Thirty-One
Poppy closed the door behind Norah and went back into the living room. She glanced at her guitar leaning against the coffee table, a silent witness to the evening's unexpected turn.
‘You bastard,’ she whispered to it. ‘You just had to make everything sexy, didn’t you? Couldn’t help yourself!’
The guitar, obviously, didn’t reply.
‘Oh, now you’ve got nothing to say?’ Poppy spat.
She sat down on the couch, turning the anger away from the guitar to the place it needed to be—on her. She shouldn’t have played the song. She’d known what she was doing, what she hoped the music would achieve. But getting what she wanted had been the worst thing that could have happened.
Because Norah had pulled back, she didn’t want this. She’d never wanted it. She was just in a bad spot, yet again. Poppy’s lips were never more than a life raft.
But she wasn’t going to let it go the way it had last time. The first chance she got, she was going to face this head-on, talk to Norah, and air it all out. Then, they could go back to being friends. Poppy could manage that. She was an adult now.
Right?
***
Poppy was behind the counter of The Sugar Cube, but her brain was elsewhere. She’d had a rough morning.
It had taken just about every drop of will she had this morning to convince Luna that she wasn’t going to school as Elsa from Frozen. Luna had negotiated masterfully, saying she wasn’t going to school otherwise.
Poppy didn’t have any cards to play at that point except bribery, winning her over with a promised visit to McDonald's at the weekend. Poppy had felt like a failed parent as she took an appropriately dressed Luna to school. But she got the kid in the door, a thin victory and a draining one.
Poppy had been hitting the coffee hard as a result, and she was on the jittery side by the time Norah came in at twelve fifteen.
‘Hi,’ Norah said, smiling widely. Poppy could have counted all her teeth.
‘Hey. Missed you at the gates this morning,’ Poppy observed.
‘I was running early for a change,’ Norah said, the hundred-watt smile still going strong.
Poppy couldn’t match it. So she went the only way she knew. ‘What’s up with your face?’
Norah’s smile fell off. ‘What?’
‘You’re smiling like... It’s a bit Joker if I’m honest,’ Poppy said frankly.
Norah laughed nervously. ‘Sorry. I’m just trying to be normal. I guess I missed.’
Poppy nodded. ‘Sit down, I’ll bring your usual.’
Norah went and sat down while Poppy made a coffee.
Poppy scanned the cafe. It was not busy yet, but it would be shortly. Hard to squeeze in a heart-to-heart around the lunch crowd. She’d have to make it quick. The rush was upon her.
She took the coffee over to Norah. ‘Can I sit with you a minute?’
Norah nodded, looking slightly daunted. ‘I hoped you would.’
They were on the same page, at least. This was going to be a good old-fashioned air clearing.
‘Right, so...’ Poppy began, lacing her fingers together across the table, which was weird. She felt like she was interviewing Norah for a job. ‘So last night... happened.’
Norah nodded. ‘Yup,’ she said.
Poppy hesitated in case there was going to be more. There wasn’t. Norah was letting Poppy do the heavy lifting. Poppy didn’t know if that was fair, but she was willing to do it anyway.
‘We’d had wine, and then you watched me play the guitar, which is, of course, a known aphrodisiac,’ Poppy said, trying to keep things light for both their sakes.
A nervous giggle escaped Norah. She was quick to shut it down.
‘But that’s not... We’re not going down that road again, are we?’ Poppy asked.
It was a real question. Part of her still clung to the tiniest hope that she might not seem sure that she wasn’t travelling that way with Poppy.
‘I can’t,’ Norah said with conviction.
A little bit of Poppy shrivelled up and died. Another part of her sighed and fetched the shovel.
‘I don’t mean to imply you wanted anything else. Like, I’m sure you’re just as... I mean, I know it was an accident for you too,’ Norah babbled.
Poppy didn’t quite know what to say to that. She didn’t want to lie, and she didn’t want to tell the truth. So she just stayed silent. You couldn’t use someone’s silence against them, could you? That was why you stayed quiet during arrests. What you said could be used against you. That also applied to awkward post-snog chats.
Poppy and Norah looked at each other for a long moment, the weight of unspoken truths hanging between them. Poppy was no longer sure whether the silence was a strategic move or just sheer panic-induced paralysis. Either way, it was buying her time.
Norah was the first to drop the eye contact. The moment had passed. ‘So, we’re good, right? We can just go back to normal?’ she asked as she fidgeted with her coffee cup, her voice hopeful but tinged with doubt.
Poppy cleared her throat, trying to find her voice again. ‘Sure, yeah. Normal. Like it never happened,’ she said, forcing a smile that felt as natural as Norah’s.
Norah’s face softened with relief. ‘Great. I was worried we might get weird.’
Poppy raised an eyebrow. ‘Weird? Us? Never.’
They both laughed, though it was more of a nervous titter than genuine amusement. Poppy could feel the lunch crowd beginning to trickle in, the murmur of voices growing louder. She needed to wrap this up before the café turned into a bustling madhouse.
‘Look, Norah,’ Poppy said, leaning in slightly. ‘Whatever happens, we’re still friends. Always.’
Norah smiled. ‘I hope so. I would hate for this to go sideways. I like having you as a friend.’
‘Me, too,’ Poppy said. ‘Right, I better get back behind the counter.’
Norah gave her a small nod, and Poppy got up from the table. She headed back to the counter, bracing herself for the lunchtime rush. As she started taking orders and making coffees, she couldn’t help but steal glances at Norah, who was finishing her coffee and scrolling through her phone, looking as if nothing had happened.
But something had happened. Something significant. Poppy felt it in the pit of her stomach, a gnawing sensation that wouldn’t go away. She tried to push it down, focusing instead on the steady stream of customers. But the feelings kept bubbling up, no matter how many lattes she made.
As the lunch rush hit its peak, Poppy found herself in a rhythm, exchanging pleasantries with customers, flashing her best customer-service smile, and keeping things moving. But her mind kept tripping over the night before. It had felt so good before it felt so fucking awful.
She glanced at Norah again, who was now chatting with another customer, some bloke. He was clearly trying it on.
Poppy watched them talk, and she thought, She turned you down because it’s just not going to be you. Ever. Because you’re never in the right time or place, and you’re never the right someone. But it will be someone else one day. And you’ll have to watch.
As Norah slid out of the café a minute later, Poppy put in an order for a bacon sandwich, and she thought about her guitar, sitting at home. She wondered if she might have the energy to smash the thing to bits tonight.