Page 71 of Reeling in Love

I take a quick shower before she comes. It always makes me feel better. It’s as if the water washes away the bad feelings and thoughts, leaving me with more optimism and hope.

I’m already dressed when the door opens and a timid Nora walks in.

“I’m…,” I say, but she doesn’t let me finish.

“I’m sorry Gabs. You’ve been a good friend. Always. You’ve always been by my side, even when I tried to shun you. You’re the one constant that I’ve had. Believe me, I was only trying to help,” she whispers and a tear rolls down her cheek and she slumps down on the floor by the bed, her legs folded, her knees close to her face and her face buried in them.

I feel as if someone is tearing my heart apart with their bare hands. It’s she who’s crying, but every cell of my body feels the pain. What have I done? Why was I so harsh on her? I know she’d do nothing to intentionally hurt or harm me. Everything she’s done, right from the time she told Mom we were a couple, has been to help me and I… Jesus! I’m a fool. I don’t deserve a friend like her. I’ve made her cry, for God’s sake. I’m really the worst monster in the history of monsters.

I slide down on the floor next to her, hold her shoulders, and pull her closer to me. She complies easily, buries her face in my shoulder, and breaks into sobs.

“Easy, Nora. It’s me who should apologize. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I know you had only my best interests at heart. Please forgive me if you can.”

“No. No,” she says through her sobs. “The mistake is mine. I acted rashly. But I was so upset when I found out that it was Kevin who leaked that information, and that you’re in a mess because of me, that without thinking more thoroughly I called up Sophia and Daphne. Instead of helping you, I made things worse. I’ll leave tomorrow morning and accept that it was my stupid brain behind this all.”

“Shh. Calm down. We’ll figure it out together. Okay? I’m as much to blame as you. I could’ve told Mom you were kidding, but I didn’t. And I did talk to Alex when we’d decided not to tell anyone. You didn’t force me to do anything. So don’t blame yourself. Now, look at me.”

I hold her face and turn it up. Her eyes are red. The kohl is smudged and her nose seems to be leaking. I kiss her on the cheek and hand her a tissue from the side table.

She blows her nose, her sniffles soft and shaky. I gently wipe away her tears, feeling the dampness on my fingertips. As she lifts her head, her eyes meet mine, glistening and filled with a raw vulnerability that makes my chest tighten. I've never seen her like this before, not even during those nights when she’d rush over to our house as a kid, escaping her parents' fights. Back then, she’d put on a brave face, cracking jokes or changing the subject to anything but what was really going on.

Now, though, there's no mask, just the pain she's been holding back. She looks hurt, angry, and upset. And worse, I am to blame for making her feel like this. I’d beat myself senseless if that could bring back a smile on her face.

“Sophia called.”

Her eyes grow wide, uncertainty written clearly over her features.

“She says someone has found out about the proof this TruthSeekerBob is talking about. She didn’t know the details. Her ‘guy’ is on his way to her office and she’s called us both there. You up for it?”

She bites her lips and nods.

“You wanna freshen up before leaving?” I ask, handing her a glass of water, and she nods again and gulps it down.

She stands up, picks out her clothes, and takes a shower while I message Sophia that we’ll be at her office in twenty or thirty minutes. I book a cab and we’re ready to go in ten.

The ride to Sophia’s office is eerily quiet. Neither of us knows what to say to the other. I hold her hand throughout and she lets me. That’s all I need for now. We’ll take it one step at a time.

We’re ushered into a huge cabin. My office room in Boston is tiny in comparison. It has a full-length tinted glass wall that gives a beautiful view of the city’s skyline. Abstract paintings, probably by some famous artist, adorn the other walls. I don’t want to comment because I know nothing about art and I don’t want to start a conversation by appearing ignorant. There’s a large couch on one side and an enormous wooden table on the other.

Sophia’s sitting on a chair behind that table, two monitors open in front of her. She stands up when her secretary announces us.

“Hi. Glad you could make it,” she shakes my hand, then Nora’s and gestures us toward the couch. She turns to her secretary, who is standing respectfully by the door. “Please call Monsieur Dupont. Merci.”

Nora shifts uneasily on the couch. “About earlier… Sophia. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you. It was rash on my part to do that and uncalled for.”

“It’s okay, Nora. It happens.” She’s surprisingly calm.

Someone brings us glasses of water and by then the secretary is back with a short, balding man, with rimless glasses, dressed in a blue suit.

“Ah, Monsieur Dupont. Merci d’être venu. Je crois que vous parlez anglais?”

“Oui, Mademoiselle.”

“Great. Then let’s talk in English for the benefit of my friends here. This is Gabriel and Nora. These are the people TruthSeekerBob is talking about nowadays.”

We stand up and shake hands with the man.

“Happy to meet you both,” he says with a very strong French accent.

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