Page 11 of Remnants
“Nora, sweetie, what do you see?”
She blinks and furrows her brows. “What? What are you trying to do? Confuse me?”
“Nora,” I repeat, a little firmer this time. “Take a deep breath and tell me what you see in front of you.” Satisfaction fills me when she listens and inhales deeply before exhaling and looking around.
“Coffee,” she states firmly.
I raise a brow and look around before I see that she is staring at my sweater. It’s a design of a hot coffee cup hugging an iced coffee and it says“I like you a latte”.
I chuckle softly. “Good. That’s right. Can you breathe again for me?” Nora closes her eyes and takes another breath, resting the back of her head on the wall.
“Can I sit by you?” I watch her visibly stiffen but she nods slowly.
I scoot over to her side of the hallway and cross my legs out in front of me. Looking at her from out of the corner of my eyes. I can see the small tremors, the sheen of sweat forming over her head and neck.
“You know…” I sigh, silently praying that Mac arrives soon. “A while ago, there was an accident—this guy I was with, he locked me in a closet and spent three days torturing me by hitting me, making loud noises, making me super hot or freezing me.” I shift slightly and take a steadying breath. “After that happened, I became terrified of the dark and small spaces. I can’t be around loud noises. Even smelling a particular laundry soap, it sends me back to being in that closet.” I smile softly as Nora’s head rests against my shoulder. Her trembling hand finds mine and our fingers intertwine.
“What’s his name?” Her voice barely comes out above a whisper. I freeze as I very nearly say James’ name.
“M-Mitch,” I lie, but she seems to accept it.
“I’ll kill him for you if you want.” I can’t help but laugh at her offer. We sit in silence for several more minutes before Nora speaks. “I’m scared I’ll never be normal again.” I hear the cracking in her voice and my heart aches. I squeeze her hand softly while I rest my cheek on top of her head.
“Normal is subjective, Nora. I mean, what is your definition of ‘normal’?” She snuggles closer to me and I hate how right this feels. Why? Why would God do this to me?
“Comfortable,” she murmurs against me. “Normal to me is being comfortable. Happy. Not alone.” I sit quietly, only partially aware of the sound of a car door shutting in the driveway.
“Your brother is here. He’s not going to be able to get through the front door, let me call him.” Though she doesn’t move, Nora allows me to grab my phone. I tap on the number that Jamie had texted me earlier. Mac picks up on the first ring.
“Katie, I ain’t fitting through this window.”
I look at the back door noticing it isn’t latched. “The back door is unlocked,” I say softly. “We are sitting in the hallway.” I hang up the phone before placing my hand over our intertwined ones, stroking her knuckles softly as I listen to her steady breathing and finally, Mac makes his way into the house.
I sit on Nora’s couch as I continue to stroke Sam’s sleepy head and ears. Mac came in and instantly knew what had happened. He said things likecombat PTSDandflashbacks, while rooting around in Nora’s cabinets, finding medication and carrying her into her room. I could go back home. I probably should, but I don’t want to leave without Nora knowing that I didn’t abandon her. Her words earlier broke my heart.
Comfortable. Happy. Not alone
I think part of the reason it hurts me is because I feel the same way. I watch my pointed, nude pink nails get lost in Sam’s short, black fur as I let out a sigh. When was the last time I was any of those things?
My thoughts drift to Becky and our little cupcake business. I wanted a little bakery coffee shop so badly back then. My dream was to have it somehow connected to a bookstore, preferably a little locally owned one. Becky was going to run the book side, and I was going to run the bakery. But first, James wanted me tosee if I would have any success, so we had to start at the farmer’s markets. It didn’t bother me back then; his lack of support or faith in me. But it does now. Back then I was fresh out of the hell that was the conversion camps and therapy, so I was eager to show everyone I was worth a damn.
I started making gourmet cupcakes. And they were successful. I would make them and send them to the police or fire departments. On national dog day I made ones that looked like dogs and even made puppy friendly ones. My social media presence became amazing and I would sell out within an hour of being at the markets.
But, you can’t be a plastic surgeon’s wife and sell cupcakes. Not only does it look weird—selling sugary treats when you are “above average” in weight and married to someone that performs tummy tucks for a living, but it requires nointellectual know-how.So, I was made fun of in James’ circle, horribly, and James made me stop. Becky and her husband ended up having their baby and now they live in Colorado with their little indie bookstore coffee shop:Beans & Books.
I don’t really remember feeling happy, not alone, or comfortable even back then. But I did feel hopeful, and that is something I don’t feel anymore.
“She’s asleep.” Mac’s voice tears me from my thoughts. I watch as he moves the dresser and chairs away from the front door. “She’s pretty medicated, you can go home. She’ll probably sleep the rest of the night. I have to go back to the shop and close up, then I will come back and check on her.”
I think for a moment. What do I have to do over there? Start my exhausting nighttime skincare routine, workout, and shower. None of those sound appealing. I don’t want to be in that big, cold home right now.
“I can stay,” I state. “I have nothing going on, and I would just sit over there worried anyway.” I give him a hesitant smile,nervous that I might be overstepping. But Mac just gives me a grateful smile and nods.
“Call me if there is a problem. Text me updates. I appreciate this, Katie.”
I watch him leave and lock the door before walking to his car. Standing up, I quietly walk to Nora’s room and peer inside, finding her sound asleep under her blankets. Not wanting to wake her, I decide to go watch some television, but Sam pushes past me and trots into Nora’s room—walking onto the bed with ease due to his near horse-like size.
“Sam!” I whisper-hiss. “Get back here!”
