Page 88 of Shifting Gears

It has to get better eventually, Nora reasons. Once she’s had enough distance from Dani and Riverwalk and the life she led there, things will revert. She’ll slip back into the way things were before. The pain will ease. Her first heartbreak all those years ago had been hard, but she’d brushed herself off and moved on. She can do it this time, too.

But what finally shakes Nora’s certainty isn’t the concern of her friends or her own building stress or the constant dreams. It’s a sharp knock at her apartment door at 11:15 p.m. on a Friday night.

She opens it to reveal Lydia, dressed to the nines in a gorgeous minidress and smiling expectantly.

“Evening,” Lydia drawls. “I heard you were back in town. Any chance you have time for me these days?”

It’s a deeply familiar sight. Nora’s condo is close to the places Lydia likes to party. Usually Lydia would text or call first, but Nora had often been the starting point for Lydia’s nights.

Before.

Nora steps back to let Lydia in out of pure habit. Lydia throws her coat over the couch, slips out of her shoes, and, as always, heads right to the bedroom.

It’s a routine Nora knows by heart. Exactly the way things used to be.

She can even imagine what will happen if she follows. She’ll fall into bed with Lydia, have decently satisfying sex, and forget her problems for an hour. Efficient and impersonal, two words she once valued highly. Lydia will then fluff her hair, fix her makeup, and jet off to whatever party she has lined up next. Nora will fall asleep alone.

It’s so unfamiliar an idea now that it feels like living someone else’s life. She’s watching a movie starring her past self, but her current self is detached from it entirely—floating somewhere above it, thinking instead about how Dani would feel if she knew there was someone else in Nora’s bed.

The worst part is that Nora is sure Dani would accept it. She’d say something understanding and perfect, assure Nora that she just wants her to be happy. But Nora can imagine the look in Dani’s eyes. The hurt. The regret.

“I don’t have all night, you know,” Lydia calls from the bedroom.

Nora sinks down onto the couch.

She and Dani parted ways almost two months ago with the understanding that they would never see each other again. They made no promises. There’s no reason for Nora to feel anything but enthusiastic about Lydia’s presence. It should be a welcome distraction, in fact. A step back toward normalcy.

But Nora doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want the fleeting, purely physical night Lydia is offering, or the isolation that accompanies it. The loneliness. Nora wants the connection she had this summer. She wants that depth, and the trust they shared. She wants something real.

She wants Dani.

“Are you coming?” Lydia asks, leaning against the door jamb now. She’s half naked, her dress probably lying somewhere on the floor of Nora’s bedroom, and she looks irritated. “I skipped out on a yacht party for this.”

“No,” Nora says distantly. “I’m not coming.”

The silence is deafening. Nora can detect Lydia’s shock purely from the fact that she doesn’t snap back with something witty. Hesitant footsteps approach, and the cushion to her left sinks under Lydia’s weight.

“Did I do something wrong?” Lydia’s tone is uncharacteristically soft. “I thought—I know it’s been a while, but this is how we’ve always—”

“It’s not you,” Nora says quickly. She picks at her thumbnail, tugging and tearing at skin that only just managed to heal over the summer. “This is all me.”

“Cliché.” Lydia sighs, but she shuffles closer. “So, what’s the issue?”

“The issue is,” Nora says, clawing back a sob, “I can’t do this anymore. Because I fell in love. Like a fuckingidiot.”

“Jesus,” Lydia mutters to herself. She puts an arm around Nora’s shaking shoulders, though, patting her awkwardly. She’s still in her lingerie, which makes the whole thing even more absurd. “This is not how I thought my night was going to go.”

“I’m sorry,” Nora says, wiping furiously at the tears that escape without permission. She hasn’t cried since she left Riverwalk. She hasn’t given herself time to feel any of this since that horrible car ride, and now it’s all catching up with her at once. Her breath shudders. “This isn’t going to happen, so go salvage your night.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lydia huffs. “I’m not leaving when you’re like this. So why don’t you talk to me about it instead of trying to be a martyr?”

It’s almost enough to snap Nora out of it. Lydia has never so much as stayed to cuddle after hooking up, always out of bed and halfway out the door as soon as they’re both satisfied. Somehow her businesslike attitude about the situation and her out-of-character willingness to listen are easier to deal with than Kayla’s empathy or Ash’s jokes.

So Nora shares. She tells Lydia the whole foolish story, from May to September, and Lydia comforts her until well past midnight in her own pragmatic way. She leaves with her clothes back on and firmly intact, even giving Nora one genuine hug before she heads down to catch her cab.

It’s all completely unprecedented, and it drives home a truth Nora hadn’t dared consider until now.

Maybe things have changed irrevocably. Nora has changed. And she might never re-calibrate to who she used to be.

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