Chapter Thirteen Nora
Chapter Thirteen
Nora
By the light of the truth, may the shadow of deceit be unveiled.
—A spell for exposing lies
Do you want to go out?
Nora looked down at her phone just as she sat down on the couch. She didn’t really want to go out. She wanted to curl up at home. She felt foolish and drained and, genuinely, dealing with Sam on the heels of giving in to doing that love spell felt a little bit . . . eh.
She was afraid he would be able to see it on her. Her foolish hope.
He was the only person who really knew her. Who really knew how sad her life was. Who really knew all the dark truths she tried to keep tucked away.
He knew about her disastrous hope. Her optimism in the face of everything, and the real issue was he was the only one who knew how silly it was.
So did she want to see Sam? Absolutely. Because the alternative was staying in her empty house, and she didn’t really want to do that either.
“Hey,” she said, opting to pick up the phone and call him.
“I’m at Trigger’s.”
“You got started drinking without me and you need a designated driver?”
“I’m not drinking. I was going to order a cheeseburger, and I was hoping that maybe you would be off work and you can tell me about your new job.”
“Yeah. I can do that.”
Trigger’s was only a five-minute drive from her house, though she felt persecuted putting pants with a firm waistband and shoes back on to get in the car again.
The theater company hadn’t opened for the season yet—when it did, it would be busy in town most nights—but until then, it would remain relatively quiet.
It was a Wednesday night, so there would be some church traffic at the restaurants, but of course not at the bars.
She thought of Soraya and her blazing anger as she had cast that spell on her husband. Witchcraft! Soraya!
Biblically based witchcraft, somehow. But still.
She should feel satisfied that it turned out Soraya was kind of a hypocrite. Except it didn’t really feel all that hypocritical to Nora, as much as she wished it could.
The hurt Soraya was experiencing was real. What a shitty thing for her husband to do. Cheating on her, and then throwing her out of their house?
Nora parked on the side street near the bar and got out.
If Ben ever did anything like that . . .
Well, he doesn’t want to talk to you right now. How is that better?
She cut that thought off as she crossed the street to the narrow strip of buildings and slipped into the alleyway, opening the door and heading up the stairs to Trigger’s.
It was fairly quiet inside, the old country-western bar not really coming alive until later.
There was a barrel in the corner that used to have peanuts for the patrons to eat and throw shells on the floor, but they didn’t do that anymore because it was a liability, and also messy.
In a few hours, it would be filled with people looking to get drunk, line dance, and hook up. She and Sam would miss the rush.
But this suited her just fine.
She spotted Sam as soon as she walked in.
He was seated in the corner at a booth, facing away from her.
Broad shouldered, a baseball cap on his head, his red T-shirt stretched tight across his back, his muscles visible through the thin fabric.
That was a weird thing to focus on. Her best friend’s back muscles.
She walked across the room, maybe more loudly than strictly necessary, and took a seat across from him. “Did you order already?”
“Just a drink,” he said.
“Good. I’m starving.”
It didn’t take long for the waiter to come over and take their identical orders of a cheeseburger and fries, and Nora added a Coke to her order. She would’ve liked a drink, but she would start when she got home. Drinking alone when she was sad seemed like a great idea.
“How was the witchcraft?” he asked.
“Fine.” It made her uncomfortable that he zeroed right in on that.
Like he knew she had cast a spell. Like he could see the sad hope burning at the center of her chest. Those blue eyes had always been far too keen at seeing beneath her defenses.
She didn’t like it, but she loved him. It had always been a problem.
“Do you think you’re going to like it?”
“I think at the very least I’ll get a lot to write about.”
“You finally going to write a book?”
She scoffed. “I’m not going to write a book. You have to have money to self-publish and connections to traditionally publish, and look at me, I have none of that.”
“I think they call that self-rejection, Nora.”
“Maybe if everything was secure with Ben. Being a writer is a lot more practical when you have a dentist husband as your patron.”
“Yet, you didn’t write a book while things were good with him.”
She wanted to punch him in his handsome face. “I’m a serviceable writer. I can do copy and articles that entertain people for a minute. I don’t think I have enough in me to write a whole book.”
“That is bullshit.”
“I don’t have enough in me I want to write about.”
“Because then you’d have to deal with your issues?”
“Shut up.” She tried to laugh like this was friendly banter and not something a lot deeper and more uncomfortable. “I’m the one who went to therapy.” She cleared her throat. “Soraya’s husband is kicking her out of her house, and we’re going to help her move.”
She needed the subject change, and badly.
He lifted a brow. “Are you asking me to help?”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “I mean, you’re helping Daisy with her set. Might as well help my other friend with her divorce drama.”
“True,” he said.
She was about to say that she needed a man’s help, and since Ben wasn’t here, she had to recruit him.
The truth was, Sam was the person she would’ve asked even if Ben had been home. Ben would’ve been too busy. If they moved over the weekend, it would be his day off, and he caught up on his gaming and stuff on his days off. He worked really hard and . . .
Sam also works really hard.
The plain, matter-of-fact thought hit her hard.
Sam would always help if somebody was in need.
Not because he was sweet or anything like that.
Sam really wasn’t sweet. Sam knew what it was like to have nothing.
He hated injustice. He was the kind of person who had a tendency to grudgingly rally around anyone who needed it.
He might not crave community, but he also knew community was necessary.
“I appreciate it,” she said.
“I didn’t agree.”
“I know you didn’t. But you will. Because she’s a woman who has nothing because her husband is a douchebag.”
“Yeah. Well, I’m sorry about that.” He took a sip of his soda. “I don’t really remember who she is.”
“Soraya. She was a Bible-thumper. So it’s not like we hung out with her.”
“No. They tended to run the other way from me. Missionaries know a lost cause when they see one.” He smiled, and she wrinkled her nose.
“In my experience, they don’t, but how nice that you figured out the code to being left alone.”
His smile lifted higher, just on the left side, and her stomach lifted slightly in response. “Maybe they think I’m holy.”
“Somehow, I doubt it.”
The waiter appeared and set Nora’s drink, a basket of fries, and a basket with burgers in front of them. She just about pounced on the fries.
“Have you heard from anyone in your family lately?” he asked.
“Hell no,” she said, nearly choking on her fries. “What made you think of that?”
“I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know what the hell is up with you right now. For all I know, you could have had a tearful reunion with your mother.”
“Ha! No. Unless you think she’d cry because I punched her.”
She chose not to ask herself if she actually wanted to punch her mother, or if thinking about her made her want to cry.
“Just . . .” He looked behind her. “It’s weird you didn’t tell me that Ben left you.”
Her mouth dropped open. “He didn’t leave me. I told you that.”
“He left, and you’re separated.”
“Yeah. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was surrounded by the divorce brigade today, and I’ve had enough of the relationship doom talk.
I’m not getting divorced. We’re separated because he’s having a midlife crisis.
You’re right, doing that in Chile is rich-guy nonsense, and we absolutely would’ve made fun of him way back when.
I still kind of want to make fun of him, but he’s my husband, and if he’s feeling like he isn’t happy, then . . .”
“Maybe he should figure it out with you?” Sam finished.
“Because you’re an expert on marriage, Sam? You’ve never even let a woman have a toothbrush at your house.”
“I barely had time to have a toothbrush at the houses I lived in when I was a kid. I find that one begets the other.”
She tilted her head and stared him down. “I was in the same situation. I got married.”
He gazed back at her. “Yeah. Well. You always wanted that.”
She felt scalded again. “Do you think you’re better than me because you didn’t want stability? You didn’t want a normal life?”
“Is that what you wanted? Stability? I thought you wanted love.”
“I do. I did. But I mean . . . I wanted to be normal. Why is that so hard to understand?”
“It’s not. I guess I just figured it was a little bit late for normal.”
“You’re normal,” she said.
Except even as she said that, it felt like such a wan, insipid descriptor for him. He was something all right. He was big and handsome. Protective. He was rough, and obnoxious. And loyal down to his core. So whatever his issues were with romantic relationships, they didn’t extend to friendship.
“I know you wanted to be normal. I’ve always known that,” he added as he took a french fry out of the basket in front of him. “I certainly never wanted to get in the way of that.”
“How could you ever get in the way of that?”
He looked at her for a little longer than was strictly necessary. She sat there and did her best not to turn that over. Not too many times, anyway.
“He thinks that I upset you,” Sam said.
“I know he does. But he just . . . He’s protective.”