Page 57 of Make You Love Me
Nora:Home?
Calling the apartmenthome, like we made one there together, stings now that I know everything that happened inside those walls had been fake.
Nora:I’ll go get my car and come pick you up.
Me:No need. I’ll meet you there.
Nora:OK.
“Still willing to give me that ride?” I ask Avery. “I need a little more time to think.”
“Sure.” She motions for the waiter to bring the check and a box. “I’m proud of you.”
Oddly, the sentiment soothes the smoldering edges of my nerves. “Thanks.”
“Get out your wallet. You owe me.”
???
Avery continues to provide unsolicited advice on the short drive. I appreciate the attempt to walk me through the upcominguncharted territory, but I still feel lost without a map or a flashlight or a damn clue where to begin.
I’m unprepared. Frankly, I rather pretend nothing happened to warrant the advice—as if Nora never came back to me. Never kissed me. Never made me believe I could have all of her.
If I had anyone else to call, I would release Nora from her obligation and somehow summon myself to move on. But how does one move past a betrayal so deep and so goddamn delusional and somehow retain a belief that true love exists? She isn’t stupid enough to think this arrangement would have had a happy ending. So why attempt it? What good could come of it?
I’m drowning in a what-the-fuck conversation with myself when Avery pulls up to the apartment building. Nora is sitting on the small stoop, her arms circling her knees, shielding herself against the chilly fall afternoon. Storm clouds gather in the distance, a symbol of what’s to come.
“You can do this,” Avery says before popping the trunk and exiting.
She greets Nora at the back of the car, and together, they unload the wheelchair, whispering to each other as they work. I don’t care to hear what they’re saying. It’s easy enough to figure out without the embarrassment of hearing it spoken aloud. Like a shift change at the command post, Avery’s giving Nora a rundown of our lunch and what to look out for. A status update in the pathetic and unfortunate life of Jordan Jones.
Avery soon appears at the door and opens it, while Nora holds the wheelchair steady. It takes every ounce of strength and energy I have left to rise from the car on my own and plop down into the chair. My body screams in protest not only from the movement, but at the first scent of Nora behind me. I close my eyes against the pang in my chest sent there by the memorable combination of vanilla and lavender.
I don’t hear if Avery says goodbye or if Nora provides instructions before pushing me to the courtyard and through the sliding glass doors of the apartment. Despite what I promised to both of them, I can’t do this. I can’t look at her, much less talk about how she’s destroyed my trust. I don’t want to hear her excuses or if she wants to jump ship—her typical response. I need to sleep and forget this day ever happened.
She parks me beside the couch, expecting to start the conversation I agreed to. It’s not happening.
With my head down, I’m the first to break the silence. “I can’t do this right now,” I croak, too weak to put anything other than frankness behind the words and shake my head. “I need…”
“What do you need, Jordan? Just tell me and you’ll have it.”
“I need to be alone.”
“That’s not a good—”
“Please,” I bark, interrupting her protest about my condition. I don’t care. I’m suffocating in her proximity and need space.
“Okay.” Her hands fly up in surrender before running down the tight jeans covering her thighs. “I’ll get the other bed made.”
She hurries to the bedroom, giving me a chance to breathe. In the quiet, my thoughts reel. How am I going to survive until Josie returns? Not sure being around my sister will be any easier. But being angry with your sister is different. A different pain.
“I understand you don’t want to talk right now,” Nora says, walking back into the living room. “But I’m leaving the door open so I can—”
“Why did you do it?” I blurt out. She’s right. I don’t want to talk about it, but that one question keeps gnawing at me. And if I’m going to get any rest, I need an explanation whether I’ll believe it or not. “And I want the truth.”
“No more lies, Jordan. I promise.”
“Not sure if I can trust your promises but go on.”
