Chapter 25 Thursday
Thursday
(Six Days Left)
“What do you mean you don’t have bubble wrap?” I ask, inches away from pulling my hair out over Nora’s sheer lack of preparedness.
“I don’t have anything that serious,” she retorts.
I survey her bedroom, now practically empty besides her bed, her dresser, and the few miscellaneous objects that absolutely require bubble wrap.
“Plus, I didn’t know we were doing all this.
” She points to the dozens of trash bags filled with her belongings that line the hallway.
Apparently, she didn’t have anything “serious” enough to require boxes, either.
No one has volunteered to go to the store and get the necessary supplies, so trash bags it is.
“What did you think we were doing!” I throw my hands out in resignation.
“Just, like, organizing a few things.” She shrugs. “The movers aren’t coming until Friday afternoon to pick everything up.”
“That’s tomorrow.” I grab fistfuls of my hair and glare at Nora, who just shrugs.
Meg cuts the tension by strutting out of Nora’s closet and spinning around in a circle. “Is this too short on me?” The skirt of Nora’s black minidress flies up over her hips to reveal a lacy pair of blue underwear.
Nora scans her up and down with eager eyes. “Yes,” she answers. “But you need it.” Meg’s been trying on everything from Nora’s giveaway pile and making out like a bandit.
“But what if I bend down?” She leans over and pretends to pick up a piece of dust from the floor, granting me a view of her entire ass plus a little extra. “Phoebe? What do you think?”
“I think I just saw your cervix,” I tell her.
The three of us dissolve into a fit of laughter, and everything in the world feels right until all of a sudden, it doesn’t.
I stop laughing.
“What’s wrong?” Nora asks. Meg looks at me sympathetically, like she knows exactly how I’m feeling and she’s feeling it, too.
My eyes begin to burn. “I’m so sad.” I turn to Nora. “I’ll miss you so much.”
“Phoebe…” Nora starts. Meg begins to sniffle.
“I’m so excited and happy for you,” I assure her. “Not to mention proud. I just miss you already, and you’re standing right in front of me.”
“You’ll come visit,” she whispers, looking sullen but very much dry-eyed. I’ve seen Nora cry only once before, back in college, when her grandfather died. And even then, she wiped the tears away hastily and never spoke of them again.
“It won’t be the same,” Meg sobs, rushing over to Nora and throwing her arms around her neck. I join them, holding them both tightly while Meg and I soak Nora’s white tank top with our tears.
She sighs. “I’ll miss you guys, too. But don’t think you can get rid of me that fast! It’s only an hour and a half flight! I’ll be back plenty.”
We pull apart, Meg and I both looking completely disheveled while Nora’s composure remains completely intact.
“Okay,” Meg says resignedly, softly.
“Okay,” I agree and begin busying myself with packing up the rest of Nora’s things.
I rifle through the collection of fragile items I set aside, my eyes landing on a framed photo of the five of us riding Big Thunder Mountain Railroad at Disneyland.
I pick it up, smiling at the memory. “This is my favorite photo of the five of us.” I face it outward, and immediately, Meg turns around and faces the wall. Her shoulders begin bobbing up and down with quiet sobs.
“I love that one,” Nora says softly, walking toward me to get a closer look.
During our junior year of college, the five of us had taken a spontaneous trip to Disneyland. Surprisingly, none of us had ever been, and everyone was eager to try the Tower of Terror. Everyone except for Nora.
“I get really bad motion sickness,” she told us. “I can hold everyone’s stuff while you do the rides.”
“No chance,” I told her, and when we arrived at Disney, I handed her the bottle of extra-strength motion sickness pills I’d bought for the occasion.
“Just start with one, because they make you a little tired,” I told her.
She took three.
By the time we got off the Tower of Terror, Nora was so groggy she could barely keep herself upright.
“I’m fine!” she protested as Meg and I tried to help her sit down on a bench.
“You guys go ahead to Big Thunder Mountain.” I held on to Nora tightly. “We’re gonna sit here for a bit.”
“You’re not missing Big Thunder Mountain.” Nora’s words had a slight slur to them, but she led the charge to the next ride regardless. The second we took our seats on the roller coaster, Nora wedged securely in between Meg and me, her head collapsed onto my shoulder.
“Oh no,” Meg whispered as the ride began to move. We spent the whole time propping Nora’s head up so she didn’t get whiplash.
We ended up having to buy the photo that was taken toward the end of the ride.
With Nora sound asleep between Meg and me, and Alex and Jonathan with their hands in the air, completely oblivious to the whole thing, it was too good to pass up.
Meg and I got the photo framed for Nora’s birthday that year, with a special inscription carved on the bottom.
Happy 21st Birthday, Nora!
We’ll always be here to hold you up.
We love you.
Phoebe and Meg
“That was the best,” Meg says, having gotten herself together enough to join our reminiscing. “We should go back.”
“Maybe for your thirtieth, Nora?” I joke. She doesn’t respond. Instead, she just stares down at the picture in my hands, silent and unmoving.
I begin walking toward the hallway of trash bags with the frame in hand. “I’m going to wrap this up in some clothes.” I rifle through the bags, looking for the one filled with Nora’s bulky sweaters. “It should be fine.”
A guttural sob coming from the other room stops me in my tracks. “Nooooo-ooooo-o.”
I run back into the bedroom and am shocked to find Nora’s face red, blotchy, and streaked with mascara. Meg stares at her, open-mouthed.
Nora takes the picture frame from my hands. “We need bubble wrap,” she cries, hugging the picture close to her chest.
“Okay!” I rub her back, trying to console her, but she continues to sob. Meg frantically fans her face. “It’s okay! I’m going to go to the store and get us bubble wrap.”
“Noooo!” Nora throws her arms around me, wailing. “Don’t leave.”
“I’ll go!” Meg offers. Nora throws her head into her hands and moans, her chest heaving with stunted breaths.
“Don’t leave,” she repeats.
“Let’s all go,” I suggest.
Nora begins taking deep breaths.
“Here.” I grab my water bottle from its spot on the floor. “Drink.”
She takes a few sips, wiping the mascara off her cheeks and taking one final big breath.
“Okay,” she exhales. “We’ll all go.”
“We’ll all go,” I agree.
“We’ll all go,” Meg repeats.
Nora throws her arms around both of us, and we walk out to my car with Meg and me holding her tightly from either side.
It’s like Big Thunder Mountain all over again.