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Other than a few wrinkles and a new name, Baelfire had not changed one bit.
“The facial hair is just as I remembered,” Belle told him, after giving him a hug. “And the same haircut.”
“Haircut might be the same, but it's thinning pretty quick,” he replied, running his hand through his hair, as if he feared it might fall off at any moment.
“Nonsense, you're still gorgeous.”
“And you're still too nice.”
“And I'm still thirsty,” Ruby announced. “Where's the beer I've been promised?”
Graham whistled, calling her attention to the kitchen. When she looked, he opened the fridge and revealed a dozen Heineken bottles. Ruby clapped with girlish delight.
“Bless you, Neal Cassidy! One more week with Miner's Brewer would be the death of me.”
Graham started passing bottles around.
“Congratulations. Your grand reopening was a success,” Neal said to Belle.
“I still cannot believe it,” Belle said, a huge smile on her face that refused to fade away.
“And I cannot believe you missed it,” Ruby said, after taking a sip. “Who comes to a cocktail party for the speech and leaves when the drinking starts?”
“I've seen the alcohol this town has to offer. “Why do you think I brought my own beer?” He turned back to Belle before Ruby could push the subject any further. “Tell me about Australia. I want to know everything.”
Belle sat down with him in the living room and summarized the past eight years of her life the best she could, trying to make them sound as exciting as his life in New York probably was, but knowing she wouldn't get close to it. What was a bookshop and a college degree compared to New York city?
But Neal still listened to her attentively, laughed at her silly jokes, and said how happy he was that she got to finish college and do something she loved.
“That library needed somebody who'd care for it. That Regina let it slide for so long is ridiculous.”
“You should've seen the state of it when your dad first showed it to me. I thought I'd never get it done. Thank goodness for volunteers. And Ruby.”
Ruby pulled one of the chairs from the kitchen table and set it down in front of Belle. “I'm cheaper than a therapist, and way more to the point.”
Belle said, “True.” And thought of mentioning Milah Gold's help, but refrained from it. Whatever had happened between mother and son, it had clearly been serious enough to keep Neal from attending her ceremony. There was no reason to bring her up in a time like this and maybe ruin the mood. Besides, Belle had a feeling that Milah wanted her to tell Neal of all the wonderful acts of charity she had done lately.
Donating your father's books without his consent, for example, she thought, taking a sip of beer to keep herself quiet. It was none of her business. It was a private, family matter.
“Do you think she will?”
Belle blinked and looked at Ruby. “Sorry?”
“Do you think Regina will wash her hands of the library again and put everything on your shoulders?”
“It's Regina,” Neal said. “Of course she will.”
“C'mon, she's not that bad once you learn how to deal with her,” Graham said.
“Easy for you to say,” Neal replied. “Your department gets everything.”
Graham shrugged. “Public safety is a priority for her.”
“Yes,” Ruby said, smirking. “And also!”
Graham shook his head, “Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it...”
“She likes the shape of your ass.”
“Ugh!” Graham threw his head back, listening to Neal burst into laughter and Belle snickering behind her hand. “Why do you always say that? I don't say you get the best tips because of the length of your skirt.”
Ruby laughed. “What, you think I dress like this because it shows off my personality?”
“I'm so glad you came back,” Neal told Belle. “This is much more awkward when it's just the three of us.”
“Right, he's a married guy now,” Ruby teased. “He shouldn't be debating the shape of Graham's ass.”
“Will you please stop saying the word 'ass'?” Graham pleaded. “Especially when it follows my name?”
“I want to know about New York,” Belle said, leaning closer to Neal in the small couch. “Your dad told me you're a big artist.”
“It's very true, I'm the Van Gogh of book illustrations,” Neal answered with a serious face.
Belle nodded. “Underpaid, underappreciated, and deeply misunderstood?”
Neal smacked a hand on his chest. “You're the only one who understands my smart references. I missed you so much.”
He gave Belle a tight hug, making her laugh again.
“I'm smart too!” Graham cried out, offended.
Ruby said, “Shhhh. Don't go there.”
“Haha, very funny. I'll remember that the next time you want to get out of a parking ticket.”
The conversation continued between laughter and mockery. Neal showed them pictures of his girlfriend, Emma, who Belle was yet to meet in person, but who Graham said was really nice and “has a mean punch, but don't ask me how I found that out.”
His son, Henry, had just turned ten and looked just like him at that age.
“He's so cute,” Belle stated, looking at the picture on Neal's phone. “Is he a troublemaker?”
“Nah, he's a sweet kid. All he cares about are video games and books.”
“I bet your parents spoil him.”
“My dad just gives him everything he asks for,” Neal sighed, moving on to a picture of Mr. Gold trying to pull Henry between himself and the camera and making his grandson laugh in the process. “He's holding back on the puppy, but only because Emma asked him to. Repeatedly.”
Neal scrolled to other pictures. Henry. Henry and Emma. Henry and Mr. Gold. Henry with Emma's parents, a young, smiling couple that could easily pass for her siblings – she vaguely remembered Neal mentioning something about Emma being adopted, ten or so years ago, but the age difference between her and her parents seemed to be really small. No pictures of Milah anywhere.
They drank and laughed and shared war stories of the years they had been apart from each other. Neal tried to visit his father at least once a month, but he never stayed longer than a day or two. As a result, Ruby only managed to meet him once or twice a year, a fact she threw on his face after her third bottle of Heineken was emptied.
“I've seen Belle on my computer screen more than I've seen you in eight years, Mister Big Artist,” she said, pointing a finger and slipping into a slur. She had gossiped about Mrs. Gold, but she had downed a few glasses of champagne herself that afternoon. The beer was getting to her head quickly.
“I think you better stop drinking, honey,” Belle said.
“Nooo!” Ruby whined. “C'mon, I never get to drink and have fun with my real friends! I miss you guys so much! You're so much better than those bitches I hang out with! C'mere! Group hug!”
Graham sighed, but indulged her when Neal forced him to lean over and form a tight circle.
“There!” Ruby said. “You guys are the best!”
“I take it you'll be holding her hair back when she starts throwing up,” Neal asked Belle when Ruby let them go.
“I don't get sick anymore, Neal. I'm not a child. Look!”
She popped another bottle open and drank half of what was inside before anyone could stop her.
Then, she finished with a loud, “Ah!” And smiled without a hint of sobriety. “See? I so got this.”
“Clearly a mature grown up,” Graham said.
“Oh!” she shouted. “Tell Belle the flying monkey story!”
Graham laughed. “Ah, yes, that's a good one. Tell her the flying monkey story.”
“That's Emma's story,” Neal said.
“Yes, but Emma interacts with interesting people all the time,” Graham said. “You interact with children's books.”
“And paper cuts,” Ruby added.
“Paper cuts hurt like hell, just so you know.”
“Flying monkey! Flying monkey! Flying monkey!” the both of them started chanting, while clapping their hands on their thighs. After a moment, Belle joined in.
“Fine! Fine! The flying monkey story.”
By the time another round of beers was passed around, Belle was laughing so hard Ruby easily intercepted her bottle of Heineken, Graham being out of breath and in no condition to stop her. Despite the alcohol, or maybe because of it, Ruby took the next story, telling of the very awkward time when she convinced Granny to try online dating. That led to a heated argument about online dating, with Graham telling horror stories and Ruby telling fairy tales of people finding romance online – though all her grandmother ever found was a married man with a serious addiction to pornography.
“Now you, Belle,” Ruby said, her eyes starting to lose focus. “Tell a funny story.”
“I've told all the funny stories I know, Ruby. Let Neal get the next one.”
“No, c'mon, tell him about your funny speech. Do you remember the look on Regina's face?”
“He was there, Ruby.”
Ruby stared at her.
Then cracked up, loudly. “Yes! Yes! That was a funny face! Wasn't it, Neal?”
Neal dead-panned, “The funniest.” Though he looked as if the funniest thing was actually Ruby's drunken smile.
“Tell her about your publicity stunt. And don't leave out the best part.”
“Ruby, I think you've had enough,” Belle cut in, knowing where her friend was heading.
“What is the best part?” Neal asked, frowning.
Belle said, “Nothing!” At the same time Ruby said, “Your mom offended her flowers and Belle told Gaston to shove it!”
Neal stopped laughing.
Belle slumped and didn't look at him, choosing to pierce Ruby with her eyes.
“I know!” Ruby squealed. “To shove it! Tell him, Belle!”
“Hey, Ruby, why don't I take you home?” Graham suggested, sensing the change in the room.
“Nooo, I want to hear more funny stories.”
“Yes, but everybody's tired.”
“But Belle is taking me home,” she said, and finished the rest of her bottle in one sip. “This is good beer.”
“Lets not trouble Belle,” Graham said, getting up and trying to convince her to get off her chair. “She's tired, she needs to go to her own home.”
“Really?”
“Yes, she had a long day. Lets be good friends and let her get some rest.”
She yawned. “M'kay.”
“There we go. Say goodnight, Ruby.”
“Goodnight, Ruby,” she giggled, waving at them.
Once she was out of the apartment, Graham peeked in and whispered, “I’ll be back in a while, ‘kay?”
When the door closed, Neal didn’t waste time and asked, “So, my mom-”
“It was nothing,” Belle said. “A silly thing. Ruby just drank too much.”
Belle knew what Neal was thinking: that she was still a terrible liar. But Neal decided to nod, “Alright. You want one more?”
He got off the couch and went into the kitchen. Belle didn’t answer and waited for him to come back, but he took a little extra time picking a bottle and looking for the opener. Belle didn’t know if he was giving himself time to calm down or herself time to think the situation through, but she didn’t like the sudden silence that descended between them. It was enough to make her wish to tell him everything.
But then again, what was everything?
Hey, Neal, I noticed you have a complicated relationship with your mom. Want to say mean things about her? Because she makes me really uncomfortable too. No, I never saw her doing anything, but I don't like her. For some reason. Surely that counts for something, right? It's not like I just moved back in town and only interacted with her for two weeks.
That would be the most awkward conversation she’d ever had in her life with a friend. And how much of a friendship did they have, really? She had not seen Neal in almost a decade. Other than nostalgia and beer, what was there that Belle could claim the right to simply pry into his family life and offer opinions on his mother – or worse, on his parents’ marriage?
After a couple of minutes, Neal came back and said, “Look, I know my mom is hard to deal with. You've been stuck with her for two weeks and I cannot imagine what that was like.”
“Neal,” Belle stared, but he held up a hand.
“No, Belle, listen, if she did anything to upset I’d really like to know.” He sat down on the chair Ruby vacated, so he could look her in the eyes. “I don’t like the way she treats people and there is no reason for you to protect her.”
“It wasn't bad,” Belle said, trying to be fair. “I meant what I said. Without her help the library wouldn't have been ready in time. Not to mention she paid for the catering-”
“That's my dad's money, Belle,” he said, his face turning to stone. “She didn't give up anything to do you a small favor. If you think that you owe her because she was behaving like a nice human being, you don't. The thought of her being cruel to you-”
“She was never cruel to me,” Belle told him. “She's been the first volunteer to show up and last one to leave every day. She did everything that I asked without questioning. She offered the catering when Regina was giving me a hard time.”
“And yet you sound angry. Clearly, she did something to upset.”
“She didn't. I just...” Belle searched for the right words for a moment and concluded, “I simply expected her to because when we first met, when I came back, she was really, well, nasty to me.”
Neal tapped the bottle in his hand and waited for her to continue.
“To be fair, she just offended my flowers.”
Neal frowned, “She offended your flowers?”
“Yes, I went to deliver some flowers on Valentine's Day. I thought it would be a nice gesture, since your father's been helping me out so much. But I walked right in the middle of a fight and she... I guess the best way to say it would be she took it out on me.”
Neal took a deep breath and his face started getting red. Under his breath, he mumbled something Belle couldn’t understand.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” she said, thinking she was upsetting him.
“No, you should, I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at- I told my dad- Did you hear what they were fighting about?”
Belle’s first reaction was to say no, but then she gave herself a moment to try and remember.
She said, “I just heard your mother say- she was accusing him of knowing something. Maybe not telling her something? I don’t know.”
“Right,” Neal said. “I thought so. And how did my dad look to you?”
The question caught her unaware and Belle stammered, “I- I don’t-”
“I’m sorry,” Neal said, shaking his head. “Sorry, this isn’t your problem. I shouldn’t be pulling you into this. Lets-Lets talk about the library.” He tried to smile. “I heard you’re living on the clock tower now. Is it all you ever dreamed it would be?”
Belle nodded, but didn’t smile back.
She opened her mouth to talk about the moving process, and how getting her father’s couch upstairs had been nearly impossible, but it had been worth it because it looked so beautiful in that small apartment. Her very own small apartment.
What came out of her mouth was, “I was worried about your dad,” because, really, the memory of Mr. Gold’s eyes on the floor, and his pleading voice apologizing after his wife still haunted her thoughts.
Neal stared at her. Then said, “Okay. Why’s that?”
“I don’t know,” Belle said, shrugging. “I know I just got back and that we haven’t seen each other in years, so maybe I shouldn’t be-”
“No, you should, and you have the right to,” Neal said, firmly. “You have always had good instinct. And I have always trusted your judgment.”
Belle gave him a small smile. “But we don’t really know each other anymore.”
“But I know my mom, so if it’s between you both, I’ll take your account of the story over hers anytime.”
Belle looked into his eyes, to see if he really meant it. He did.
She took a deep breath and said, “I didn’t like the way she treated me. But... I suppose... I think the way he reacted to the whole thing was what got to me. I mean...” She collected her thoughts slowly. “I could hear her breaking things, I don’t know, I wasn’t there, but I saw the dinner table and it was completely ruined and... your father just brushed it off as her bad temper.”
Neal sighed, “That sounds like my dad.”
“Maybe it’s silly, but I felt like... It is silly, but I wanted to get him out of the house. What if she came back and hurt-?”
Belle paused, expecting Neal to be outraged. Exposing Milah’s bad temper was one thing, but now she was implying something way more serious.
Instead, Neal said, “Go on,” in a quiet, encouraging voice.
Belle waited for a moment, to see if he’d take back his consent. When he didn’t, she swallowed her hesitation down hard and said, “When she showed up three days later to volunteer at the library, she was a completely different person. I thought that maybe I was being a bitch, that I had no business judging somebody I didn’t really know. But today I was talking to your dad and I found out she donated his mother's favorite book to the library without asking him and I know it’s not a big deal, but it felt wrong to me. I mean, how can someone do something like that?”
If Neal thought she was overreacting and was way too attached to books, he didn’t show.
“Feels like she was putting on an act to me,” Belle concluded. “So that she could impress you.”
“Ha!” Neal laughed, dry, but loud enough to startle her. “Look how well that went!”
“Yes. Indeed.”
When she didn’t continue, Neal said, “Is there anything else?”
“No,” Belle answered. “And looking back, doesn’t look like much to begin with.”
Neal looked at her, and he seemed to be considering what she had told him. Then, he asked, “If the roles were reversed, if you walked in on my dad throwing plates and screaming at my mom, would you say that wasn’t much?”
Belle opened her mouth, but said nothing. No. Of course not. In fact, she’d probably have called Graham without thinking twice.
“It’s a lot, Belle,” Neal said. “Trust me.”
It was Belle’s turn to stop and consider what Neal had told her. Then, she said, “You’re really worried about your dad.”
“Yes.”
“Because your mother does that a lot.”
“Yes.”
“Have you considered talking to Archie? Maybe he can help.”
Neal rubbed his eyes. “My mom’s seeing him already. At least that’s what she says. Twice a week. And no more drinking, but you saw what happened today.”
“Yes.”
“Those were some of my dad’s conditions. I got him out of the house last year, when she screwed up big time.”
Belle wanted to ask, but she didn’t.
Neal shook his head and gave her a sad smile. “It lasted three weeks. Then she showed up with promises to go to therapy and change her ways, and all that crap that she didn’t mean. God, I was furious when he forgave her.”
“I think you had the right-”
“I was furious at him.”
Belle didn’t say a word.
“And now he doesn’t tell me anything anymore because he thinks I’ll be mad at him too. Which is great! I have Graham practically following them around, but of course that's not enough because once they're home it's-” he growled and covered his face with his hands.
Belle felt the urge to say something comforting. But whatever she could come up with would be a lie, and what was there left to say anyway? So she decided to reach for his shoulder and give it a squeeze.
“I’m sorry,” Neal finally said, emerging from behind his hands with wet eyes. “As I said, this isn’t your mess.”
“We're friends,” Belle stated, as if that justified everything. Then, without even realizing what she was saying, she made him a promise. “I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”
Neal looked at her. Belle sustained that look to let him know she meant it.
“Belle, I can’t ask you to do that. I don't even like that I dragged Graham into this, and he's the Sheriff.”
“I'll just...” She thought about it. What was left for her to do really? “I'll just drop by the shop now and then, see if he's doing okay. And if I think anything is wrong I'll call Graham. Or I'll call you.”
Neal tried to argue, “Belle.”
She didn't give him the chance, “He’s been helping me, Neal. And he's been nothing but kind since I got here. The least I can do is make sure he's alright. Besides, you’re my friend. Hell, you’ve been fighting bullies with Graham for me for as long as I can remember.”
Neal sighed, already giving in. “If my mom does anything to you-”
“What is she going to do? Stare down on me?” Belle argued. “I'll buy taller heels!”
Neal didn't look convinced, but that cracked a smile on his face.
He pulled her into a hug. “Thanks, Lady Belle.”
She hugged him back. Rubbed his shoulders. Before she could stop herself, the lie slipped out of her lips. “Everything will be alright. You'll see.”
The sound of the key turning in the lock made them pull apart. But Graham paid no attention to them and headed for the bedroom without looking up. “Hey, I'm tired, goodnight!”
Belle followed him with her eyes, and then looked at Neal.
Neal smirked, “Did you notice?”
“Yes.” She got up. “I’ll drill Ruby in the morning for the details.”
“That is if she remembers the details.”
He accompanied her to the door. “I’ll call you before leaving tomorrow, alright?”
Once she was gone, Neal knocked on Graham’s bedroom door.
“Graham?”
“I’m sleeping,” his friend answered, meekly.
“Yes, fine. Why do you have red lipstick all over your mouth?”
The door opened immediately.
“I didn't take advantage of her,” he said, his cheeks blushing beneath the red lipstick marks “She kissed me. I stopped her.”
“That's nice of you.”
Graham sighed.
“She's really pissed, man,” Graham said, looking worried. “I think she'll spit in my coffee tomorrow.”