"Natalie, pay attention to me please."

Natalie forced her tired gaze away from the window to meet her father's much more alert, much more suspicious stare.

"I said, where were you last night? I checked in at nearly midnight and you weren't in your room." He folded his arms.

Natalie weighed her options carefully. She could either tell him where she'd been, or she could lie to him about it and hope against hope that he never found out; neither option seemed particularly inviting.

Before she could speak, however, Diana breezed down the stairs, wearing a dress. Not just any dress, Natalie noted wryly, but a sundress that looked like something an overzealous sightseer would wear on vacation.

"Ready to go, Dan?" She asked happily, arranging the skirt, and Natalie rolled her eyes as Dan seemed to be fishing for words open-mouthed. She was beyond tired of this charade – of the "It's alright, Diana"s, and especially of the gentle "Let's go find you something else to wear" that she was sure was coming next.

"You're wearing a fucking summer dress." Natalie said loudly, ignoring the look her father shot her. "It's February, and – I honestly think that you may not know this, mom – but you're not a Hawaiian tourist."

"Language, Natalie." Dan said curtly, brushing by her. "Di, honey, you can't wear that. It's cold outside."

"Oh, I'll be fine. Gabe told me when he got back from basketball practice that it wasn't that cold –"

"Enough." Dan cut her off swiftly and suddenly, taking her by the elbow and leading her back toward their bedroom. Natalie watched them go up the stairs, and then flounced onto the couch, wondering what she had done in a prior life to deserve this kind of shit. Weren't parents supposed to be the normal ones? Weren't kids supposed to be the ones who gave the trouble? Natalie was upholding her end of that bargain, she thought sarcastically, but no one noticed.

No, that wasn't true. Henry noticed, Natalie corrected herself. Henry noticed more than he should. He noticed when she wore the same clothes to school two days in a row, when she looked more tired than usual, when she had a glazed look in her eyes.

"Are you okay, Nat?" He'd ask almost every day, and he'd beg her to tell him when she was going out so that, if nothing else, he could be there for her. She found the whole thing to be almost irritating – almost, but something in the way he never gave up made her hesitate to dismiss him so easily. He wasn't the one who she wanted to notice her behavior, but there was an odd reassurance in his unwavering attention.

"Go to your room." She heard her father say before she heard his clomping feet coming back down the stairs. "I just need to talk on the phone for a few minutes. Your mom and I will probably go to the doctor today, so you might need to have some leftovers for dinner."

Realizing the futility of arguing, Natalie slid off of the couch and made it halfway up the stairs before her obstinate nature took over. He should know that she wasn't in the wrong here. He should know that there were no leftovers in the fridge – it had been weeks since Diana had even acted like her daughter existed, let alone cooked a family meal. He should know that Natalie hadn't been home until nearly four in the morning. And why didn't he? Was he deliberately ignorant, or was he just fucking stupid? Either way, it wasn't right. Anger flew quickly through her and she turned around to face him.

"You asked where I was last night." She said, careful to leave no emotion in her tone – measured. She considered what she wanted to say.

I went out. I went to a club. I danced with complete strangers. I ignored six calls from Henry and he left me four voicemails, each one more desperate than the last. I drank more last night than you probably have in years. I got lost walking home before I called Henry to pick me up. (He did. He always does.) Mom didn't throw those pills away this time; I was the one who took them when you noticed were missing.

They make me forget everything I hate. But you know what it is to forget, dad, since you can forget even your own daughter.

She took a breath. "I fell asleep at Henry's. Sorry I didn't call."

"We'll talk about it later." Dan murmured, already distracted and looking in the phone book for some number or another. Natalie trudged the rest of the way to her room, sitting on the edge of the bed. She knew there would be no later. There never was. Her room looked foreign to her, like it was a remnant of someone else's childhood. The curtains hung primly, her books were all in order, and her clothes hung tidily in the closet. There was a blanket neatly folded at the foot of the bed, and she remembered Henry folding it uneasily, but carefully, when he had knocked it onto the floor before he left the night before. Almost automatically, she put her hand on the blanket and left it there, as if she could draw comfort from the loosely knit threads. It was strange, knowing that someone else had folded it. Someone cared about those tiny details of her life.

She took out her cell phone and dialed Henry's number before she could think about it. He picked up on the first ring.

"Natalie? Is everything okay?"

The amount of concern in his voice made her feel almost sick. Anything he could be feeling toward her – anger seemed to her to be the most logical emotion – and he was worried?

"Yeah. Everything's okay."

"Good." He said, and she could hear some sort of argument in the background; his parents, perhaps. There was the slamming of a door, then a silence that was as abrupt as it was unsettling.

"I just, uh…thank you for folding my blanket." She said hastily.

Thank you for folding my blanket? What the hell was she thinking? She was tempted to just end the call, but residual guilt from the way she had been treating him lately kept her from hanging up.

"What?" Henry asked, confused.

"Never mind."

"What are you talking about?"

"I said never mind."

"I mean, fine but…are you…is everything really okay?"

He was asking her if she was on something. That was his first guess as to why she had called. The realization of it – of what she had become – brought tears suddenly and unexpectedly to her eyes, and she shook her head no at the phone, knowing he couldn't see her.

"I'm fine, Henry. I'm sorry I called."

There was a silence, and then Henry spoke again, hesitantly. "Nat. I'd fold everything in your room ten times over if it would make you happy."

Natalie said goodbye, knowing that it wouldn't be long before the tears started to show in her voice.

"I love you." Henry said.

She knew, without even questioning it, that it was true; what she didn't know was why.