Chapter 8 #2
Charlene launched into a monologue about the importance of modernizing Elliot’s work.
Most of the series had been written in the 70s and showed its age—casual sexism, underrepresentation and all that.
“We want to preserve the integrity of this epic journey,” she said, “but the publisher’s also looking for—”
John shifted beside her, crossing his legs and leaning back.
His black trousers pulled tight over his knee, a fine-knit sweater clung to his shoulders before falling loosely toward a silver-buckled belt.
He didn’t hold a pen—just ran his thumb slowly along his bottom lip.
A touch more stubble had sprouted, and flecks of silver glinted along his jawline. His eyes flicked to me.
I was just about to look away when one brow arched—as if asking a question—before his gaze dipped down. Down to... my boobs? My legs?
The brow rose higher.
A strange buzz spread through my gut, like my whole body had been put on vibrate.
I mouthed, “What?” My pulse jumped. Was I allergic to eggs now?
Suddenly, the background noise dimmed.
“Nora? Nora?”
I gasped and snapped my gaze back to Charlene, my head whirling like I’d just been yanked from underwater. “Yes?”
“Your phone.”
It took entirely too long for her words to make sense.
My phone was ringing in my pocket. That’s where the vibrations had come from.
Oh, thank God.
“Sorry,” I muttered, turning it off without glancing at the screen. Whoever it was, they weren’t worth adding another mark to my screw-up list.
Charlene opened a folder, a small frown forming on her forehead. “Where were we...?”
The buzzing picked up again.
I swore. “Let me just...” Then I noticed the caller ID.
Mom.
My stomach dropped.
Anyone could wait. Anyone but Mom.
“I’m sorry,” I said, already standing. “I really gotta take this.”
Elaine let out a sharp tsk while Charlene rubbed her temples. May gave me one of those I feel sorry for you smiles.
Slipping into the hallway, I answered. “Hey, Mom.” Behind me, the voices started up again. “Everything okay?”
“Of course, Liebling,” she said. “I just wanted to check in and see how your trip is going.”
My thoughts crashed headfirst into a wall.
“My trip...?” I tried to remember our last conversation. Slowly, something cold and clawing built behind my ribcage. It felt like the early stages of food poisoning.
“Yes, your trip. With John.”
My stomach bottomed out completely.
Crap.
I had successfully erased from memory the part where I told Mom I had a boyfriend. And that we went on a trip. And that his name—his actual name—was John Kater.
“Mom, this isn’t a great time. Can I call you back?”
“Why?”
“I’m just busy at the moment, don’t—”
“What are you doing?” she interrupted. “Should I be worried?”
“No, it’s—don’t be worried, please,” I said, leaning my head against the wall and cursing myself. She’d heard the urgency in my voice. There was no way this call would end quickly now.
“Are you having a fight?”
There it was—the tone that always led straight to a lecture about Tobias and his oh-so-stable, oh-so-successful life. Why did you have to screw it up? Look at him now.
“Everything is fine. It’s going well.”
“Is it, though?”
I flinched. John had appeared beside me.
“Is that him?” Mom’s voice crackled through the speaker.
Double crap.
I covered the mic with my hand. “Can I help you?” I snapped.
“Just checking if you’re okay,” he said, leaning a shoulder against the wall. The same way he’d leaned last night in the hall—an image I didn’t need right now. “You know, being so awfully ill and all.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re trying to get out of the group thing, aren’t you?”
He slid his hands into his pockets. “I’d rather be writing. But we’re all in this together.”
“So you stalk me in the hallway?”
“I was seeing if you were having a family emergency. Maybe needed a lift home.” He smiled—but it wasn’t a nice smile.
“Dream on. I’m not dropping out. I earned my place.”
His brows knit together. “I know you did.”
Mom’s voice cut through the static again. “Nora Rose, is that your boyfriend?”
John’s eyes narrowed. So, he heard that too.
Mom’s voice kept rising in pitch, repeating my name. I ignored her for one more second.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to John, “because I, for one, care about this.”
He sighed and straightened. “Don’t let Charlene wait too long.”
I exhaled as he walked away and finally brought the phone back to my ear.
“Hey, Mom, sorry, I was—”
“Nora Rose, what is going on? Who was that?” Her voice teetered on the edge of hysteria. I could practically see her pacing the kitchen, pulling out baking supplies.
I suddenly felt awful. I shouldn’t have lied. I shouldn’t let her get her hopes up—about me, about grandkids. Maybe it was better to just tell her the truth. Over the phone, at least I wouldn’t have to see her face when it shattered.
“Where are you?”
“Mom—” I began.
“I googled him.”
“You googled whom?”
“John Kater. The man you said you’re dating.”
A pang of sheer panic shot through me. “You did what? How do you even know what Google is?”
There was a pause.
Not good.
“Nora Rose, just because I’m beyond fifty doesn’t mean I can’t find my way around the internet. Also, Carol’s daughter was kind enough to assist.”
I groaned internally. This was worse than I’d imagined. Had she gone around the neighborhood telling people I was dating a celebrity? Somehow, I hadn’t considered that possibility. She barely left the house anymore.
“It can’t be him, right? The author? Did you meet at the shop?”
“Mom...” I started, but nothing else came. Silence settled between us—loaded with shame, regret, and quiet accusation.
“Did you make up a story, Nora?” she finally asked. “Where are you really?”
The opening was right there. I could tell her. But how could I bring up anything related to Dad, when just moving one of his things made her fall apart?
“Mom, it’s not like that.”
“You do know what day it is, don’t you?”
Her voice had thickened.
I blinked, confused for a second. Then I saw the chalkboard agenda. The date scrawled at the top.
My whole body seized.
Crap. Double crap.
Not only was I lying to my grieving mother—whose single wish in life was to see her daughter married—I’d also forgotten Dad’s birthday.
And the award for Worst Daughter in the Universe goes to: me.
I let out a breath. Defeated.
“Of course I remembered. I didn’t lie, Mom. John is here. He just went to get some fresh air.” I closed my eyes and slid down the wall. “I just didn’t want to sound happy because, you know... today.”
Mom’s voice lifted, an octave too high. “So you’re with your boyfriend, Nora?”
“Yes. Everything is fine. I’m sorry I didn’t call.” The words tasted wrong.
“Oh, papperlapapp. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”
I felt it coming. The silence. That pause before something shifted.
“It’s been a little lonely today.”
Of course it had. We usually spent the day together, like we had for the past six years. She’d make Dad’s favorite dinner, and we’d watch Star Wars. Not because she particularly liked the movies, but because it made her feel like he was still there, sitting beside her.
“I’d so love to see a picture of the two of you. My daughter and a famous author. Who would’ve thought? With all those tattoos, you know.”
My head fell into my hands.
How could this possibly get any worse?
“Then I can rub it in Carol’s face,” she added smugly. “She didn’t believe me.”
There it was. That’s how.
“Okay, Mom, I gotta go... we, uh...” My eyes landed on a pair of rubber boots by the door. They looked about John’s size. “We’re going on a hike now.”
Mom shrieked. “A hike? It’s like I’m talking to a new woman! I always said the right man could get you out of the house more. I’m so glad—and I can’t wait to see you both when you’re back.”
“Bye, Mom,” I said quickly, holding the phone away from my ear, making it clear I had to go hike with my gorgeous boyfriend.
I placed the phone on the hallway dresser.
No more interruptions. I was ready to become the poster child for perfect writing students when—
The group stood up as one.
The question round was over.
I’d missed another vital part of the retreat.
Well, fuck me sideways.