AN; Norah eats eggs and friendship dilemmas seem to be the new norm. Song that half inspired me for the chapter was Lonely Shade of Blue by Nick Leng. You guys' comments make my day and i love you all soooo much. Enjoy this one!
I woke the next morning with the memory of her body imprinted on my mind and hands. It was still as if I could feel her, every part of her; soft belly, pink-bitten lips, strong red tongue, fluttering heart, the shape of her ribs, her smell right where her neck and shoulder met. I could still hear my preening as she praised me, and her tired voice in my hair. My daze from the day previous still hadn't worn off. I wasn't really sure if it was a daze anymore though, or rather the lingering satisfaction of hearing what I'd been waiting for.
I need you, Norah. The words still made my heart rev up inside me like some powerful motor. Oh, to be needed!
I thought about being needed as I showered, as I pissed, as I changed into my uniform, as I said goodbye and on the road down to school. I hadn't been thinking of much else. And because of that, I didn't realise until I was around the corner from school that I still didn't have Jackie. We hadn't spoken in over a week, and I still hadn't planned anything sensible to say. The realisation struck me with an impossible anxiety, and I turned on my heel and skulked back up to my house.
Even if I went, I couldn't avoid her. We had classes together, and the building was only small. There were only so many places I could go, and eventually (and awkwardly) we would run into one another. Then what would I do? Gush a poor apology and fall to my knees begging? Or just walk right through her like a ghost? If I did the latter, we'd surely never go back to normal, but the former would only damage us further.
Some of the girls from my class called to me on the way up the road, asking where I'd been and if I was okay, but I was on high alert. I didn't want to run into Jackie on the way up. I spoke to them briefly, backing up with every word. I was going to take the long way home, just to avoid the stretching road that most students took to school. I took a sharp left turn, hiking up over a worn wooden fence and dropping into a tall grass field. Those kinds of fields were easy to scare yourself in. The blades of grass came up by my temples; if I jumped, I would see the rising of hills and the pimpled stretch of fields off to the west. This way was longer, only by a few minutes, but it kept me off the roads and brought me right up to my backyard.
Standing still would frighten me. I'd scare myself into thinking there was a rustling nearing me, a figure stalking through the grass, close enough to yank me into their grasp. But if I thought too much of that, I'd start looking over my shoulder, and there was no use in that since they could come at any angle. I was defenceless.
I started to run a bit. Then quickly, using my arms to swat away the lengths of grass. My legs had started to itch with the dryness of the field, and Twin's advancing summer. I was giddy; jumping and panting as I sprinted.
By then, my dad would've left for work and like every other day for the past two or so weeks, I'd have the house to myself. It wasn't quite as fun as I found it in the beginning, faintly under the aching pain of my previous heartbreak. I think I'd just enjoyed the lonesomeness to grieve.
I smiled to myself as I ran. There was no need for grievance anymore. I was needed.
My hands, in their frivolous swatting, found my backyard fence, knowing it by its chipped black paint and battered posts. I hit it accidentally at first, then fumbled and grabbed, launching over it and into the safety of my yard. I imagined the thing chasing me scratching its head at the forcefield my yard fence provided and slinking back into the hide of the grass. With that thought, I regained my breath and fished through my pockets for my keys.
The kitchen blinds were slanted. No one was home, and the sound of the back door opening with my push echoed into the empty house. Again with it's closing; a sigh and click.
In a few days, it would be Jackie's birthday. And she would turn eighteen thinking I didn't care about her anymore. The fact made me squat down in my kitchen and rub my hands through my hair roughly. I had to fix it, I knew that, but how, I didn't know.
I went upstairs and changed out of my grassy-smelling uniform into something more comfortable; some loose sweatpants and a top. I left the bat by the back door that day, instead deciding to loosen and lie on the couch for the morning. The couch Mio and I had made feverish love on, and then coiled together, bare and far too dependent. Who else was I to depend on anymore beside her? I'd pushed all other factors out of my life so that it could only be her. It was terrible, but I couldn't bring myself to hate it at all.
Thinking of her sometimes proved to be some kind of secret call. Because just after twelve, whilst I was strewn across the couch, immersed in a Soviet Union documentary, the door knocked. It had been the same knock as the day before, so I leapt to it, my lips already raising in smile.
Memorising a knock was strange, but perhaps that was what it was to be in love; to memorise everything about your lover, down to the finer details.
Sure enough, she was standing on the porch when I pulled the door back and shaking her head. She looked disappointed, but only slightly, I could see better emotions in her features.
"I was hoping you'd go back to school today," she said.
She looked like she had prepared to stay anyway. Her hair was tied back loosely from her face and was dressed very casually, down to the slip-ons at her feet.I was leaning against the door, admiring her, perversely wondering if her underwear was pretty beneath like it had been the day before.
"Too scared," I said, stepping aside to let her walk in.
She came past me, and I closed the door, watching unzip her jacket but not take it off. "Why?" She asked.
"Jackie and I are not on great terms." It wasn't the subject to be smiling about, but I couldn't help it. My mood had instantly been uplifted, any feel of anxiety I had was melted. The woman who needed me was standing before me. She was no good for me, but at the same time utterly perfect. It was a dilemma of romance.
Mio frowned and sighed, gaze skipping between my mouth and my eyes. "Have you even eaten yet?"
I shook my head slowly. Honestly, it felt nice to have someone worrying and caring about me. Her concern made me want to scoop her up and kiss her until she could be kissed no more. But aside from the physical things, I also craved the more emotional side of the romance. I wanted to watch movies with her, fall asleep and wake up beside her, have her call me when she thought of me, go back to the beach together. But very few of those things were possible.
"Can I use the kitchen? I'll cook something for you," she said, glancing through the hall.
"Of course."
We went through into the kitchen, and I stood by her, staring lovingly, as she went about preparing eggs for me. She shortly asked where certain things were, but everything else she did alone.
I took off her jacket for her whilst she was looking for the eggs, draping it over the back of one of the dining chairs. She looked amazingly sophisticated in the most casual way possible in her white blouse and black ankle-length trousers. Her socks were cute, something I probably had in my drawer upstairs. They were white low-rise ones with lacy frills that peeked out of her slip-on pumps. She'd unbuttoned the cuffs of her blouse and rolled them back neatly to the crease of her elbow. When she concentrated, she clenched her jaw. I saw the tough muscle flexing at the side of her face as she focused. Her fingers were so perfect, so thin and long, like mine but more tanned and better shaped.
That day, she wasn't wearing her wedding ring.
I smiled. I wanted to kiss that finger, lick that finger, fellate that finger, hold that finger. I thought about buying a ring, not as serious as the one that previously occupied the space, and replacing it. But she already had some material of me on her, silvery glitter dangling from her ears. Similar to the material piece of her I kept hanging around my neck. Even then, it was there, obscured under my dark t-shirt.
"Do you have to stare so intimately while I cook?" Mio asked, jaw flexing even as she smiled.
A sudden heat flushed my cheeks, more with joy than embarrassment. "I think I do," I said softly.
Her gaze never strayed from the sizzling pan, but I felt as if she was looking right at me. Her nail was tapping a pattern against the countertop.
"What happened?" She glanced at me then, but only briefly.
I hummed as a substitute for 'what?'.
"With Jackie - what happened?"
"Oh, I really pissed her off," I said, "I avoided her and didn't talk to her at all while I was having a rough week. And I was really stupid. I held the door closed while she was trying to get to me, obviously worried, then she swore through the letterbox and hasn't spoken to me since."
Mio frowned, moving the eggs gently around the pan. "There'll be an easy way to make up with her. Jackie is stubborn, but only for a week at a time, then she's easy. I'm sure she really misses you actually. You just have to say the right thing."
"Shall I tell her I'm gonna become her stepmom?" I teased.
"Not funny," Mio said sternly, but she was smiling down into the pan.
She dished the perfect eggs onto a plate I produced from the overhead cabinet, and sprinkled a reasonable amount of salt and pepper over the top.
My house didn't have a fancy breakfast bar like Mio's. Only a very simple brown wooden dining table with a drab tablecloth, marked with tiny swirls. So, I sat down at that to eat, and she did too, despite her not having anything to eat herself. I took a forkful to my mouth, chewed and swallowed, feeling her gazing at me.
"Don't you want any?" I asked, speaking as politely as I could around my eggs.
"No, no," she insisted, leaning on her palm, "all for you."
"You are a very good cook," I said.
She beamed. "You like it?"
"Very much," I said, nodding. Her seeking my approval seemed strange, but not bad. I liked it. It made me feel like I really meant something to her, to have influence.
Mio smiled, and reached forward, gently tucking my hair away from my mouth as I ate. My heart was throbbing. Her hands were warm. Everything felt so easy.
"I'd kiss you but my mouth is eggy," I mumbled, looking at her as she gazed at me.
She burst out laughing and said, "that's okay." Then she ran her thumb across my bottom lip, pressing the pad of it down like she was kissing me through her hand. I kissed her thumb back.
-
I was left feeling encouraged. The next morning I got ready for school with the intention of actually going. I'd taken Mio's easy advice on Jackie's forgiveness and weaved a plan together in my mind. I was going to face it head-on. So head-on that I waited on the curb for her, eager to squash our beef as soon as I could. I swayed on my feet, greeting familiar underclassmen and others alike.
There was a humidity brewing in Twin; heat was growing, summer was advancing, obviously much slower than everywhere else in the States. But that was Twin - the official middle-of-nowhere, walled by thick forests, known only by its beautiful salt lake and hidden without it. Wanting to go there was like responding to the stirring call of the abyss. Not only was it boring, but it was a place of nothingness. You would go there to disappear, perhaps retire, but to not be seen. The only people that would see you there were the regulars, people who have lived there their whole life, not entertaining any thought to leave. I'd thought about my entire life. Why my parents made the decision to raise me there I'd never know, or understand. But the thought of escape, though it had always been so easy, made college in Canada much more enticing.
With the growing heat, the summer uniforms had been encouraged - which weren't really much different; just short-sleeve button-ups and ankle socks. Most students had just stopped wearing their jumpers, meaning seas of navy became seas of white at the start and end of the day.
Jackie didn't pass me. I heard the first bell of the day and I was still standing on the curb, waiting. Neither was she in the hall, or hanging around. I thought perhaps she'd just changed her routine as I'd stopped coming, and she hadn't known if I was coming back. She'd probably start coming earlier or later, and taking new routes in the halls.
So, I waited.
On my first break, I trailed around, searching through our usual hang-out spots and idly chatting to others, hoping they'd mention her. But nothing came up. It wasn't until lunch that I realised the last place she could be was the pool.
I'd had so much time to think and plan, and suddenly it had just gone from me. My mind was a void of static noise by the time I'd reached the changing rooms. What I would say would have to just flow off the tongue, be something fresh on my mind and honest. Which wasn't a bad thing to be, if you weren't in a situation like mine.
When she saw me, she scowled. But she said nothing. I was expecting cussing, but in response to her silence, I realised that she wouldn't do something like that. She had nothing to cuss at. She was annoyed with me, but not furious - more confused than anything most likely.
"How are you?" I asked sheepishly, trying to sound as casual as possible.
Jackie's face grew very hard and blank, like she was locking me out. "How are you?"
"Better," I said.
She was sitting on one of the benches, back against the wall. "I see."
I stood very awkwardly and didn't say anything. The loss of the plan had been detrimental. I needed to say something. Jackie was obviously teeming with confusion and irritation, it was bulging at the seams of her blanked out expression.
"Are you gonna tell me what happened?" She asked flatly.
"I was just really sick," I lied.
"So you slammed the door back on me and held it closed and ignored me?" She said with a raised eyebrow; the first crack in her steely expression. I was testing her nerves, I could see that, but I didn't know what else to say.
"I didn't want you to catch it," I said.
Jackie suddenly got very teary-eyed and her bottom lip wobbled. My heart lurched in a panic. She pressed her hand over her forehead like I was paining her. Hurriedly, I got down to my knees in front of her, wanting to show her I was listening and I was close to her. I loved her, she was my best friend - the best best friend I'd ever had. Even if she thought I was an idiot.
"You never tell me anything. Why don't you feel you can tell me things?" Her voice was feathered and thinning was emotion. I'd pushed her to the point of tears! I was so awful that it was starting to pain me, and those around me.
I swallowed. "There's just nothing to tell."
"But there is! About silly little things too!" She burst, not raising her voice any higher than it was, but letting it harden.
"Then they're just silly, Jacks," I said, playing it off with a light shrug despite my heavy guilt.
"No," she said sharply, "it shows you don't trust me with the smallest things."
"I do!"
"Then who is she?"
My heart dropped. Like it was a brick plummeting through the shell of my body. Anxiety had leapt up in me with tiny, reaching hands, all calling danger! danger! and telling me to run. I can play this off, I can, hold tight, hang in there, I told myself. But had she seen it on my face? Seen the drop in concerning expression to sudden scrambling panic to save my own hide. To protect Jackie from a harrowing truth. More to protect Mio.
"Who?" My voice rasped.
"The girl. The woman. Whoever," Jackie said, eyes rising to meet mine.
"Who?" I asked again. I didn't know what else to ask.
"Stop it!" She snapped, eyes watering all over again. "I know there's someone! And it's so silly that you feel you can't tell me. Isn't this what best friends talk about? Did I make mistakes with Giana? Because I'm sorry, Norah, I'm so sorry." And she burst into tears.
My heart ached, realising my sneaking around had been more obvious than I'd imagined and the pain I'd caused had been much deeper than I'd realised. She was supposed to be my best friend.
I held her close to me, stroking her hair and while she was still sobbing, I whispered, "I do trust you, you're my best friend. I'm just... sorry."
She said nothing to that, just continued to cry into my shoulder. But she was hugging me back, holding me and shuddering with her tears. I held her until it became less frequent and eventually stopped.
I realised there was only so much longer I could hide what was really going on.