Vanilla. Apples. Sun.
Too much sun.
I shifted to wriggle out of the blanket that smothered me in heat. Morning sunlight blinked in and out of my vision, though it quickly faded as raindrops pattered the window. I never slept this late thanks to the throbbing headache that was sure to follow. And why were the windows closed? No wonder it was so stuffy here.
But it wasn't my room. What I'd thought was sunlight came from the glare of fluorescent lights above me. There were no windows, though fortunately the room had the illusion of spaciousness. Rain drummed on the rooftop from somewhere. My clothes had been changed into a hospital gown. None of my belongings were in sight. Next to my bed was a tray of porridge, a glass of water, apple slices, and a Levoxyl pill. I opted for the Levoxyl, as I wasn't in the mood for eating. The grogginess told me it was late in the morning; afternoon, even. There were also a couple of slips of paper.
One was from Hannah, her loopy cursive filled with question marks and an asterisk to stay right where I was until she could pick me up. I frowned and turned the paper over. Her message was awfully short for the rambling sentences I was used to.
The other was nearly unreadable. The most I could make out from the chicken scratch was the beginning ("Hey Ms. Whelan"), a bit of the middle ("I hope you're OK") and the signature ("Vihan").
The door squeaked open. A nurse came in. "Hi ma'am. I'm going to take your temperature and blood pressure. How are you feeling?
"Fine. What happened?"
He wrapped the inflatable cuff around my arm and checked his gadget. "A young man by the name of Vihan Moore found you unconscious on the sidewalk yesterday night. The mercury dipped below freezing. According to your medical records, you have hypothyroidism. Thanks to your sensitivity of the cold, your body nearly shut down."
He looked at me meaningfully. Invisible knives traced down my spine. I breathed in. "In short, that was stupid of me."
"I wouldn't disagree, but my job here is to make you feel comfortable. Now, how are you really feeling?"
"...Nothing out of the ordinary. What's wrong?" I said, noting his wandering gaze to the door.
He composed himself. "There's someone waiting to see you, but—"
A few quick knocks preceded Hannah's entrance. She beamed at us. "Great, I made it in time! Could we talk to Nora, please? We'll decide on whether she's ready."
After the nurse left, I tilted my head. Hannah was hiding something behind her back, and her slightly embarrassed grin contrasted how she usually would react. She rocked on her heels, looking at me expectantly.
"I don't get it," I said.
"Close your eyes."
I did. In the darkness, there were some shuffling feet. "I might fall asleep again—"
"Happy birthday Nora!"
I blinked open to see Hannah, Danielle and Tomas in their work clothes, waving jazz hands. The apparent lack of birthday supplies, asides from a small box tucked under Hannah's arm, caused me to descend into a light laugh.
Tomas groaned. "All of this cloak-and-dagger planning, and that's your reaction? You're hard to impress even outside of work."
Danielle nudged him. "Wait until we get to her condo."
"I'm sorry, you broke into my home?"
"You'll see," said Hannah mischievously. Knowing her, most likely only my front door would be infected with birthday joy. She pushed the wrapped box to me. "We had it planned differently. We didn't expect to celebrate your birthday in the hospital, but we thought you could use a little cheer. Here."
She had wrapped the pale blue box with a yellow cloth ribbon. A chalkboard tag announced Happy 26th Birthday, Nora! A familiar object rattled inside. I lifted the lid, and for a moment it was like looking into the Candy Crush version of my reflection. Dark chocolate swept down my hair. Spurts of green icing jeweled my irises. Cookie crumbs chipped off my blazer collar. And in the nook where my neck craned to pose a faint smile, Hannah had crafted a forget-me-not flower with dried blue grapes, most likely from her confectionary.
Homemade cookies. In the shape of my visage. Drawing faces alone was a challenge. Then again, the baking powers of Hannah and Danielle were something to behold.
"Because you always forget, even when I give you presents each year," Hannah scolded. "It's October 19th!"
My cheeks hurt from smiling. "You didn't have to do this—"
Danielle pressed a finger against my lips. "When you get a present, you're supposed to keep it and thank your wonderful friend for planning all of this. It was Hannah's idea of cheering you up. And we made extra sure to bake low-calorie cookies. Applesauce saves the day."
"Well, thank you. I usually don't celebrate my birthday." My words couldn't quite match the feeling in my chest, where a long-forgotten flower unfurled into full bloom.
Now that the initial excitement had died, I reached out an arm to hug Hannah. She hugged back, though her eyes didn't meet her smile. Her gaze kept wandering to the door, then back to me. She adjusted her necklace with the energy of someone with something important to say. My co-workers stood off to the side.
"You weren't serious about celebrating in my home, right?" I asked them doubtfully. "I appreciate the gesture, really, I do, but I need time to prepare, and celebrating it late ruins the point."
"We anticipated that," Tomas chimed in, "which is where Danielle's brilliant cousins came up with the idea of going to Canada's Wonderland. We got tickets," he said with a grin, holding them up.
"All right, I'm sold," I laughed. "You guys are the best. Isn't it supposed to be raining for the next few weeks though?"
Tomas shrugged. "Why should that ruin our plans? We can go anytime, but we can pick a day where it's supposed to rain. Less people, the better. I think it's time we head out though," he said, looking at his watch. "We're lucky it's a slow day at GreenGlass, but I don't like leaving Alek all to it."
Work. Of course. Electricity raced through my chest but Danielle was already at the door. "Trust us," she said, rolling her eyes at Tomas, "we won't be productive at all today. Send us a picture when you get back to your condo! I want to see your reaction."
When the door clicked shut, Hannah whispered in my ear, "No need to repay us. It's your special day, not a trade."
"I'll try," I sighed. "It was thoughtful of you. I'm glad they didn't ask about how I ended up here. That would have been hard to explain." I would have to think outside the box for their birthdays. High time I got creative too.
Hannah's smile trembled.
"You can let it out," I said, placing her gift on the table.
"What were you thinking? You never wander like that," she cried, punching me lightly in the shoulder. My eyes remained disconnected from my heart. When I showed no reaction, my friend gave me the most serious death glare she could manage. "It was a stroke of luck. Alek was keeping watch so he could tell us when you went home. After that we would decorate your condo door, so in the morning you'll wake up to a nice surprise. But you, who is so prompt and focused, didn't come back. Everything was closed by that time, so I called Emmanuel, and that was when he said Vihan had seen you at Coop's Bistro—"
"I hardly disappeared off the face of the earth. You would have found me easily."
She put her hands on her hips. "You didn't talk. At all this week. I thought—because of me, I thought—"
Hannah's anger crumbled like soft cookie dough. I gathered the courage to loosen my grip on the blanket, and patted her shoulder awkwardly. "It is never your fault," I insisted. "Hannah, you give everyone the benefit of the doubt before yourself. But for this one time, let the responsibility rest with me. You did more than I ever asked for, and I can't repay you."
"I'll say it again: it's not a trade-off," she murmured, furiously blinking away her tears.
I swallowed. "To tell you the truth, I was scared when you told me you were going to France. But I'm glad you trusted yourself with that decision. It wasn't family who convinced you, right? That wasn't the entire reason. You made that choice for yourself."
With her thumb and index finger, she pinched her pendant. She took a deep breath. "I don't like to put it that way. It's a combination of everything. I can never water it down to the biggest, most important factor because I don't know if that exists. There is no such thing as make-or-break. One bad instance isn't putting the rest of the future into stone. I just thought of what would make me happy overall...what has been missing from the start. For me, that was belonging in one country instead of two. And I believe that, if you try again, you can make the decisions to make your life truly complete too."
I shook my head, perplexed. "You lost me halfway through. Whatever are you talking about? I have you."
"I know, but even friends can only do so much. There is nothing wrong with missing your family, or needing them. Same goes for romantic relationships," she added.
"If you say so. But they never work out."
She touched my arm. "If people are willing to forgive, and if they feel the same way as you do, I'm sure you'll find a solution. I wish I can say more but I don't know the full extent of everything. But please remember that. I don't know what to think...I wish I could read minds. I mean, at the same time you also have your own mental health to worry about. Conflicting emotions are exhausting. Personally, I care about you the most, so I'm not sure...Nora?"
How many times had I searched for forgiveness when there was no point? No answer? My grandfather, whose opinion would provide me solace, was dead. The situation was non-negotiable with my mother. A small part of me agreed I deserved it. Then there was my father, who I wasn't sure if he was worth forgiving. I was playing judge, jury and executioner for myself and my family.
Gradually I processed what Hannah was saying. She caught my eye. "Hannah, I'm missing something. What are you trying to say?"
Determination glazed over her eyes.
"I didn't want to tell you. Nora, they—your father is in the waiting room. It's your choice. Do you want to see him?"
—
The air rustled as Dad unzipped his rain-soaked jacket. He put it behind his chair. Dad slid into the empty spaces like a key into a lock, but here he was an extra piece of furniture that didn't belong. Didn't belong at all. I didn't belong here either; my life wasn't tethered to an IV drip. We should swap places; Dad in the bed, myself in the chair, saying goodbye once again. He looked strong but fragile; like the thick rims of his glasses. Like Grandpa.
My hospital gown felt flimsy against my skin. But if not here, I was afraid Dad would disappear from my life again.
"Your timing is remarkable," I said finally. My vision edged not quite to his eyes. His jaw tightened. His orange-red stubble curled at the ends.
"I came early. To pick up Allison's stuff, as you said. Wanted to make sure I didn't get lost in the subways. I can't drive anymore," he added in response to my furrowed brow. The folding chair creaked under his weight as he shifted again. "Your mother doesn't trust me with the family car."
"Oh. You didn't tell me. I could have gone to your place instead." Had he planned to haul home Allison's supplies by himself?
"I'm sorry. I didn't think of that. Anyway a kind man helped me out, and I arrived here before noon. I spent some time in a flower boutique, and then your friend, Hannah, she recognized me. I couldn't leave you alone in this place."
His posture was stiff as a board. I scarcely remembered my dad's memories from his keys. It was too long ago. "You ended up in a hospital before?"
"Yes. Suicide attempt."
Miniature buildings and road networks swayed below my feet, stealing my breath. Where was that memory from?
Dad's eyes were glazed colourless. His voice was husky but clear. Unfiltered by a laptop speaker, Dad's words matched that of a regular person. One that might have walked by me and said good morning, and I would have responded without thinking. "Everyone was concerned. When they visited me, just like this, they asked me if I was okay. I said I was fine. They were confused because my response didn't contradict how I looked."
He scratched his chin mechanically. He scooted the chair closer, so his knee brushed the bed. "I didn't jump. The height difference paralyzed me. So I climbed back down, went to the nearest hospital, and sought help before I could regret it. In the end I still looked fine. Once the real story got out—'Andrew didn't break a bone, he's just playing around'—everyone was convinced that it was a lie. Do you see?"
I didn't want him to stop talking. This was the most intimate thing Dad had talked about; freely, without prompt. Unfiltered.
"We are masterful liars, Nora. And we like to believe what is easiest for us. After Grandpa's initial recovery, your mom and I felt that for the first time, we could breathe. Drop our guard. Stop fixing the mess we've made. It's our fault we didn't stop you from believing that too."
I pulled up my knees to my chest and rested my head, watching Dad sideways like a little kid. "It was my responsibility," I said hollowly.
"Perhaps," Dad conceded, "but we forced it upon you. No kid should have had that burden."
"Would it sound arrogant, to say that I wanted to share that burden with you? I tried. I wasn't a quitter. In the end, nothing seemed to make Grandpa or Mom or you better. It was all in the past. I couldn't change a thing," I said wistfully, recalling their Unlocked memories.
"Then do you want to try again? Together, this time."
I swung my legs to the side of my bed, so we faced each other directly. I had the sense that I was taller than Dad, as if he had shrunk. But he didn't shy away from my gaze. "I wouldn't know how. I sold the house, Dad. And I'm so sorry I snapped at you during that phone call. I should have answered your messages too."
"You were angry. I was frustrated. But that's okay. I'm not saying this because I feel forced," he reassured me, "but you did make me realize something. I can't continue like this, if I want to move to a better place in life. We have to make our own choices. So I'm happy you decided to sell the house Nora, because I don't think I ever would. Allison would have approved, I think."
I nodded slowly. "And Mom?"
"You don't need her approval."
"You're right, I can't care less about what she thinks of me. I'm talking about you."
Dad grimaced. "She needs time to herself. But I don't think she'll come around soon. Now that it hadn't gone her way..."
"You mean the key?" I interrupted. Now my phone call with her made sense. "Dad, you were the one who mailed me Allison's key? And Mom was in on it too?"
My words poured shame onto his features. "I'm sorry," he said.
I shrugged, feeling cheated. "Hugo would have contacted me anyway, and the realtor would have had a spare key. It wouldn't have made a difference." But it did. It did, because of my Unlocking, and gratitude seeped into my chest. The MacIntyre key and Allison's memories resonated with me. It put words into pictures, sounds and feelings that told me she understood what I had experienced.
Taken aback by my smile, Dad sighed in relief. "You liked to solve things by yourself. That was nearly all I knew about my daughter. So yes, that was why we sent it to you instead of contacting you directly. Your mother thought the key would, I don't know, magically form some common ground for us to 'reunite.'" I snorted; my Unlocking practically did the opposite. "She hasn't been talking to me anyway. I will deal with her. What she can do is nothing compared to what matters. Nora, you made me realize that there are some people in the world who I love more. Who love me more. Who are worth loving."
Finally, his words released the tears I'd been holding. I wiped them away with my sleeve, then stretched out an arm to Dad. To my delight, my nose picked up the scent of cologne instead of nicotine. His huge, cold hand patted me on the back. The airy hug wasn't much, but to me it was an achievement. "I love you, Dad."
"I love you too, my daughter. But don't learn from me. Overworking is not the solution."
"Ha, ha. I'll remember that."
"And don't neglect your medical needs. You scared me when I heard you were in the hospital, even if you only fainted! Someone could rob you."
"I'm grown up, Dad. I'll fight them off with my purse."
"That's my daughter. I know you will. And I'm happy to see you've made some friends here. They care about you a lot. Ah, but that reminds me!" He broke away with a sheepish smile. He patted his pockets, turned around in his chair, then snapped his fingers. "I got you something for your birthday, but I must have given it to him in the waiting room...one second."
I listened to the friendly exchange outside the room. Each second increased my suspicions. Red flags shot up in my brain; sirens switched on, and it was that gunshot-moment when Detective Murdoch found the incriminating evidence that turned the plot on its heels.
The door swung open. Dad wasn't sure what to make of my face, but he held out a bouquet of fresh, vibrant roses. "Do you still like flowers? We kept the ones from your graduation in the garden, but it's October, and I'm not great at gardening. This year's flowers have wilted. I have their seeds here, though." He produced a plastic packet of greenish-brown seeds.
"You kept them? Really?" I said, incredulous. I breathed in the roses. Though the scent was rather strong, and it made me sneeze—I wondered how bees stood the smell—I held them close to my chest, and couldn't stop smiling. "Thank you, Dad. It's very thoughtful of you."
He followed my gaze to the door, which was slightly ajar. Dad said, "Nora, all of what I told you, I might not have said at all if it wasn't for this young man. He seems to know you, and reassured me that meeting you was worth a shot."
In the doorway lingered someone with Cropped black hair. Slim frame. Tanned skin. Earphones clutched in his hand. And a T-shirt of a black and white road map, customized with Sharpie labels of specific landmarks.
Tai edged in the room, closing the door behind him. He smiled, then ducked his head. "Hi, Nora. I hate asking if you're okay because I overheard your conversation, and it seems we're on the same page when it comes to lies and all that. It's misleading and a bit like someone's actively hiding something from you . But I didn't know it was your birthday! I didn't get you anything, but that's not why I came. I was still worried. Though you said you were fine, and now....are you okay?" he asked, cringing.
After the initial shock, I gathered my words. "Don't feel pressured about that. My birthday, I mean. Helping my dad get here is more than enough. And no, I feel off-balance at the moment. But I think I will be okay. Thank you, Tai."
"My daughter is right," Dad added. "Thank you."
He nodded. "Okay. I'm glad. Why are you staring at my shirt?"
"It's a map of Toronto, isn't it? The road names sound familiar. I like it. You're staying over there?"
He frowned, concentrating on my words. "Technically Toronto is too big to fit on a shirt if you want to capture all of the details, so what you're seeing here is the area that I frequent the most. And yes, I'm staying there. For now."
I watched him squeeze his fists at his sides. He might just be as nervous as myself. An idea came to mind.
Out the corner of my eye Dad gave me an unnecessary wink. I don't know how he guessed it, but he wasn't oblivious to what was happening. That cemented my courage. It was worth asking.
Act natural, Nora.
"So, Tai...since you'll be staying in Toronto for some time...my friends bought tickets to Canada's Wonderland for my birthday gift. We're planning to go in a couple weeks. Do you want to come with us?"