CHAPTER FIVE
birds of a feather

⋆*✧･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

SURPRISINGLY, NADINE HAD managed to go a year and a half at Dallas Aquarium without physically lashing out. Even with her infuriating coworkers, condescending boss, and aquarium patrons with "the customer is always right" mentality, she'd somehow managed to get by without wringing a neck or two. The self-restraint she'd demonstrated as an employee here had been remarkable, but there was always going to be a day where that ended. Where she'd receive the final blow that knocked her over the edge.

Today happened to be that day. Nadine had woken up with the sun, burdened with the knowledge of another day spent in 1963, and a piece of her had cracked. Her impatience—which was always needling at the back of her mind, like an irritating itch she could never quite manage to reach—had floundered to the surface, berating her with memories she couldn't push away. Her morning run only provided her with temporary relief. As soon as she'd ground to a halt, all of those names had wormed their way back to the forefront of her mind.

Thomas had been bothering her since he'd first moved into his posts, but today, he'd taken it one step further. His marriage proposal—and the inherent misogyny that came with it—had been enough to break the strained rubber band holding Nadine together in two, and she'd finally snapped. Her world had been so clouded over with red that she'd forgotten where she was, and by the time she realized that she was manhandling Thomas in front of her coworkers, it was too late.

Well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of my own actions.

Sitting in Mr. Flannigan's office, awaiting her punishment, made Nadine feel distinctly thirteen years old again, being chastised by her principal for getting into fights at school. M Alexandre had never expelled her, but she had been suspended on multiple occasions; black marks that marred her school record.

"Vous devez utilizer vos mots, Nadine," he'd tell her, tapping his fingers irritably on his desk. The surface would always be cluttered with trinkets, and it would be a struggle to focus on what he was saying when the Bob Ross bobblehead nodded at her and the cactus growing from a pot painted like the France flag begged to be touched. "Vous ne pouvez pas résoudre tous les arguments avec vos poings." You need to use your words, Nadine. You can't solve every argument with your fists.

"Pourquoi pas?" Nadine would always ask, imagining pricking herself on one of the cactus's spines. Why not?

"Parce que la violence n'est pas la réponse," her principal would reply, arms crossed. Because violence isn't the answer. It was such a textbook, moronic, and absurdly childish way of thinking that Nadine always rolled her eyes. Maybe violence wasn't always the answer, but there were a great many scenarios where it was. Like when Denis Cantillon had thrown gum in her hair for the third day in a row, and pleaded innocent whenever Nadine had attempted to tell her teachers. She'd had to cut around it, which made her hair uneven and shorter than she would've liked. So when Nadine felt the wadded-up lump of strawberry-mint land in her hair yet again, she'd stood up, walked right up to Denis, and kicked him in the nuts.

Denis stopped throwing gum in her hair after that.

So there were times when violence was the answer. Especially around men, who didn't seem to listen to a woman's words in the slightest.

Somehow, sitting here now, Nadine doubted that Leroy would see that. Last month, a female patron at the aquarium had complained that one of the employees had tried to feel her up when she'd taken her son to look at the sharks. This wasn't even the first complaint about this particular employee—there had been numerous others in the past, including one from Nadine herself—but Leroy, as usual, had waved it off. Bobby was a hard worker, he'd said. He had a wife and three children. He'd never do something like that. All of those women who'd accused him must've been liars.

So Leroy wasn't exactly the type who'd understand Nadine's feelings. It was easy for him. He was a man (and a white one, at that) in a position of power, meaning he could neatly sort through any problem aimed his way by waving his hand and announcing to someone that they were fired or promoted. He didn't understand that Nadine didn't have those capabilities. Nor did he get why Nadine was infuriated in the first place.

Sure enough, before he'd even opened his mouth, he gave her his signature "I'm-Disappointed-In-You" look that she'd prepared for. She chewed on her cheek again. More blood. She really didn't want to have to go home and tell Molly she'd been fired.

"Miss Vidal, you understand the sort of strings I had to pull to get you this position, right?" he began. Nadine screwed her face up. "I bet there were many others out there that were far more qualified than you were for this position, and yet, I allowed you to stay. You know why? Because I could see you weren't going to back down. You had a few Ichthyology facts up your sleeve, and you thought that because of this, you were owed a top position—even though that's not how the job industry works. But I was nice, and I told you that if you really wanted a taste of our research, you could stay on the team as a janitor. And I have to admit, despite a few minor infractions, you've done very well at this job. So I decided to let you remain."

Nadine took a deep breath to keep from screaming. He wasn't telling her the full truth. It wasn't niceties that had allowed her the position, it was greed. She knew for a fact that Leroy was paying her less than he was her male counterparts—far less. Even though Thomas had the same job as her, she knew he was making almost double what she was. It was another thing about being here that was fucking infuriating.

"But today, I see you attacking another one of my employees," Leroy continued, lacing his hands together. "Care to explain to me why that is?"

Nadine knew everything she would say would go in one ear and out the other, but she figured she should try, regardless. "Thomas Clarkson has been harassing me non-stop ever since he's gotten here," she said. "And today, this harassment escalated. Despite my multiple requests for him to leave me alone, he refused. Then, to make things worse, he started suggesting that I marry him! But when I told him I was uninterested, he called me—oh, what was it? A 'good-for-nothing skank'."

As she'd suspected, Leroy barely paid attention to her entire spiel. "Be that as it may," he said, in the sort of tone that implied he'd tuned out halfway through, "laying a hand on another employee—even one who ticked you off—will never, in any circumstances, be permitted in this workplace. I should fire you for this transgression, but I'm not in the mood to fill out that paperwork. I am giving you a warning, however. Pull any more stunts like this, and you'll be out the door before you can say 'Oceanic Ichthyology.'"

He wheezed at his own joke, clutching at his sides, and Nadine just stared at him. Once he noticed that she hadn't even cracked a smile, he cleared his throat.

"I'm guessing Thomas Clarkson isn't going to receive any sort of admonishment?" Nadine asked. "Even though, as I said, he's been hassling me for months now?"

"Of course not," said Leroy, making Nadine wonder why she'd even bothered. "We have no proof he was heckling you as badly as you claim he was—likely, he was just trying to be friendly, and you blew him off. I've noticed that you mostly keep to yourself here, even on break. You need to get to know your coworkers, Miss Vidal. In fact, let's make that a little side project, shall we? How about you try to speak to at least one of your coworkers by tomorrow. You don't even have to make friends with them—just strike up a conversation. It can even be about something as mundane as the weather!

"So, I'll call you back here in twenty-four hours, and we can discuss what you've learned. Sound good?"

Absolutely not, Nadine thought. She didn't say anything, though. She knew she should just be glad she'd kept her job. But at that moment, the fact that she still worked at the Dallas Aquarium felt more like a curse than a blessing.

Despite this, she nodded, giving him a tight smile. She hoped her eyes didn't betray how much she wanted to leap over the desk, seize Leroy's stupid tie, and wrap it around his neck until he resembled one of those rubber chickens with bulging eyes.

"Good," said Leroy with a nod. "You may go then, Miss Vidal."

Nadine stood up, not bothering to push her chair in. Leroy obviously noticed—his brow furrowed a touch—but he didn't say anything. He just flipped open a file folder on his desk and started sorting through his papers.

When Nadine was younger, she'd always exited the principal's office after receiving her punishment with a huff, shoving her hands into her pockets and flipping off the inner lining. Now, though, Nadine was in her thirties, and thus far too mature for such childishness. She really was tempted to flip something off, either way. She settled for leaving an inch of space when she closed the door behind her, just enough to drive anyone insane.

Satisfied by the distinct huff that came from the nearly closed door, Nadine set off. As she did so, her eyes darted up to the clock on one of the walls, just above a bench where a frazzled mother was currently attempting to calm down a screaming toddler. A frown creased her lips when she noticed the time. There were only five minutes left until the end of her break. It was as she'd suspected—she'd nearly wasted the entire duration.

Increasing her pace, Nadine made for the breakroom regardless. Perhaps she could manage to stuff her turkey sandwich into her mouth and take at least a few sips of coffee. It wouldn't recharge her as much as she'd like, but it would be something. Something to hold her during these next several hours spent cleaning the tanks, feeding the fish, mopping the floor, and helping the occasional patron.

This really was quite the tiresome routine.

WHEN NADINE GOT home from work that night, she was exhausted. Although she had managed to find time to choke her lunch down, it hadn't been enough to hold her for long. As the hours had inched by, excruciatingly slowly, she'd found herself growing wearier and wearier—her eyes drooped and her shoulders sagged, every part of her aching to go back home. When she was finally able to clock out, she practically flew from the aquarium, sliding into the passenger seat of Molly's car like she was on ice. Although Molly was used to Nadine's impatience (and thus, her need to get everywhere quickly) she still blinked when Nadine shut the door, for this was a level of speed that only came very rarely.

"Hey, Nads," she said, shifting gears. "Everything all right?"

Nadine buckled her seatbelt and leaned back against the car seat, closing her eyes. "Don't ask," she said, stifling a yawn. "Let's just make it about you. How was your day?"

"Average, I guess," said Molly, turning out of the parking lot. "Well, except for the man who came in carrying a teddy bear I swear was taller than him. He said it was a birthday present for his daughter."

Nadine laughed. "Why does The Sunrise Cove always get the weirdest guests?" she asked, eyes still closed. "I mean, this isn't the first time a guest has come in with an overlarge stuffed animal—remember that story you told about the giant bunny?"

"Well, that was for Easter," said Molly reasonably, though Nadine could tell she was suppressing a laugh. "I think it had a bunch of chocolate eggs crammed inside."

"Okay, well, what about the woman who tried to bring her twelve chihuahuas in? Or the man who insisted on tipping you by giving you tickets to his own magic show? Where do these kinds of people even come from?"

Although Nadine still couldn't see her—she had yet to reopen her eyes—she swore she felt Molly's shrug. "I don't know. Another planet, I guess. Either that or the state of Florida."

It took Nadine a minute to get the joke—there were too many states in this gargantuan country! How was anyone supposed to keep track of them all?—but when she did, she chuckled. Molly was an expert at dragging her out of her bad moods.

"Seriously, though, Nads," Molly continued, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. "What's up? Was work as crappy as usual?"

Nadine finally opened her eyes, her lips twitching at the substitution for a swear. Molly had one of the cleanest mouths she'd ever heard—even when she was at her angriest, she'd refuse to say anything worse than 'hell'. It was honestly endearing, compared to Nadine's constant potty-mouth. Well, she couldn't help it. Once she'd started speaking English, she'd immediately found a whole channel full of choice words.

Realizing Molly was waiting for her to respond, Nadine cleared her throat. "Basically," she began, purposefully avoiding the topic of her meeting with Leroy, "Thomas finally caved and ask me to marry him. I was wondering when he was going to do it, but I'm honestly impressed he finally mustered up the courage. Well, I was impressed, right up until I rejected him. Then he called me a skank."

Molly made a face. "Of course he did. I'm sorry, though. I know how much you're bothered with that kind of stuff."

Nadine waved her off. "It's all right. I don't think he'll be bothering me again for a while." She was intentionally vague, hoping Molly wouldn't ask her about it. And, to her relief, Molly didn't.

Instead, she said, "That's good. Honestly, the day men learn to take 'no' for an answer will be a very happy day indeed."

"Well, let's just hope our great-grandchildren are alive when that happens," said Nadine with another yawn. She wasn't holding her breath for a quick change. Especially since she'd seen that even in 2019, there was still so far to go.

Molly clucked her tongue, turning onto another street. Dallas whizzed by, a city that Nadine had become more comfortable with than she'd liked to admit. It was a testament of how long she'd been there that she could pick out familiar landmarks, places she'd either been to or had passed by. There was the authentic French café Nadine sometimes went to for a taste of home. There was the hardware store where she'd picked up yellow paint for the kitchen. There was the pet store where she'd considered buying another pet fish (she would, eventually, if only to give it a bigger tank than the cramped ones it was placed in at the store). There was the antique store Molly shopped at religiously.

Nadine turned away from the window. She hated being reminded of how much time had passed. Two years, and no sign of any of the Hargreeves. Two years without any way home.

Two years, and she'd had to build up a new identity for herself. She'd kept her name, but faked her year of birth; according to her driver's license, she'd been pushed out of her mother's womb on October 1st, 1932. According to her files, her parents—who, in reality, were children now (Louise would be just a year old, while Beau would be three)—had died when she was twenty, meaning she had no relatives left. It had all been quite a lot of paperwork, and all of it Nadine had done in secret—she couldn't exactly explain to Molly why she was filling out things that should've been filled out ages ago. It felt wrong, to reshape her identity. Surely she wasn't going to be in the 1960s long enough to need it.

Yet, she was. Two years had passed. Perhaps the others wouldn't come for her, after all. Perhaps she'd have to stay here, growing up in the wrong era, growing old and withered even before her parents did.

Nadine clenched her fists. Don't think about that.

Molly, seeming to sense that Nadine was stressed, kept up a steady stream of conversation throughout the duration of the car ride, which went on for far too long. There was quite a lot of traffic tonight, enough that they got caught in a jam for almost fifteen minutes. It made Nadine's skin itch, and she had to vehemently resist the urge to put her fist through the window.

Finally, excruciatingly, they arrived back home. By then, Nadine was so tired all she wanted was dinner, a shower, and a good night's sleep. But then, in the genkan, as the two of them pulled off their shoes, Molly asked if she could invite Nicholas over. And because Molly had done so much for her, Nadine couldn't bring herself to refuse.

Nicholas Gallagher was one of Molly's best friends. He was a dishwasher at a local restaurant in downtown Dallas (not Stadtler's—he was Afro-Cuban—but another quaint little place called Peter's Pavilion) and had met Molly when they were children. He was married (Nadine had met his wife, Donna, on multiple occasions; she was a baker, and always ended up sending Nadine home with bags upon bags of her pastries) and had a four-year-old daughter, Jodi. He was also pretty openly bisexual—apparently, birds of a feather flocked together. Nadine quite liked him. Not just because of his sexuality—though it was always nice to know that even in the 1960s, Nadine wasn't alone—but because he was genuinely a kind person. In fact, Nadine had actually ended up coming out to him the third time the two of them had met up.

So it wasn't like Nadine didn't like having Nicholas (and, occasionally, Donna and Jodi) over. She just knew that if he was here, she'd have to stay awake and try to look at least a little presentable.

She'd do it, though. Of course she would. For Molly.

After Molly called Nicholas and affirmed it was only he who would be coming over tonight (Donna and Jodi, apparently, were visiting Jodi's grandparents in Austin), she started dinner. Nadine helped her in any way she could, which referred to any way that didn't involve going near an open flame. Molly was making Yakitori, bite-sized chicken pieces grilled on a skewer. She often made a mixture of Japanese and American meals, and Nadine had therefore been introduced into both kinds of cooking. She still did prefer Japanese food, though.

They made enough skewers to feed the three of them, as well as miso soup—an essential. Just as they were finishing, a knock sounded on the front door. Nicholas had arrived.

"Evening, Molly, evening, Nadine," he said with a grin, tipping his hat at the pair before hanging it on the rack. "How are you two doing?"

"Hi, Nick," said Molly, ladling the miso soup into bowls while Nadine stacked the skewers onto a plate. "We're both doing great, how about you?"

'Great' may have been pushing it a little when it came to Nadine's mood (she knew the moment she climbed into bed that night, she'd be out like a light), but she didn't comment. Instead, she smiled at him (and it really was a genuine smile, albeit a tired one), poured him a glass of wine (only a small one—he did have to drive home tonight) and sat down with him to eat dinner.

Another reason she really did like Nicholas was because of his stories. Although his job as a dishwasher may not have been the most exciting one in the world, he somehow always had an interesting tale about it. Today, while they all ate their Yakitori and miso soup, he told them about his coworker, Hector, and how he'd accidentally gotten his hand stuck in his mailbox. In the end, he'd had to get his wife to call the fire department (he couldn't exactly reach the telephone), spent an uncomfortably long time having his hand pried out of the slot, and then rushed to work, where he ended up twenty minutes late regardless. Just like Molly, Nicholas had a way of telling stories to make them more amusing than they actually were, and by the time Nadine was finished her glass of wine, her sides were aching from laughing so hard.

Molly was giggling, too, one hand politely covering her mouth. "Oh, Lord," she was wheezing, leaning back in her seat. "Why didn't he just call in sick to work? I think getting your hand stuck in the mail slot is an adequate reason to skip out for the day."

Nicholas shrugged, ripping off a piece of chicken from the skewer. He chewed, swallowed, and, after taking a sip of water, said, "I don't know. But I suppose Hector's always been a workaholic. He'd miss his own son's birth if it meant he could arrive to wait tables."

Nadine managed a chuckle. "You'd have to pay me triple my salary to make me even stay a minute after I clocked out," she said, dipping her spoon into her soup. "I mean, seriously. Who likes their job that much? He's a fucking waiter, not a brain surgeon. It's not like he's getting paid that much."

Nicholas, who was also used to Nadine's coarse language, merely shrugged again. "Some people find they're at their best when they work," he said, "no matter what the job is. They like being productive, rather than just sitting around."

Nadine would've made a comment about capitalism right there, but given her company, she kept quiet. Even the most tolerant, left-leaning people she met in this era were usually capitalists—though for good reason. The Cold War was still in motion, meaning that any potential anti-capitalists would be accused of being Communists, and by extension, Russian spies. So, although some people here may silently critique capitalism and its many flaws, they would never admit to it openly. It was a lot of political bullshit that Nadine hadn't yet been able to muddle through, but it was safe to say that she thought the whole thing was absurd. Then again, most wars were.

So instead, she just said, "I guess that makes sense. I always do like to keep busy, just not at work. Even when I'm off, I can't just spend a day sitting around—even if I just go for a walk or do a grocery run."

She didn't add that this feeling had only amplified since she'd dropped into Dallas, as being stationary allowed the thoughts she was desperately attempting to keep away to crawl back in. She just continued to spoon soup into her mouth as Molly changed the subject to talk about a scarf she was knitting Nicholas. Not only was Molly a wonderfully talented cook, but she was also an artist. Not even just painting—although there were a few of her pieces hanging around the house—but practically any crafty activity, and Molly excelled. During Nadine's first month with her, Molly had gifted her a cardigan, a pair of gloves, and a flock of origami birds. It was just another reason in an already long list as to why Nadine loved her.

Dinner concluded eventually, and as soon as Nicholas bid them farewell and headed back out the door, Nadine let out a long, overdue sigh. Molly laughed.

"That bad?" she asked. "I thought you liked Nicholas."

"I do," said Nadine, waving her hand. "I really do—he's amazing to hang out with. I'm just exhausted. I, euh, got caught up in one of my projects today at work, and only had five minutes for a break."

"Oh, well, then," said Molly, stacking the dishes into the dishwasher. "I suppose we'll both have to get to bed, then."

Nadine grinned. "What about the rest of the dishes?" she asked, pointing to the sink. The pots and pans they'd used to make dinner were still stacked inside, awaiting a wash.

Molly waved her off. "We can do that tomorrow," she said. "For now, well... let's get to sleep."

"You're the best," said Nadine, taking Molly's hand. "Seriously. The best."

"Oh, I know," said Molly, and then kissed her.

Nadine closed her eyes and breathed her in. Every night, now, she received some sort of kiss from Molly (and, quite often, a whole lot more than just that), but every time their lips connected, it was as if she was doing it for the first time.

Just as electrifying. Just as wonderful. Just as right, like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

When they broke apart, Nadine smiled. Trailed a thumb down the curve of Molly's jaw.

Then grabbed her hand once more, and pulled her into their bedroom.

⋆*✧･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

HAVEN: are you guys team nolly or team nanya now?? 👀👀👀👀

thanks for reading :))