Finding Nora

by Ripley Proserpina

  “It’s not you,” Matisse told her one morning, watching her crack her knuckles after Ryan and Apollo kissed her goodbye. “It’s midterms.”

  A weight lifted off her shoulders. Her head dropped to the card table with a dull thud. “Midterms. Duh.”

  He yawned, pouring the boiling water from the tea kettle into his french press. “Not you at all, chère. Apollo and Ryan are more organized than anyone you’ll meet. But this is their senior year, and Ryan’s trying to work his way off the waitlist.”

  His long form lounged back in the chair, arms folded behind his head. When he closed his eyes, his dark eyelashes rested against his pale skin. Purple shaded circles rimmed his eyes.

  Each successive night since the parish hall incident, he’d gone out. When he came in, right after dawn, he was exhausted but strangely pumped.

  His eyes opened, catching her stare and he leaned forward, kissing her gently on the mouth. “Nothing for you to worry about, just meeting some old friends who are in town for a short time.”

  “When do they leave?” Subtle. Luckily, Matisse laughed. “Sorry.”

  Shrugging, he returned to the coffee, pressing the plunger down. He poured himself a cup and sipped it while leaning against the counter. “It’s fine.I should have explained. The guys just know. We’ve been together so long.”

  Jealousy pinged a little. She wanted that kind of understanding. To share things. She might as well be the person who started. “A woman threatened me with a knife at the parish hall the other night.” The words tumbled over each other.

  He swallowed his coffee and put down the mug. “Cai didn’t say.”

  “I didn’t know how to tell you. But… her husband was the teacher who died at the school. I don’t think she even realized she was holding it.”

  His long form loped toward her. “What happened?”

  “She dropped it. Left. Her son was there. A kid. I didn’t recognize him.”

  His dark eyes blazed, making his pale skin look even paler. She saw him take a deep breath and then another before speaking. “Are you okay?”

  Yes. She nodded.

  “You’ve got to tell the others.”

  “I know, but I hate to worry them. I don’t want any of you worrying. Can I tell them later? When are midterms are done?”

  He gave her a look. Damn. She was avoiding. Unintentionally, but still…

  “Last day is Friday the 30th.” He checked his phone. “Tomorrow. You tell them tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow’s my birthday.”

  “What? It is?” He snagged her, pulling her in close. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  “Twenty-one. You’re so young.”

  Pete, a boy she’d interacted with moments before the shooting began, would never see his twenty-first birthday. And Mr. Hanscomb, the teacher who died, would never see his son’s twenty-first.

  “I see where your mind has gone.” He pulled her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t go there. Be grateful you’re alive.” Gently, he kissed her, tongue touching her lips lightly before withdrawing.

  “I am.” Sighing, she opened her eyes. “I am. It just makes me all the more aware of how lucky I am. And I’d honestly forgotten about my birthday. I never celebrate it.”

  “Never?”

  “Okay.” She thought back. “That’s not entirely true. Usually I spoil myself on my birthday and buy something I don’t absolutely need.”

  He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to answer, but when she didn’t he prodded. “Such as?”

  “A book. Nutella. Fizzy lemonade.”

  “Fizzy lemonade?”

  Yum. She nodded.

  Holding his coffee, he walked to the counter, taking a sip before typing on his phone. “I’m letting everyone know you have something you need to tell us, that tomorrow is your birthday, and we are taking you out for dinner.”

  “Oh no. Matisse, don’t. I don’t want people to go to any trouble.”

  “What was it you told me once? Fermez la bouche? Do it.” His phone immediately began to chime back at him. “See?” He turned it to face Nora, though she couldn’t make out their replies. “They’re all excited. Apollo even emoji’d.”

  She giggled, surprised when she heard footsteps thunder up the stairs from the basement.

  “It’s your birthday?” Seok asked almost before the door shut behind him. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He scooped her up, hugging her tight and kissing her anywhere he could reach.“Happy Birthday.”

  “I forgot, Seok,” she laughed, turning her face away from his crazy kisses. He responded by kissing whatever side of her face was closest to him, while she pushed him away with both hands against his chest. “I’m sorry. Seok!” she screeched as he gave her a wet, sucking kiss on her neck. “I’m sorry!”

  “Have you learned your lesson?”

  She pulled her head back, pretending to think about it. “I don’t know…”

  Immediately, his lips returned to her neck. This time nibbling and she squealed, “I learned! I learned!”

  He gave her one more nibble/kiss before pulling away, relaxed and smiling. “So where are we going?”

  “I know where,” Matisse supplied. "It even has a table to fit all of us."

  "Low, man. That's just low."

  Seok had made a beautiful kitchen table for his house, which was ruined when the boys got into a fight after realizing they all had feelings for Nora.

  "I know whatever you make will be beautiful. Do you want some help?"

  "You want to help?" He studied her face, but she meant it.

  "Sure." She nodded. "I can sand, or paint, or nail things." She demonstrated her skill with a hammer.

  Chuckling, he hugged her tighter, rubbing his chin back and forth against her hair. "Okay, nae sereang. Come into my lair."

  Matisse crossed his arms, watching them. "I think I've seen horror movies begin this way."

  She grabbed the door frame, pretending along with Seok. "Matisse!" she fake-cried. "Help! Aidez-moi!"

  He gave her a small wave and she stuck out her tongue, clomping down the steps. She breathed in deeply as they walked down. She couldn't identify what it was that smelled good, but she wanted to bottle it and label it, "safety."

  Seok chuckled when she didn’t stop. "It's paint, and pine, dust, and glue."

  "I like it."

  Pausing, he glanced back at her. She wasn't joking.

  "I like it, too."

  She buried her face in his shirt and breathed in. "I don't smell it on you though."

  "Ah," he said awkwardly. "No. I guess you don't."

  Whoops. Sniffing was perhaps bad form, and she stepped back, a little awkward. "Sorry."

  "It's fine." He kissed her cheek. “Surprised me."

  Stepping away, she studied the room. He was organized, like she expected. A tall, red metal toolbox stood next to a waist level worktable that ran the length of one of the basement walls. Spaced along the room were tools she couldn't identify. She peered closer. Except for circular saw. And a jigsaw, that's a thing too, right?

  Houses as old as this one usually had stone foundations, and a dirt floor. But this basement had drywall, and new windows. The floor was grey concrete.

  “This basement is in good shape.”

  It was warm, and the air was dry. The furnace clicked on, and she jumped.

  "Scared of basements?"

  "No." She shook her head. “It just surprised me."

  The essence of Seok was here, it was a glimpse into his mind. On a peg board he’d posted pictures of different styles of chairs and tables. "Are one of these going to be ours?"

  “No.” Crossing his arms, he watched her investigate. “Those are ones I would like to make at some point, but ours is over here."

  He gestured with his chin toward a board held in place by clamps. The last kitchen table had been heavy and huge. This one would be as
heavy, but instead of being long and rectangular, it circular.

  "It must weigh a ton.” She ran her hand over the top. “Is this the wood from the last table?"

  "Some of it," he replied. "I used what could be salvaged, but it wasn't all worth saving. I found a few old boards and planed them down, and glued those together to make it bigger. I want it to fit all of us."

  She liked it, especially the shape. "This way I'll be able to see all your faces while we eat."

  "That's what I thought, as well."

  His quiet approval left her flustered, and she struggled to get herself together. Examining the table, she saw a few kerchiefs and grabbed one. She attempted to tie it around her head, but her hair was too thick, so she made due wrapping it like a headband around her head. "I'm ready."

  He watched her, smiling the entire time. It made such a switch from when she first met him and he seemed so distant. He was silent for a moment, before he seemed to shake himself aware. "Um." Spying what he needed, he picked up a tool. "This is a sander."

  She took it from him, turning it upside down and running her hand over the bottom where a rough piece of sandpaper was attached.

  "I want you to sand the top of the table, in the direction of the grain."

  Confused, she studied the table. Huh?

  "See the lines on the boards?" He ran his fingertips down the center, pointing out the texture. "When you sand, sand along those lines." He demonstrated with his hand. "Like this." Starting at one end of the board, his long-fingers smoothed across the wood. "Got it?"

  Nodding, she searched for the on switch.

  "Wait." He slid a pair of glasses over her face and placed giant earmuffs carefully over her ears before speaking again.

  "What?"

  He laughed, and took off the muffs. "Hearing and eye protection. Safety first.”

  After waiting for him to fit them on, she turned on the sander, moving to one end of the table. The machine sprung to life in her hands, vibrating so hard it seemed like it would travel by itself. She struggled to hold onto it, finally gripping it in a way that made her feel more in control. A nudge could guide it, she didn’t need to force it. Sweeping her hand across the place she sanded, she tested the board next to it, comparing the texture.

  A tap on her shoulder distracted her. "Okay?"

  Maybe? "You tell me."

  He ran his palm along the newly sanded board. “Perfect." One long-finger pointed to a drip of glue. "Make sure you sand those spots, we want it to be smooth when we paint and wax."

  When she nodded, he put the protectors back on her and she got back to work.

  She lost track of time. The table was giant, more than six boards glued together, each of those boards about six or seven inches in width. When she got to the center of the table she had to lean forward, reaching as far to the center as she could before going to the other side of the board, and starting from the outside to work back to the center again. She spent more time getting into position than she did actually sanding.

  Everything Seok made was beautiful. Each task got his full attention, and she wanted to do the same. Halfway through, she switched off the sander, carefully placing it on the table before stretching from side to side.

  A hand traveled the length of her back before Seok pressed his chest against her. "Sore?"

  "All the reaching." Her head fell back.

  He ran his hands under her arms as she stretched, pressing into her muscles. Groaning, she leaned toward him. He dropped his hands to her sides, gently trailing his fingers along her. "How are the grazes... and the bruises?"

  Covering his hand with hers, she pressed it into her skin. "Doesn't hurt anymore. I have a little twinge sometimes when I breathe, but miraculously, that's it. This soreness? This is because I've never worked these muscles before, and your sander vibrated all the way to my bones."

  He laughed, reaching for her hands. His thumbs massaged into the palm of her hand, pressing deeply into the meaty part near her thumb.

  "What was it you need to tell us? Or are you going to make me wait?”

  Crap. She formulated the words in her head, running them once or twice through her brain before she let herself speak. "There was someone who recognized me at the parish hall." She didn't know why she was being so careful with Seok when she'd been so blunt with Matisse.

  He gripped her a little more tightly, kissing her head and waiting. Still, there was a tension in him that hadn’t been there before.

  “A reporter?” he asked, remembering how she and Matisse needed to hide from one when she’d first come to stay.

  “Her husband died at the school. He was the one adult.”

  “What’d she do?”

  “Cornered me. She had a knife, but like I told Matisse, I don’t think she even realized she held it. She was overwhelmed. I mean, the church was her safe spot, I’m sure she didn’t expect to run into me there. It was traumatic for her.”

  “What about you, Nora? Maybe we need to call the police and have them reiterate your innocence. I mean— Jesus. You can’t even get a job. And she’s the second person who attacked you. Third, if you count the reporter.”

  “I don’t count the reporter…” she mumbled.

  Lifting her chin with one finger, he glowered at her “I do. There’s got to be a way so you’re not blamed for this anymore.”

  “It has to die out on its own. Or maybe I’ll always be associated with it. The only way people will feel differently, will be if I show them I’m a good person. You know? Like, with good works or something.” As soon as she said it, she liked the sound of it. “I can’t change what happened. I’ll always have guilt, even if I know I shouldn’t. But maybe I can lessen it, and eventually people will realize I’m not all bad.”

  Sadness settled on his features “You’re not bad at all.”

  She smiled wickedly and waggled her eyebrows. “I’m a little bad.”

  Wrapping his arms around her back, he held her close. “A little bad is good. Keeps things interesting.”

  seventeen

  Birthday

  THE MORNING OF her twenty-first birthday, Nora awoke in a way she never had before, wrapped in love. With pancakes.

  “Happy Birthday…” Apollo whispered, kissing her ear.

  Humming happily, she opened her eyes. Cai held coffee, and Ryan pancakes, while Seok maple syrup. Apollo took his task of waking her up very seriously, because he kissed her again and again. She closed her eyes, letting him get his fill before she pushed herself back on the pillows.

  “I’m here!” The front door slammed and feet pounded up the stairs. Her door flung open and Matisse tumbled inside. “I’m here, don’t sing yet!”

  “You’re going to sing?” she asked, covering her mouth with her hand.

  Nodding, Apollo pulled her hand away and kissed her hard on the mouth. “Yup.” He looked back at the guys, who all began singing horribly, wonderfully out of tune.

  Her face ached, she smiled so hard. She tried not to laugh, because she didn’t want to drown out the sound of their voices. Matisse definitely wasn’t singing in English, and tilting her head to listen closer, neither was Seok. When they finished, all at different times, she clapped, letting loose the laughter she’d held back.

  “Wonderful! Again!”

  Apollo opened his mouth, and Matisse smacked him. “She’s joking.”

  “Birthday Girl gets, what Birthday Girl wants.”

  Ryan placed the pancakes on her lap, while Seok brandished his maple syrup like it was a fine wine. Confidently, he drizzled it over the pancakes and she took a bite so huge it almost didn't fit in her mouth.

  “These are good.” Savoring them, she closed her eyes.

  When she opened them again, Apollo’s cheeks were flushed. He bit his lip, trying to hide his smile, but his dimples gave him away.

  “Hats off to the pancake master.” She cut another smaller piece, and cupped her hand beneath it.
“Try it.”

  He chewed and swallowed thoughtfully. “She’s right. I am the best pancake maker.”

  Cutting another bite, she offered it to each guy. Ryan smiled, holding up his hand and she made a play sad face. “But it’s my birthday.”

  Groaning, he took a bite. “I hope none of you are sick.”

  Apollo picked up her empty plate and Cai handed her coffee. “What are we doing today?” She sipped, the warmth of both the coffee and her happiness making her giddy.

  “Apollo and I have to go.” Ryan imitated her sad face. “I know. Boo.”

  “Last test?” She sipped again. Best birthday ever.

  “Two for me.” Apollo pointed. “One for him. But his lasts three hours and one of mine is a presentation. We’ll be back to go to dinner.” He gave her a kiss on her head. “I have a present, but you have to wait for tonight.”

  “You do?” Her voice squeaked. It had been years since anyone got her a present beside herself.

  Nodding, he leaned down, dropping a kiss on her mouth and then one on her nose. “Happy Birthday, baby.”

  Ryan was next. As soon as Apollo stepped back, he sat next to her, taking her coffee and putting it on the bedside table. “I missed you this week, Nore.”

  “You’re a studying fiend.” It was okay he was busy. “Go get A’s.”

  His kiss was different than Apollo’s, who was always so careful of her. Ryan commanded her body, wringing out whatever respond he wanted from her. She arched toward him, holding his face to hers when he would have pulled away.

  “See you tonight.”

  “Good luck, Ryan. Are the rest of you headed out, as well?” she asked, trying to play it cool. Even if they all had to leave, this birthday left every other birthday in the dust.

  There were a series of head shakes, and one giant yawn from Matisse. “Nope. We are at your beck and call.”

  Poor guy. “I beck you to bed.” She pointed to Matisse and then the door.