Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Who cares about the neighbors? Not Mom.
I make a smashing Columbia.
Happiness is more than great O.
“You sure you want to leave the house like this? It’s freezing out,” Mom asked.
She still had pink paint splattered in her usually immaculate hair. She wore overalls. OVERALLS. We’d found them while bagging Dad’s old things. She last wore them when she was pregnant with me.
I stared at myself in the mirror-door of my old wardrobe, the one covered in peeling punk band stickers.
For the first time, I was glad Mom hadn’t thrown away everything.
When we emptied a box of her clothes from the '80s and a heap of glitter assaulted my eyes, an idea sprang to life.
I might regret this later, but how much lower can a person sink?
My parents used to love participating in Fasching, the German carnival held every February when the streets were still frozen. They’d wear half-skimpy outfits and start drinking at 8 a.m.
The black top hat I wore now had once belonged to Dad, and the glitter corset was Mom’s. I slipped sparkly shorts over my fishnet tights. My mirror image was a poor imitation of the Rocky Horror character Columbia, but it would have to do.
Everything seemed a little lighter today. Mom’s face was like a sunbeam that had broken through a roof of dark clouds.
“I really gotta sell this. The more ridiculous I look, the better.” After I covered my eyelids with a thick layer of glitter, Mom handed me my spelling bee statue from 5th grade.
“You got this.”
“Thanks. And if not, at least the entire neighborhood will have something to talk about.”
She shrugged, blowing a loose curl out of her face. “Who cares about the neighbors?”
I stared at her in mock shock. “Who are you?”
She nudged my chin. “Auf gehts. Go on then.”
My hands only shook a little when I placed them on the steering wheel. Mom hadn’t been happy when I asked the neighbors to borrow their car. It had been five years since I last sat in the driver’s seat.
I straightened the mirror, for Otis. I turned on the ignition, let out a shaky breath, and rehearsed my speech.
Twenty minutes later, I sat in Otis’s driveway, wondering if I’d truly lost my mind.
Otis’s family home was in the fancy part of town, and I half-expected someone to call the cops for trespassing in ridiculous clothing.
The shaking in my fingers had eased; now they just drummed nervously on the steering wheel. Stop running away, low-budget Columbia seemed to say, staring back at me from my reflection.
So I put the car in park, stepped out, and hissed as the wind bit my hardly-covered buttocks. I cranked the radio as loud as possible.
It took only ten seconds of the intermission for a window to open on the first floor.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” came a voice attached to perfectly coiffed blonde hair.
So I did what any normal person would do in a situation like this. I started singing.
“Michael Rennie was ill, the day the Earth stood still. But he told us where we stand. And Flash Gordon was there in silver underwear. Claude Rains was the Invisible Man…”
The most dramatic eye roll crossed my best friend's face before he closed the window.
Instead of giving up, I sang louder. My teeth chattered from the cold.
Then the front door opened. I threw a handful of rice in Otis’s face. He flinched and picked a piece from his hair.
“Okay, you truly lost your mind,” he said.
“Science fiction…whooooo hooooo…double-feature. Dr. X will build a creature. See androids fighting, Brad and Janet. Anne Francis stars in Forbidden Planet, Ahhahooo—at the late night…”
“Okay, stop,” Otis waved his hands. “Are you planning to perform the entire show in front of my door?” He had to shout over the blasting music.
“To be fair, I’d hoped you’d interrupt me earlier,” I said, crossing my arms in front of me. He did the same but leaned his weight against the doorframe, raising a brow.
I huffed. “Fine.” I turned down the volume but then pulled the top hat from my head and started a poor imitation of a tap dance.
“Okay, Nora, stop. I get what you’re doing, but this…” He circled his finger over my outfit. “Is not enough to win me back.”
I held out a hand. “Give me a second.” I crouched down to my backpack and retrieved my spelling bee statue. I held it out to him, but didn’t step any closer. I wanted him to close the distance.
He took a theatrical breath like I’d asked him to move a mountain, but I saw curiosity win.
He flinched at the ice-cold wind, but as he took in the statue, his expression softened. I’d rubbed off my spelling bee credentials with rubbing alcohol and replaced it with a dedication in Sharpie.
“It’s an Oscar. For what, I’m sure, was the performance of the century.”
“For my best friend and fiercest bitch,” he read.
I nodded. “Two truths and a lie. I would trade all my signed first editions just so you give me another chance. I promise to never let you down again. I want to change my career to theater.”
He tilted his head, looking past me at the car. Then he frowned. “Did you…drive here? By yourself?”
I nodded.
That seemed to do it. His face softened. “I mean, I’d fully planned to let your naughty bits freeze out there. For fuck’s sake, Nora,” he wiped a tear away. “Get your ass in here.”
I didn’t step in. I threw myself into his arms.
“What now?” he asked after he’d handed me a ridiculous giant bunny onesie to wear and settled me down with a cup of Glühwein. Mom had pressed a bottle of the German spiced wine into my hand before I left—a sign she missed him, too.
I sipped the tangy, warm drink, memories of Christmas markets easing the tension. I sat on Otis’s kitchen island, decorated with bowls full of monochrome glass ornaments.
“You could move in here,” Otis suggested.
He still lived with his parents, in a house that had more rooms than sense.
Otis was waiting for his next birthday to tap into his trust fund, likely to buy a communal theater where he could play every major role and host weekend sex parties.
“My parents are gone over the holidays.”
As nice as the offer was, I shook my head. “I’m back at Mom’s. It’s fine for now. We redecorated.” I showed him a picture of the pink kitchen on my phone. He was both surprised and approving.
“How’s Jeremy?” I asked, forcing a tentative smile.
He folded his hands underneath his chin. “He’s been around. But we want to keep it slow.”
I raised a brow. “Slow? You?”
He interlaced his fingers. “I don’t want to mess this up. But he’ll be here for dinner. You’ll stay?”
“Of course.”
I played with the rim of my cup. “I have an idea. Several ideas, actually. On how to save the store. I think you were right.”
Otis’s brows rose to his hairline. “I’m all ears.”
Before I could let out a breath of relief, he added, “After we discuss what we’ll do about John.”
My smile fell. “There’s nothing to discuss. He played me, and now it’s done.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Nora, snap out of it.”
“What?”
“When was the last time you’ve been truly happy?”
“Really? We’re doing this?” I huffed.
Otis pointed his finger at me. “If you want my help with Skye’s, we have to have this conversation.”
I threw my hands up. “I don’t know. Maybe when I got into the competition?”
“You mean when you were in your obsessive-Nora era? No. I’ll tell you.”
I bit my lip and watched his expression warily.
“The morning I found you naked in the store.”
I grimaced. “That was all the sex.”
“Maybe. But maybe not. You’ve gotta stop running away from your own happiness. Let yourself live a little. When I saw you that morning, I saw the Nora I knew before your dad passed. You were happy, girl. You, like, literally glowed.”
“Again. Orgasms will do that to you.”
He sipped pointedly on his cup.
“Besides, you told me not to get my heart involved.”
“Well, sometimes even my brilliant advice may be wrong.”
“But you know what he did, don’t you?”
He grimaced. “Jeremy and I have puzzled things together.”
“He lied to me, Otis. The whole time.”
He set down the cup, his face serious. “Are you sure you entered this competition for yourself, or did you do it for your dad? Is it really what you want? A book deal? Writing? Don’t get me wrong, you’re excellent and all, but interviews? Panels? Teamwork?”
Of course, I’d thought about this. The moments when I felt suffocated by the pressure. But the prize money had waved at me, telling me it would blow all my worries away.
“Even so, what he did—”
Otis nodded. “It was shitty. But, love, if he could’ve turned his back on you, he would’ve.
There was no reason for him to risk it if he wasn’t entirely smitten with you too.
Maybe it’s wise to see his side.” He held up both hands in a calming gesture.
“Not saying it has to be right now, but just don’t write him off right away. ”
“I love you,” I said. “For now, that’s enough.”
He patted my hand. “You aren’t your mom, Nora. You’re a strong-ass bitch, and no man will ever break you. I’ll make sure of that.”