Page 9 of Norah

NORAH

My apartment feels too quiet.

It’s always soothed me before, the small space serving as a place of seclusion and safety. As I sit on my couch and gaze over at the small print ofStarry Nightpropped up on the table, I wish it wasn’t so silent. My tiny studio is sparsely furnished, with almost no personal effects that would hint at the type of person who lives here.

The couch is a simple blue weave, designed for function rather than looks. Completing the tiny living area is a plain wooden coffee table, a bookshelf, and a television that never works properly.

Instead of a bedroom, there’s a Murphy bed that no longer returns to its hiding spot. The constant presence of the bed makes it impossible to fit a dining table, so the only dining option is crouched over the coffee table. Good thing I never have guests.

The kitchenette is the size of a closet, cramped but clean. I never cook, so it’s essentially an unused part of the apartment. The walls are faded beige, with a few lighter squares where a previous tenant hung pictures.

I haven’t bothered with any decorations, and theStarry Nightprint is the one pop of life, color, in the entire apartment. Maybe that’s why my eyes keep coming back to it, remembering the day at the museum. Remembering the feeling of normalcy. And the feeling of being with Ethan.

In the days that passed since we last saw each other, I haven’t been able to keep him out of my mind. It’s a jarring change from my usual deliberate numbness. Confusing and alarming, yes. But thoughts of Ethan also warm me, making me feel a bit like something inside me is thawing. I told him I’d go out with him again, and I’ve been warring with myself ever since.

I want to see him so badly. His cute texts each day bring a lightness to my chest, and I daydream of holding his hand again. Forget just holding hands; when I hugged him, it felt like a broken part of me started to heal. I wonder what it would be like to hug him again? To do more than just hug? Is it possible the broken parts of me could mend?

Then there’s the dark voice reminding me I don’t deserve happiness with Ethan. That I would just hurt him. How can I expect something good after all that I’ve done? This voice has kept me hidden in this bustling city for years. I never doubted the voice, the dark reminders. I was sure it was right.

Now… I’m not so sure. When Ethan looked at me, it was like he saw something special. I want to believe in him, in the possibility there could be more. Yet… the yawning loneliness is all I’ve known for so long.

I’ve been so caught up in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the string of texts that came in. All Ethan. The first was an hour ago, then thirty minutes, and two more just a few minutes earlier. I can’t resist smiling at the first two.

8:00pm- I hope you had a good day. I am trying to find a date that will top our first. ;)

8:30- What do you think about the zoo? Wine tasting? Or I can make it a surprise again. Any ideas?

As I read the next two texts, my stomach clenches. Crap.

9:02- Is everything OK?

9:05- I’m just having a weird feeling. Can you text me back just so I know you’re alright?

I feel terrible, as I imagine him worrying that he somehow upset me with his thoughtful texts. When we went out last, he was so attentive to my reactions. He so badly wanted to make sure I was comfortable, and now I’m picturing him beating himself up over some misconstrued slight.

My dark voice purrs at me-just let him go now.He’ll be over it soon and moving on with another woman who isn’t so messed up.

No. I’m not letting him go.Enough with wallowing in my doubt and self-recriminations. I need to make things right. I don’t think a text is adequate, so I call him.

He picks up on the first ring. “Are you OK?”

“Yes, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to ignore your texts, I just… got caught up in some stuff and didn’t see them until just now.”

Ethan takes a deep breath. “I know it’s crazy. I just didn’t hear from you, and got a bad feeling, like something was wrong.” He sounds frustrated with himself.

“It’s not ridiculous.” Wanting to reassure him, I decide that honesty is the best tactic. “I wasn’t in the best mood just before, so I guess you weren’t totally off base. But I’m fine. And knowing that you were concerned about me… feels nice.” Was thattoomuch honesty?

“Norah.” He pauses, then pushes forward. “I know it’s late, and we haven’t made plans, but I’d like to see you tonight. I could come to you, or you could come here, or we could meet anywhere you like. It just… it would make me feel a lot better to see you.”

All the reasons I should say no- it’s too late, I’m not dressed, it’s too soon- all fall away as I imagine Ethan’s warm smile and intriguing green eyes.I want this. No more excuses. I am going to say yes.

“I’d like to see you too.”

Can you hear someone smiling? From Ethan’s response, I think the answer is yes. “That’s great. Where do you want to meet?”

“There’s a deck on the roof of my apartment. Does that sound good?” I’m not ready for him to visit my pitiful apartment, but the roof would be nice in this unseasonably mild fall weather. Plus, something about being under the stars, next to Ethan, feels exciting.

“That sounds perfect. Just send me your address and I’ll be right over. Oh, and Norah?”

---