Chapter 36 Sam #2
I give my head a shake and bite my cheek, buying time so I don’t launch into some unhinged soliloquy about how she’s not simply “someone.” She feels like more, and it’s a thought I keep having to push down.
“I don’t kiss and tell, but it was a fun week.” I downplay what it was. Put on the persona I wore during media scrums after a tough loss. Hide away my true feelings.
Nora glares at me above her water glass as she takes a sip. Maybe I’m not as good at hiding things as I used to be. To be fair, it has been a while, and I’m out of practice.
She sets her glass down and sits back in her chair, shrewd hazel eyes narrowed behind her glasses. They’re the same eyes my mom had. The same as her mom. It feels a bit like she’s channelling Caroline Keefer, and I’m about to get one helluva lecture. I straighten, preparing for it.
“What’s new at the store?” The question leaves me speechless for a few seconds. I was ready to defend my earlier statement, and she came out of right field with it.
I blink a few times before answering. I tell her that nothing has changed.
My aunt, Dad’s much younger sister, Stella, is starting a book club and leaning heavily into social media.
Trying to draw the younger generation in.
As usual, she’s right. Our clientele has always been dominated by the over-sixty crowd, but suddenly we’re getting under-thirties flocking to the massive Romantasy section Stella has worked hard to curate.
“Are you happy?” she inquires when I’m done droning on about the new flooring in the children’s section. I clearly didn’t do a good job of sounding enthusiastic about flooring.
“Yeah,” I say, far too quickly.
“You’re a terrible liar, you know. Aside from the way your voice changes, you swallow before you speak. I bet you suck at poker.”
I do suck at poker, but I always assumed it was because I never cared much about playing.
“My mom keeps me in the know. And while I wish I was hearing it from you, Stella keeps the family up-to-date on all the goings on. I know about the book club. I follow all the store’s accounts online. You’re on it occasionally, did you know?”
“What?” I’m not a social media person. You learn real quick to stay off the internet when you’re a popular topic of conversation.
“Relax, you’re never front and centre, but there are a few posts where you’re in the background.
You’re actually kind of famous. Hello,” she swings her attention to the server who comes by to take our order.
And the minute I’ve given mine, she’s right back to it.
“The grump, the hot grump, McGrumpy. And then a few others I don’t feel comfortable saying out loud.
There are genuinely people who are talking about planning a trip to see if they can put a smile on that face. ”
I choke on my water. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, come on, Sam. You were a hot commodity when you were playing. Remember when I was photographed with you and then again leaving your flat?”
That was as funny as it was disturbing.
“Unfortunately.”
“My parents have both framed on the mantel,” she says.
I roll my eyes because they would.
“It’s only a matter of time before your fandom gets wind of your new career and flocks across the pond. Could be great for business.”
I have no doubt. And yet it sounds like a special kind of hell. There’s only one person I want to make that trip, and well, I’m not going to think about it.
“And how about you, Nor? How’s life? Anyone special in it?”
She gives me a knowing smile but thankfully indulges my change of subject. “Life is great. There’s no one, and I’m not looking for there to be. I’m very happily single,” she says smugly.
“I bet your mother is loving that.”
She sighs, the mask slipping for the first time since we got here.
“I’m—oh, thank you.” She smiles up at our server as a mushroom pizza is placed in front of her, keeping her eyes on the pie until we’re alone again.
“I’m dealing with some health things, and it’s easier to concentrate on that and work rather than a relationship. ”
“Nora,” I hiss, bracing my arms on either side of my pizza. “What’s—”
Her hand snaps up, effectively cutting me off.
“I don’t have answers yet. And I’m not in the habit of speculating.
If I talk about it, people will do that, and I don’t feel comfortable sharing until I know more.
Until I actually have concrete answers. My doctor told me to manage my stress, and this is me doing that. ”
“But who knows?”
She smiles weakly at me. “You.”
I stare back dumbly because how can I be the only one who knows? Especially since I’ve been terrible at keeping in touch, stuck dealing with my own issues and apparently forgetting about others.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been better at reaching out,” I mutter, slumping back into the chair.
“Yeah well… You’ve had your own shit to work through.
” She’s looking at me like she knows more than I’ve told her, and it dawns on me that I’m fine if she does.
I’m over hiding things. If I learned anything over the last two weeks, it’s that being open is easier than shutting it all away and trying to hold the doors closed.
Conversation turns lighter after that. Nora runs workshops for amateur potters, and while to me it sounds tedious having to teach newcomer after newcomer how to do the most basic things, she seems to get a kick out of it.
She also has an exhibit coming up in a couple of months, which I promise I’ll consider coming over for.
I’m actively trying to be the big brother figure I grew up being to her.
Something I’ve drifted away from in the years since my parents' deaths.
“I love ya, cuz!” Nora yells from where she’s leaning dramatically from the train door. “Bon voyage!”
I wave back, trying not to be noticed. I hear her cackle as someone approaches me, and I flip her off mentally before being forced to shake the hand of an enthusiastic stranger.