Chapter Thirty-Eight Nora
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Nora
To see yourself clearly is to see the world clearly.
—Rules for Witches
It was a whole lot of moving. Between getting the apartment cleaned out and then refurnished as they got it set up to be temporary housing for women in situations like theirs, women who no longer had a place to stay because of a divorce, a death, a separation, or any other circumstance that left them in the lurch, Nora was vacating her house. And moving in with Sam.
While she hoped that her move wouldn’t intersect with Ben, it did. He ended up getting discharged right as she was getting the last of her boxes loaded into her car.
“Jesus, Nora. Can’t we talk about this?” Ben said.
“No. There’s nothing to talk about. I’m moving in with Sam.”
“What?”
“I’m in love with Sam. Thank you for the time apart, which helped me finally see that.”
“Oh, I knew it. I knew you were screwing him behind my back.”
“I wasn’t, actually. If I were sleeping with him, I would’ve married him in the first place, Ben.
” She took a deep breath. “The one thing I’ll say is that I’m sorry.
I’m sorry, and I’m not trying to be hurtful when I tell you this, but .
. . you didn’t have all of me. And I’m sorry for that.
I’m sorry that the way I grew up made it hard for me to recognize that.
I’m sorry that it made it so I married you when I shouldn’t have.
I swear I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t know at the time I wasn’t giving you everything. ”
“My mom said you weren’t good enough for me. She was right. She was right. You’re just trailer trash. You can’t help yourself. Water seeks its own level.”
What he was saying was deeply messed up. Deeply hurtful. At least, the way he meant it. But the truth was, he was right, even if he wasn’t right in the way he meant to be.
For her, it had to be Sam. For her, it had to be a man who truly understood her.
Who saw her. It had been what she was running from.
Because she hadn’t wanted that. She had wanted to paste over it, to make herself into something new.
She had thought she could outrun her trauma and not have to deal with it.
Not have to process it. But the chickens were always going to come home to roost, and there was no running away from what had happened.
From the pain she experienced in her life. She understood that now.
“You were never good enough for me,” she said.
“You never actually loved me. You love the woman I dressed up as, and some of that is my own fault. But you were never strong enough to handle me. To take on everything I went through. Everything I am. Sam is. I had to get good enough for him. I had to get strong enough for him. But I’m there now.
I think the way you handled ending our marriage was terrible.
I deserved better. But I’m glad that it’s over. I’ve never been happier.”
With that, she walked out of the house for the last time. The house that had a playroom devoted to her and nothing more. That house that had never, ever felt like hers.
It was like finally closing the door on something she’d needed to get rid of for a very long time.
Their first night together in Sam’s house, which was now their house, Sam looked up at her over dinner. “So, when are you going to write your book, Nora?”
Because Sam actually knew. Knew her. Knew it was one of the things she’d been holding herself back from all this time.
“Maybe it’s time.”
“Do you have an idea?”
“Yes, I do. I think I want to write a book about women finally figuring out who they are. Finding their magic.”
“It’ll be a bestseller.”
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too.”
And when he said that, she knew he meant he loved all of her. Because he was the only person who had ever known her like that.
To realize she’d had it all this time wasn’t sad. It was wonderful. She had spent her life being so cynical. Believing in very little.
Now she believed in everything.
Her own magic most of all.