Chapter 6
JUDE
Even though it’s only a twenty-minute walk back to her apartment from the library, between the rain now coming down in sheets, Cap’s constant yawning, and her inability to see, Nora agrees to let me call a cab instead of walking.
Nora says it’s only a seven-minute drive, and luckily, Cap launches into an immediate discussion about the Marvel universe with the cabbie.
He’s sitting between me and Nora, and keeps leaning forward, gesticulating wildly.
I steal glances at Nora whenever he does, but she doesn’t look my way at all.
Just sits there with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, as if she’d rather be anywhere else in the world.
My stomach knots.
She’s wearing dark green nail polish, I notice. Since when does Nora wear nail polish?
Cap’s still talking, but I notice he’s leaning back in his seat now. He’s got shadows under his eyes.
We only got in late last night and I made him wake up at nine this morning so we could beat the jet lag. But the kid’s exhausted. He doesn’t even lift his hands to describe the fight scene he’s talking about.
My anger from back in the library deflates like a sad balloon.
This angry version of myself is not one I like, and now I feel like a shit dad on top of everything else. I should have insisted we stop looking for Nora hours ago. But we’d both been desperate to see her.
It hadn’t gone anywhere near to plan.
I lean my head back against the seat.
“You can just drop me off at the door,” Nora says to the driver as the car pulls up to the building a few minutes later.
“No.” I sit up fast. The word comes out hard enough that Cap looks confused.
“You need to get to your hotel,” Nora says. “Cap’s exhausted.”
“I’m not tired!” Cap says, lifting his head from the seat like it weighs a thousand pounds.
“I know he is,” I say. “But we’re walking you to your door, okay? You can’t see shit. Don’t argue with me.”
“Dad!” Cap hisses, glancing at our driver, then Nora.
“It’s all right, mate,” the driver says. “Heard a lot worse in here!” He guffaws loudly.
Normally, all of us would have laughed alongside him, but none of us are laughing now. The tension between me and Nora is palpable, and Cap’s not just exhausted now, but worried.
I put on a smile for the driver, but mostly for Cap. “Thanks,” I say as I hand him cash before Nora can even think about trying to.
Maybe buoyed by my softening, Cap waves amiably at the driver as he stumbles out of the car. “Yeah, thanks for the ride, Tim!”
The driver smiles happily, obviously surprised to have received a personalized thanks from a seven-year-old.
“Here,” I say as Nora reaches the door. She’s holding her keys inches from her face, clearly struggling to see which is which. And her hands are shaking.
I’m such a fucking asshole.
Reluctantly, she lets me take them, though she sticks her hand out to get them back the moment I’ve unlocked the door.
Nora’s building is an old brick walk-up with a large parquet lobby and a wide set of wooden stairs leading up across from the door. “I’m on the fifth floor,” she says. “Or do you already know that?”
I grimace. “Murray might have let it slip out.”
Cap peers at the stairs with confusion. “Where’s the elevator?”
“No elevators when these buildings were made, buddy,” I mumble, eyes still on Nora.
She’s headed straight for the stairs, saying, “I’m fine, thanks,” to my outstretched arm.
My stomach drops. This is all my fault. Nora left, sure. But the reason was me. And by coming here, what, did I figure we could just gloss over everything? Why do I just assume everyone will think my ideas are as great as I did?
Out of nowhere, I think of this time Dad had asked all five of us kids to put ideas for what we should do with Mom on the weekend when she wasn’t at work managing the hotel on a little scrap of paper.
Then we were to fold them all up and stick them in the SUPER FUN ACTIVITY jar he kept on the kitchen counter.
“They have to be super special,” he said.
I think I was the only one who took the job seriously.
Where my siblings said stuff like hikes, picnics, and various local attractions, I wrote down things like “spelling our names in river rocks on the sidewalk that we spray different colors” and “sushi-making with fresh trout we catch ourselves.”
Whenever one of my ideas was pulled—which was frequently, given I’d often sneak extra ideas in the jar at night when no one was looking—my siblings would groan; or worse, outright object. My oldest siblings, Cass and Eli, would even straight-up say they were a waste of time.
But not Dad. He was as enthusiastic about each of the ideas as I was, even though sometimes he’d let the other kids veto them.
“Dad?” Cap asks now. He’s looking at the stairs like they’re Everest.
Nora’s already halfway up the first flight, gripping the banister to guide her.
I crouch down. “Come on.”
“I’m too big for piggybacks, Dad.”
“Listen, even Captain America had to be carried sometimes.”
“When?”
“In one of the comic books.”
Cap frowns. “Which one?”
“One you don’t have.” I lean in close. “Nora can’t see you, remember? I’ll put you down before we get up there.”
That’s good enough for Cap.
He hops on, looping his arms around my neck, and immediately sags against my back.
He’s light enough that I could still jog up the steps, but I keep it slow to give Nora space.
I wonder if she’s hoping I’ll give up and let her go the rest of the way on her own?
Or if she knows there was no way I’ll leave without knowing she’s safely in her apartment.
“Dad?” Cap asks.
I thought he’d nodded off. Cap could fall asleep at the drop of a hat, just like me. “Yeah?”
“What’s going on with you and Nora?”
My stomach tenses. I’d wanted to shield him from what was going on between us, but he’d seen right through me.
“I’m not actually sure,” I confess.
“Is she mad we’re here?”
“No,” I say quickly. “She loves you, Cap.” My throat goes tight at that truth. “She was so happy to see you, remember?”
“Yeah. But she doesn’t seem happy to see you.”
I glance up at Nora, but she’s rounded the corner, her footfalls sounding from up the next flight. “I didn’t tell her anything about us coming.” That was the part I could share with Cap.
He rests his cheek on my shoulder. “Why not?”
“I didn’t want her saying no.”
“But you always tell me not to do that!” Cap admonishes, lifting his head up for a moment before dropping it again.
“I know. I should listen to myself more, huh?”
“Grandpa said you always used to do that when you were a kid.”
“Oh yeah? What else did he say?”
“He said you were the troublemaker in the family.”
“Oh really?”
“You weren’t?”
I turn my face to the side so he can see me wink. “I never said that.” I jostle him so he giggles. It’s good to be distracted from Nora for a moment.
“Let’s see…back then Aunty Cass and Uncle Eli were the boring know-it-alls; Uncle Griffin was like, a mysterious genius who would take stuff apart in his room and disappear for long stretches.
And Aunty Chelsea, the only one younger than me, was quiet and liked to draw.
They were all smart and good in school where I couldn’t focus to save my as—butt.
So someone needed to make things fun, right? ”
“Yeah,” Cap sighs against my back. He’s quiet a moment as I continue up the stairs after Nora. Once more I think he might be falling asleep, until he says, “But Dad, you’re smart, too.”
My heart squeezes. Still, I almost laugh, given what a stupid idea this trip has been.
Cap’s being kind. Kinder than I deserve.
Luckily, whatever brilliance gene my siblings got, I’d manage to pass on to Cap.
Even though getting a young girl pregnant was the stupidest thing I’d ever done, it had given me Cap.
And being Cap’s dad was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
“Thanks, buddy,” I say softly.
A beat passes before Cap says, “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Is that why you don’t have a girlfriend? Because you have to be smart to have one, right?”
My stomach twists hard. This little psychoanalyst has me nailed.
Sort of. I don’t have a girlfriend because I want to be the best at being Cap’s dad.
Just like I wanted to be the best at tennis.
It was the only way to keep my eye on the prize.
I’m not the kind of guy who can do both and not fuck everything up.
“Yeah, Cap,” I say, because it’s easier that way, and because he’s kind of right. “I guess that’s why.”
Nora pauses halfway up the next flight of stairs as I round the corner onto the landing.
Our eyes meet, and a spark goes through me. Until I remember she can’t see me.
Has she heard? She’s the only other one who knows Jude Kelly has insecurities.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods, then turns around again. “Just making sure you’re still there,” she says softly.
Her words are the first bit of olive branch she’s handed me since the library. But I can’t tell with her back to me whether she’s still mostly upset.
What I can tell is that this aspect gives me a bit of a too-good view of her backside.
I shouldn’t be looking at her backside, but everything else has gone to shit so might as well enjoy the view. I’d forgotten about how attractive it was. Heart-shaped and round, the perfect size for wrapping hands around…
That’s been a weird side effect of Nora being gone. I’ve started feeling inappropriate things when I think of her. Things I could easily brush aside back when she was around or write off as hormones.
Now, when our emotions are so high…it’s weird, but it’s like those wrong feelings have been amplified too.
God, do I want to fuck her?
I curse myself for even having that thought, especially with my son literally in my arms.
Luckily, my inappropriate thoughts about my best friend—maybe ex-best friend, I think, slightly panicky—are interrupted by a door bursting open on a floor above, followed by a clattering of heels.