Starting here and starting now
I can feel the heart of how
Everything changes
"Everything Changes", Waitress
October 9, 2020
His seat is empty.
She can't stop staring at it – the empty chair next to Paula's – as it sits lonely and Nathaniel-less. The place is buzzing on open-mic Friday night, in part due to Rebecca's army of encouraging friends spread out at tables around the room. The stars have aligned for her mass of supporters to attend, which she considers both a blessing and a curse on this particular night.
At a table against one wall, Valencia and Heather animatedly catch up while Rebecca pretends to pay attention. Josh and his girlfriend occupy a table on the other side of the room. They lean into each other and playfully whisper while White Josh sits awkwardly next to them, an apparent third wheel.
If she weren't so full of nerves, Rebecca might reflect more on how she's come full circle from where she started on Valentine's Day when she had her first performance. That day, which was the last time her friends came out in droves like this, she announced in front of everyone that she finally felt ready for romantic love. And now, she is in love. Painfully so. How ironic that the decor, which on that fateful night was all glittery red hearts, now reflects the macabre beginnings of Halloween season with a smattering of cobwebs and hanging foam skeletons.
Rebecca is a little worse for wear after a night of little to no sleep. On a typical open-mic night, she uses the performance as an opportunity to dress up since she rarely has occasions these days to do so. She spends extra time on her makeup, primps her hair, puts on a pair of high heels and a dress. Tonight, however, her brain was too fried to make the effort. Her outfit was a marriage of convenience with the pile of laundry in the corner of the bedroom. A pair of worn jeans and a blue printed blouse were the lucky items she plucked from the top of the pile. Then, before rushing out of the apartment, she paused at the mirror in the foyer and threw some of her untamed hair into a bun on top of her head and slipped on whatever pair of flats happened to be sitting at the front door.
Valencia and Heather's tabletop chatter fades into the background of the babbling crowd because Rebecca can only concentrate on one thing – Nathaniel's unfilled seat. She sighs, despondent, cradling her chin with her elbow propped up on the table. Distantly, she registers Valencia talking about her newest big client. A politician? Or maybe she said a pediatrician? Impatient as the clock ticks closer to showtime, Rebecca loses her cool and starts waving wildly in the direction of Paula's table halfway across the room.
After a few seconds, Paula notices the chaotic gesticulations and squints back at her.
What? she mouths.
Rebecca points at the chair next to Paula and whispers, exaggerating every facial muscle to convey her worry, Is he coming?
Paula shrugs and mouths, I don't know, with a frown.
Rebecca's face falls and she swivels back to Valencia and Heather only to see their disappointed faces staring back. Valencia's arms are crossed in front of her, her mouth pursed. The look. That's the look of nightmares.
"Hey, rude," Heather deadpans.
"Yeah," Valencia agrees, "we came out to support you and all you can do is stare longingly at Paula. I know you're best friends and all, but feeling a little unappreciated here."
"I'm sorry," Rebecca says, reaching across the table and squeezing both their hands. "I appreciate both of you so much. I promise I am so happy that you're here." As nonchalantly as she can, she adds, "I guess I hoped Nathaniel would come tonight, too."
Valencia bristles, sneaking an eye roll when she thinks Rebecca isn't watching.
"I'm sure he'll come," Heather reassures her. "You two are, like, annoyingly attached at the hip. Bordering on codependent."
Since Nathaniel left her apartment the day prior, they haven't communicated at all. Not even a single text. She's hanging all her hope on his need for perfect attendance, which he's effortlessly maintained since Valentine's Day. The fact that Paula hasn't heard anything is a good sign. She can't imagine Nathaniel standing up Paula with no warning, considering they use the time to discuss pro bono cases.
The door opens and Rebecca's eyes flash to it, her stomach clenching in anticipation. To her dismay, Nathaniel doesn't walk through the door. Instead –
"Gasp! Greg," Rebecca gasps.
"Oooh, are things still weird since the wedding incident?" Heather asks.
"He cares about you a lot," Valencia says, softening and uncrossing her arms. "You two should really patch things up. He's a good guy."
"I know. I know he is," Rebecca says. "I'll . . . try."
Greg offers the trio a timid wave and takes the seat next to White Josh.
"Of all nights, why did everyone decide to show up tonight?" Rebecca mutters under her breath.
"Again, ouch," Heather says.
"Yeah, why are you so jumpy and weird?" Valencia chimes in. "You're always hyping up these shows and now you don't even want us here?"
"I do want you here. Of course I do. I'm just nervous," Rebecca says.
With only minutes left before the first act, the door opens again and Rebecca sucks in a breath. But, again, her hopes are dashed when a woman she doesn't recognize walks through the door. She exhales with disappointment. That is, until the woman holds the door open for the tall patron trailing behind her.
"Nathaniel," Rebecca whispers, relief dripping from every syllable.
Valencia and Heather exchange quizzical looks, Valencia's left eyebrow arching so high it almost hits her hairline.
Nathaniel beelines to his usual seat at Paula's table and nervously scans the room. Like a magnetic pull, his eyes find her almost immediately. As soon as they make eye contact, he breaks it, as if the simple act of looking at her is too painful to endure for more than a few seconds. Paula, oblivious to their angst, points to a piece of paper on the table and Nathaniel obediently pays attention, nodding and conversing in hushed tones.
The host of the open mic, who Rebecca has come to think of as her nemesis due to his "running joke" (which she does not find funny) of purposefully never using her correct name, takes the stage. (In an act of retaliatory defiance, she refuses to learn his name.) Her pulse starts to quicken and she rubs her palms, slick with sweat, on her jeans. Despite her best efforts, she cannot stop herself from glancing over at Nathaniel as he actively avoids eye contact. Her fingers itch to touch him, to smooth away the tense wrinkles in his face, to brush the errant strand of hair off his forehead.
The first act is another singer-songwriter, accompanying himself on acoustic guitar. His song recounts a painful breakup, which is the last thing Rebecca wants to hear only one day separated from her devastating conversation with Nathaniel. As the man performs, Nathaniel's posture is stick-straight, his jaw clenched. A wave of uncertainty washes over her. The urge to bolt out of the room is overwhelming and the only thing keeping her butt glued to the seat is her belief that Nathaniel does love her. He didn't say those words exactly. She understands why, though, and for once doesn't think she's projecting her own feelings onto the object of her affection. She swears she saw it in his eyes. He loves her. But, like her, he has fears. Big ones. Battling all the defeatist, negative voices in her head, she resolves that she has to do this. This is her opportunity to make things right.
The mood in the room is strained and somber by the time the song concludes. Seconds later, when the host calls Rebecca's name, she doesn't even register it at first, she's so lost in her own thoughts. Valencia nudges her with a pointy elbow and, when her attention comes back into focus, dozens of eyes are on her, waiting for her to take the stage.
Clutching the Dear Evan Hansen piano book, she slowly climbs the small staircase to the stage, the sick feeling in her stomach intensifying with each step. She tentatively sits down at the keyboard and opens the book to a page toward the middle. The bright lights on her face and the vast, dark sea of faces fill her with a heady rush of adrenaline and fright.
She leans forward and says into the mic, "Hi, um, wow, there are a lot of people here tonight."
The room is so silent she can hear a man cough quietly into his hand somewhere to her right.
"I know I told my friends that I would be performing an original song tonight, but I can't," she begins, her voice shaky. "When I started writing music, I told myself it would always be honest and real, above all else. With everything on my mind tonight, if I sang that song, it wouldn't be honest. Or real."
To her left, Valencia and Heather murmur something softly to each other. Their voices remind her of every time she erased Nathaniel from her lyrics. Until now, she didn't want to face the truth that she used their past allegiance to Greg as an excuse, as a personification of all her own insecurities and flimsy reasons not to be honest about her feelings. Now, she decides, now is the time to finally push past those fears, unafraid, and squash those voices in her head.
"So I wrote a different song for tonight. Well, I kinda wrote it," she says with a self-deprecating chuckle. "I didn't have time to write an original – I'm not that good yet. But I couldn't sleep last night, so I rewrote these lyrics instead. This is the best way I know to express what I'm feeling inside."
Rebecca places her hands over the keys and her fingers visibly tremble. She finds Nathaniel's face and visualizes everything and everyone else falling away.
"This is a song I wrote," she says with gravity, "for you."
Nathaniel's eyes dart around, wide and surprised, as if he cannot believe she could be speaking directly to him.
She takes a deep, unsteady breath, then starts to play the introductory measures to Only Us from Dear Evan Hansen.
Nathaniel's expression lights up in recognition and he fidgets in his seat.
She sings, "I don't need some big pitch on the reasons to want you. You've given me months of the proof that I should. You don't have to convince me. Please don't ever be scared you're not enough. 'Cause what we've got going is good."
As much as she can without losing her place in the music, she watches Nathaniel and his reaction to her words. His lip quivers and he covers his mouth with his hand. Paula reaches across the table and gives his forearm a comforting squeeze.
"I know all of the ways that you've had your heart broken. I can't go back and fix all the things I regret. Clear the slate and start over. Forget about Trent and Josh and Greg. You don't have to compete with all that," she sings.
At the last line, several people in the room laugh and Rebecca gains more conviction, growing more at ease with the performance, sailing into the chorus.
"So what if it's us? What if it's us and only us? And what came before won't count anymore or matter? Can we try that? What if it's you and what if it's me and what if that's all that we need it to be? And the rest of our lives start today. What do you say?"
As she sings her truth, tells her story with her music, something clicks inside her. She can't believe how much time she wasted, how much energy she spent worrying about taking this leap. This is honesty. This is her truth laid bare. And with that, all of her fears melt away. The world, if only for a moment, makes sense to her.
"It's not so impossible. No more running away, I'm staying right here. I promise it's possible. Say you'll be mine and let's face all our fears. And you're the one I want to face the world with me."
Glancing up from her music, all she can see is him. In his eyes, she sees gratitude, affection. She sees a dazzling kaleidoscope of memories they've shared over the past eight months. The joys. The heartaches. The smiles. The tears. The singing, dancing, laughing, crying, fighting, pushing, hugging, holding. Through achievements and challenges. Through good and bad. She sees it all hanging in the air between them in that beautiful split second.
"It'll be us, It'll be us and only us. And what came before won't count anymore. We can try that. You and me. That's all that we need it to be. And the rest of our lives start today. And the rest of our lives start today. And the rest of our lives start today. And it's only us."
As Rebecca sings the last note of her song, drawing out the last syllable, her eyes drift shut for a moment, savoring it. When she opens them and lifts her hands from the keys, the crowd is hushed, as if everyone is collectively holding their breaths.
Rebecca stands and a few people start to nervously clap. Her friends are stunned silent, staring at Nathaniel, and the rest of the audience seem mostly confused by what they've just witnessed. Sensing the tepid response from the room, the host quickly takes the stage and starts to vamp, a signal that she should vacate the premises and make room for the next act.
Though she should be proud of her performance – she sang her heart out, a song written in one night, no less – she doesn't feel the sense of finality she thought she would. Then it hits her. Nowhere in the song did she state it explicitly – the three words Nathaniel wants, the one thing she knows he needs. She didn't give him those words. She never even said his name out loud.
"Wait –" she blurts out and rushes toward the host, grabbing his forearm, "Wait, can I say one more thing? It'll only take a second. Just one second. Please? Please."
Baffled, the host reluctantly hands her the mic, "Alright, Regina. Make it quick. You have thirty seconds."
"You know it's Rebecca," she sneers under her breath.
For a beat, she closes her eyes, trying to summon all the words that have been trapped inside her heart. When she reopens her eyes, she finds Nathaniel in the darkness. He sits forward in his seat, piqued with interest, waiting on her to speak.
"Nathaniel," she says, speaking solely to him, "I've replayed our conversation in my head about a million times in the past twenty-four hours. I let you walk away because I thought it was the right thing to do. But then I realized, as I was rehashing our conversation in painstaking detail to Dr. Akopian – sorry, I hope that's OK – that all you wanted was for me to just say how I feel. You wanted validation. Honesty. Affirmation. You deserve all those things after everything we've been through."
She takes a deep breath, gathering a final burst of courage.
"I love you. I'm saying it. Outloud. Unapologetically. In front of every single person I care about in this room. And all these strangers I don't know, who I'm sure are lovely. I knew I loved you from the moment you stuck your hand in the toilet for me."
A few people laugh, relieving a bit of the tension in the room.
"Here's the thing. I don't believe in meant to be anymore. Or signs. Or butter commercials. But I believe in you and I believe in myself. And I'm truly happy. The only thing I'm really sure of is that I want to be with you. I love you, Nathaniel."
She smiles, tight-lipped, trying to keep her chin from quivering, and her eyebrows flit up and back. She shakes her head slightly and shrugs, as if to say: This is it. This is my whole heart. As much as she tries to keep her composure, she knows her admiration and gratitude and irrepressible love for him is written all over her face.
Nathaniel's face goes slack, then crumples with emotion. Next to him, Paula beams from ear-to-ear, giving Rebecca an enthusiastic double thumbs up.
"So, choose me. Pick me," she says earnestly, tears starting to sting her eyes. "Let me have that space in your heart. I'm not saying it will be easy. We're going to make mistakes. Lots of them, probably. And I know that romantic love isn't an end. But I want this to be our beginning. I'm ready."
She sniffs, wiping the moisture that has gathered in the corner of her eye. "Sorry," she says, her eyes sweeping across the crowd.
As she timidly hands back the mic to the host, the tense silence is almost unbearable. To Rebecca, it feels like all the air has been zapped from the room until –
Valencia begins clapping with gusto and yells, "That's my girl!"
Rebecca breaks into a teary, relieved smile as scattered applause starts like pitter-patter of rain on a window.
"You did great!" Paula shouts next, clapping heartily, the applause picking up steam.
Paula and Valencia both look to Heather.
"Yeah, what they said," Heather adds, as the rest of the room erupts into loud applause.
Rebecca sighs and gives a tiny bow to the crowd.
Nathaniel rises from his seat, wiping at his eyes and shaking his head like he cannot believe what just transpired. He walks to the stage, his gaze focused solely on her, and she meets him at the edge. Your first standing ovation, she remembers.
He reaches his arms up and takes her face in both his hands. "That was . . . that was amazing," he says, raising his voice over the din of the crowd, "I love you."
She places her hands on top of his and says, "I love you too. I'm sor –"
He tugs her face down and kisses her, soft and sweet. To her surprise, the audience explodes with more applause. Paula hollers Wooo! from behind them.
Nathaniel slides his hands down until they're behind her thighs, drawing her closer and she throws her arms around his shoulders and squeezes. Teetering at the edge of the stage, it only takes a gentle pull for her toes to leave the ground, but he's got her securely in his arms, catching her. With a tiny squeal from the back of her throat, she wraps her legs around his waist and surrenders to the moment.
She grins against his lips so wide she's barely able to keep kissing him. After quelling the urge so many times, clinging to him like a needy barnacle is unbelievably gratifying, lighting up every pleasure zone in her brain.
When the kissing starts to border on inappropriate, Nathaniel pulls away and nudges her nose, pressing his forehead against hers.
"Does this mean you're my girlfriend now?" His voice is thick with unshed tears, yet there's a lightness, a pure happiness underneath.
She laughs, full-bodied and free, momentarily throwing her head back. "Yes," she giggles, nodding, cupping his cheeks, "Yes."
He tucks his face into her neck, hugging her body tight to his, and whispers, "What did you say about butter commercials?"
The end
To listen to the song and see art of the final scene, please visit the chapter on AO3: /works/18455072/chapters/55154485