," Heather interjects. "But not the stockroom, because I've had cameras installed. So, only get freaky back there if you're OK with me watching it later."

"You know that's not a problem for me," Rebecca quickly replies, which makes Nathaniel's eyes go wide.

Heather shakes her head in dismay and mutters, "Gross."

"In summary, basically my life is perfect," Rebecca says, a satisfied smile on her face.

"Perfect?" Dr. Akopian asks, skeptically. "How so?"

"Haven't you been listening?! I'm gonna make a buttload of cash when we move Rebetzel's to the new location. I have the perfect boyfriend with the perfect smile and a perfect ass who is all-around amazing and taking me on a romantic date. I'm finally having sex again – and lots of it. My songwriting is better than ever. Everything's coming up Rebecca. Finally, I am the one who all my friends should be envious of. Who's winning now?! Me, that's who."

"Do I really have to remind you again that life is not a competition?"

"I know, I know. But wouldn't you say that if it were a competition, I would totally be winning right now?"

Dr. Akopian purses her lips.

"Come on! Be happy for me!" Rebecca squeals, stomping her foot on the carpet.

"Rebecca, I am happy for you – about your business and that you and Nathaniel have figured out your feelings for one another."

"So what about all that isn't perfect?"

"Well, from the story you just told, it sounds like you are still craving the acceptance of others about your relationship. It also sounds like Nathaniel may still harbor some insecurities when it comes to your relationship with Greg."

"Uh, what? Greg? No. No. Nathaniel knows that's long over. How did you get that from my story?

"You said immediately after you made up with Greg that Nathaniel suggested you go on an extravagant date. You don't think those two things are connected at all?"

Rebecca pauses to consider this. "No," she scoffs. "No way."

Dr. Akopian raises one of her eyebrows. "It wasn't that long ago they were competing for your affection and you legitimately couldn't decide between them. And he's still part of your life. He's still buzzing around you like a sad, yet sensuous, Italian housefly."

"Wow, women of your age seem to really love Greg. I never should have shown you those photos of him."

"Listen, Rebecca, I know you are putting a lot of stock in this new relationship. I understand why it's important to you and that you want everything to be perfect," Dr. Akopian says gently, leaning forward.

"I sense a big but coming and I already hate it."

"But just be mindful that those insecurities and problems don't just disappear because you declared your love for each other. You both have a past – both separately and together. There are probably still issues you'll have to work through."

Rebecca pouts her lips, her forehead creasing with dismay.

Dr. Akopian continues, "We had a very similar conversation about Greg when you two began dating."

Rebecca bounces in her seat and leaps to her own defense. "No! This is different. I am so ready for this now. I am in a good place, a much better place than before. And, look, I'm here with you, still rocking my mental health. Not skipping sessions. Not rescheduling. Never rescheduling."

Dr. Akopian smiles hesitantly. "I'm happy to hear that. I hope that continues."

"Listen," Rebecca pleads, "I really love him. And not just in that glittery way. It's deeper than that. I know I've said this before but it really does feel different this time."

"I believe you," Dr. Akopian says reassuringly.

Rebecca's eyes drop to her hands and her mood shifts, turning more somber.

"What is it?" Dr. Akopian prompts.

Rebecca sighs. "I know that I've never made it past this part of the relationship. I fall in love with someone and go through the crazy-in-love, obsession phase. But it always blows up in my face. I never get to that next part of the relationship. The part that comes after the fade to black at the end of the rom-com."

"That's very self-aware of you to say," Dr. Akopian says.

Rebecca's voice drops, grows quiet with vulnerability and raw honesty. "I just . . . I want to make it to that next part with him. I want to build something real. I want what Heather has and what Valencia has and what Paula has with their significant others. I want . . . what everyone wants at this stage in life, you know?"

Rebecca's eyes search Dr. Akopian's, pleading for validation. She asks softly, "Do you think I can make it to that part?"

Dr. Akopian takes a moment to ponder the question, her eyes soft with compassion. "I may not be a couples counselor, but, as a person who's been married for over twenty years and a person who knows you very well, I think, as long as you can communicate openly, trust each other, and face your issues head-on, you can have a successful relationship."

Rebecca smiles, buoyed by her words.

"But remember," Dr. Akopian adds, "no skipping –"

"Never rescheduling," Rebecca finishes.

Dr. Akopian smiles. "I want you to have a wonderful date. Have fun. Be in love. And continue to be mindful of what we discussed."

"Maybe you should be a couples counselor."

"Only if I can charge double the rate," she jokes.

Rebecca's phone vibrates with a text from Nathaniel. Noticing the time, she says with a smirk, "Speaking of, our time is up and there is a very sexy man with killer arms and a bag of red licorice –"

"Spare me the details, please."

"– who is also my business partner –"

Dr. Akopian interjects, "Which is something else we need to unpack."

Rebecca rises from the couch, adjusting her purse strap over her shoulder. "Which we definitely will. At a future date and time, yet to be determined. I promise."

She pauses at the door and puts her hand over her heart. "I appreciate your tacit endorsement of my new relationship."

"That's not exactly what I said –"

"It means the world to me. See you next week!"

She closes the door behind her with an optimistic spring in her step.