28. Nora
28
NORA
“ C ome on, pull it together,” I manage to say around my giggles. “We need to get this video done and then we can do whatever we want.” I plant my hands on Alex’s chest and push him away. His arms reluctantly release their hold around my waist.
“I know. But I haven’t seen you all week.” He heaves a dramatic sigh, and I secretly agree. It’s been a long week with me picking up extra shifts to cover for a sick coworker, along with the regular editing and management tasks that are becoming standard for the From Couch to Potatoes blog and video channel. We’ve sent each other about a million texts, but it’s not the same as being in person.
“I’ve missed you too, but we have to film this. Everything is going so well with the show. I don’t want to lose all our progress.”
I smooth back my hair, and Alex presses a quick kiss to my cheek.
“You know I wouldn’t want to do anything to sabotage the show. I have it to thank for bringing you into my life, after all.”
“I think you should probably thank Annie and Kayla for meddling,” I counter with a laugh.
“You’re right. I should send them flowers or something.”
“I’ll help you pick some out later. Are you ready?” I palm the remote to start the video recording.
Alex claps his hands and puts on his game face as he moves into position beside me and looks at the camera. “Let’s make some muffins.”
I do the intro as usual, and we go straight into mixing up chocolate chip muffins. This is the first recipe we’ve recorded since we took our relationship in a romantic direction and it’s weird how it feels the same but also different. We follow the same routine, except every comment, look, and brush of fingertips feels significant now. I wonder if our audience will pick up on our new dynamic and if so, how they will feel about it. I have a feeling there will be at least a few broken hearts if word gets out that Alex is taken.
As soon as I click the button to stop the video, Alex leans in and nuzzles my neck, pressing a kiss to my collarbone and making me shiver. He steps back with a chuckle when my stomach rumbles loudly enough for both of us to hear.
“Sounds like you need a muffin.”
“Or two,” I agree. “Do you have any sandwich stuff? It seems like the responsible thing to eat something with a bit of nutrition before a chocolate chip muffin.”
Alex flaps his hand. “Responsibility is overrated. But if you want a sandwich, a sandwich you shall have.”
He pulls open the fridge and starts removing sliced turkey, cheese, and a selection of condiments while I move aside our muffin mess.
“How about toasting them, like a grilled cheese?” I ask.
When Alex agrees enthusiastically, I withdraw a skillet from the cabinet beside the sink. After having spent a considerable amount of time in his kitchen, I’ve gotten a pretty good feel for where everything is.
I reach for a bottle of mustard and some mayo for my sandwich. Alex shakes a bottle of ketchup for his.
“You eat ketchup on your sandwiches?” I ask, trying to sound interested and not disgusted. I’m all about trying different foods, but that sounds gross. To be fair, I’m not a huge fan of ketchup in general.
“Sure, ketchup is good on almost everything.”
I’m about to disagree when a loud pop makes me squeal instead. I feel a sharp stinging on my arm and I look down to see that I’m covered in blood.
My heart rate spikes and I feel a scream climbing up my throat.
“Whoa, that was wild!” I look up to see Alex holding a lidless ketchup bottle in his hand. The scream finds its way out and his head whips up to look at me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, tossing the bottle in the sink and rushing forward to grip my wrists. “Are you hurt?”
I don’t know whether to shake my head or nod yes. My arm still stings, but there’s no blood there. It’s only on the front of my shirt. My brain is slowly starting to make sense of what it’s seeing, and I take a deep breath. “I’m fine. I just…I think the ketchup lid hit me and then I thought…I thought this was blood.” I gesture at my front.
Alex visibly relaxes. “Oh man, I thought something was really wrong.”
“I did too,” I say a bit defensively. Then, much to my surprise, a giggle bursts out of me. The next thing I know, I’m bent over at the waist, laughing hysterically as my panic drains away.
“How in the world did that happen?” I ask when I finally start to regain control of myself. I wipe tears from under my eyes and breathe deeply.
“I don’t know. I guess I shook it too hard?”
I lift up the bottom of my shirt and sniff, wrinkling my nose at the pungent odor. “I think your ketchup had gone bad. I bet it was just sitting there building up pressure and when you shook it...”
“Well, I hope that’s something that never happens to me again.” Alex glances around and groans. “This is going to take forever to clean up. I wish I could have the poppy seed spill again.”
“You aren’t kidding.” Splashes of red dot the floor, the counters, the cabinets, and, of course, me. “I don’t suppose you have a shirt I can borrow?”
“Come with me.” Alex leads me to his bathroom, pulling a shirt from his dresser on the way. “You can change in here. I guess I’ll start mopping.”
Once we get the ketchup eruption under control, it only takes a few minutes to make and eat our sandwiches, thereby earning those muffins, which were worth the wait, by the way. Now that I’m sure I’m not about to bleed to death, I can’t get over how good this feels as we cook, eat, and clean up together, chatting and laughing and stealing kisses all the while. I know it’s only been a week, but my mind is already jumping forward, wondering what it would be like to have this experience on the daily.
It’s way, way too early to bring up the “M” word, especially with everything that happened last time Alex attempted wedlock. The last thing I want to do is rush him or freak him out. But that doesn’t stop me from thinking about it. I remember all the times I’ve heard people say that when you find your person, you just know , and I’m beginning to suspect that there’s a chance I might understand what that feels like now.
“It’s still early,” Alex says when we’re done. “You want to watch a movie?”
Translation: Do you want to snuggle up on the couch together under a blanket?
Yes. Yes, I do.
Alex finds an action flick we’ve both seen before. We settle in and start watching, but my mind quickly wanders until I’m not paying attention to the movie at all. I’m so lost in thought that I jump when Alex laughs at a funny line.
He shifts to look at me. “Sorry, were you asleep? Did I wake you up?”
“No, I wasn’t sleeping. I guess I just zoned out for a minute there.”
He studies me for a moment, then reaches for the remote and pauses the movie. “What’s wrong, Rose?”
I smile reassuringly. “Nothing. I’m fine. Let’s just watch the movie.” I really don’t want to spoil our evening together, since it will probably be several days before I can see him again.
“Did I do something?” His brows draw tightly together and I can tell he’s not going to let this go. Add “persistent” to his list of personality traits that I mostly admire. It can be a double-edged sword.
“No, it has nothing to do with you. I’ve just been thinking about my parents a lot this week, and I’m considering telling them the truth soon.”
“Okay.” He nods. “What made you decide that after all this time?”
“You did.”
“Me?” He looks surprised.
“Yes, you.” I smile at him, then sober as I try to explain. “All of this…” I make a vague circular gesture around us. “Plus the show and the hair and everything that has changed…it’s got me thinking maybe it’s time for a fresh start. And it really helped that you didn’t act like I was a terrible person when I told you what happened. That made me think maybe my parents wouldn’t either. They’re not bad people.” I fiddle with the edge of our blanket. “Me not telling them was all about my embarrassment and shame, not them. At the time, it felt too hard to tell them, but now it's starting to feel even harder to keep holding onto this secret.”
The feel of his thumb gently tracing circles over the back of my hand is calming, and I’m grateful for his quietly supportive presence as I verbally process.
“I guess it also helps that the show has been doing so well,” I admit. “It’ll be easier to confess my failure when I can follow it up with a success. But now the thing that’s keeping me from calling them is the fact that I haven’t talked to them in like, six months. We’ve grown apart, which just makes it harder, and which is entirely my fault. I let this secret drive a wedge between us, and that’s the thing I regret most, you know?” I’m so focused on getting all this out that I’m surprised when I feel a wet plop on my arm and realize I’m crying.
Alex’s arm comes around my shoulders and he pulls me close, planting a kiss on top of my head. After a few minutes, the tears start to slow, and I sit up and swipe my cheeks with my sleeve.
I sniff. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil our time together.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I’m glad you told me. Is there anything I can do to help? Do you want me to be there when you call them?”
“Actually…” I take a deep breath. “What if I call them right now before I lose my nerve?”
He sits up straighter, his earnest gaze never leaving my face. “If that’s what you want. I’ll be right here the whole time if you need anything.”
I nod and sniff again as I reach for my phone. My thumb hovers over my mom’s contact, then I tap it firmly, my heart racing as the phone begins to ring and I put it on speaker.
“Nora? Is everything okay?” My mom’s voice is colored with surprise and concern. A wave of remorse floods over me. It shouldn’t be cause for alarm when a daughter calls her mother.
“I’m good, Mom. I just wanted to talk to you about something, if you have a minute.”
“Of course, I have plenty of time. What’s up?”
“Is Dad around? It might be better to tell you both together.” I wince at how serious I sound.
“Alright,” Mom says warily. “I’ll go get him. Don’t go anywhere.”
I hear muffled voices and glance up at Alex, who gives me an encouraging smile. “You got this,” he mouths.
“Hey darlin’.” The sound of my dad’s deep, familiar voice almost makes me choke up again. “You alright? Your mama said you wanted to talk to us about something.”
“Yes, I’m fine, really. I just wanted to let you know something that I’ve been keeping to myself for quite a while.” I hesitate just for an instant, then launch into the story I told Alex, recounting my expulsion from culinary school. When I finish, my parents are so quiet I almost wonder if they’ve hung up, until my dad says, “Is that all?”
A disbelieving huff of laughter escapes me. “You aren’t disappointed that I got kicked out of school and wasted the money you gave me? Or that I’m springing this on you years after it happened?”
“Sweetie…we knew,” Mom says gently.
I rear back in surprise and cut my eyes to Alex, who shrugs and presses his lips together like he’s trying to hold back a smile.
“You…how did you find out?”
“Well, hon, you were actin’ a little squirrely about graduation,” Dad explains. “So we did a search on the computer and found the graduating class list. You weren’t on it.”
I’m stunned. First of all, it seems I have underestimated my parents’ technological and investigative skills. Second, I don’t understand why they kept this to themselves. “Why didn’t you call me out on it?”
“We figured you had a good reason for not wanting to tell us, and we were trying to respect your privacy,” Mom explains calmly. “I do wish you would have told us, but we love you the same either way.”
“I’m sorry. I wanted you to be proud of me, and when I got kicked out, I just couldn’t face telling you.” My voice wobbles a bit and I suck in a breath, trying to keep myself together.
“Eleanora Rose Beckham, we’ve never stopped being proud of you. I’m just sorry you didn’t know that.” Dad’s voice holds a note of regret and a whole lot of love.
It’s no use. I can’t hold back the flood of tears that gushes like a geyser now. Alex jumps up and returns quickly with a box of tissues.
I accept it with a thank you and blow my nose.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Mom sounds like she might be a little damp too.
“I’m good, Mom. Better than I’ve been in a long time.”
Alex sneezes beside me, and I reflexively say, “Bless you.”
“Is someone there with you?” Mom asks, and I cringe. I probably should have told them that we were on speakerphone before now, but I was so focused on my—apparently unnecessary—confession that I didn’t think about it.
“Yeah, I’m with my boyfriend, Alex.” I’m proud that I only stumble slightly over the word “boyfriend”. It’s the first time I’ve used it, and I share a smile with Alex.
“Hi Mr. and Mrs. Beckham,” Alex says, waving at the phone like a goober. But a very cute goober who has been so supportive this evening.
“Oh, we didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” Mom says. “Wait a minute, is this the Alex from your videos?”
“That’s him. It’s very new,” I tell her. “We haven’t been a couple long.”
“I see. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Alex.”
“You as well. Your daughter is amazing, so it’s great to speak to the people who raised her. I feel like I should thank you.” He winks at me.
“Stop sucking up,” I whisper to him with a giggle.
“She’s a special girl.” Dad’s voice holds a note of warning. “Don’t forget that.”
“I don’t think I ever could, sir.” Alex’s eyes are on me, and his gaze is intense. “I’m constantly aware of it.”
“Good.” Dad sounds satisfied. “Maybe we should plan a trip to visit soon, get to know you in person and spend some time with our Nora.”
“That would be great,” I agree, and I really mean it. I haven’t seen them in over a year, and now that the air between us is clear, I find myself eager to spend some time with them and catch up on all that we’ve missed these last months.
“Now, tell me about your cooking show,” Mom says. “Your cousin sent me the link, and I watched several the other day. It looks like you’re having a lot of fun with this project.”
“We really are.” I tell her a little about how we got started and how I’m hoping that it will become a steady side income soon. “It’s going better than I hoped.”
“Well, I could have told you it would be a success.” Mom’s statement is filled with that’s-my-girl energy that I appreciate. “You have always been a hard worker with lots of ideas. It was just a matter of time before you found your path. Do you think you’ll be able to grow it big enough to quit your job at the restaurant and do it full-time one day?”
Her question shines a spotlight on a dream that I’ve barely allowed myself to even acknowledge. Creating food-related content full-time would be amazing, but it still feels out of reach, even with our success so far.
“I don’t know,” I tell her truthfully. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see. Now, tell me how the two of you have been.”