24
THE TRUTH FEELS LIKE SHAME
NORA
I SHOULD BE SCARED that I don’t remember driving back to the apartment. It should concern me that I don’t remember Cameron and Sophie on the couch examining Cam’s new boobs and the finally-healing incisions, and that I passed right by them without laughing or even commenting in some sarcastic capacity. It should scare me that I said nothing at all to them—and that all of this I have to be told when I finally become aware of myself again.
When I stop moving, Sophie is with me in my bedroom, trying to block me from putting clothes in my suitcase. I don’t know where Cam went, but I’m guessing Sophie asked to go in alone.
“I said stop,” she says, her voice demanding. “Why are you packing? Can’t you say where you’re going at the very least? What the hell happened?”
Her questions sound almost underwater as my mind realigns to the present. “What? I’m going…” I pause, the idea returning and locking into place. “To see my Da. Haven’t seen him in almost a year. I miss him.”
“Right now? You’re going right now.” She parrots herself, dropping the second round like a statement.
“Huh?”
Her expression straightens along with her shoulders, and she grabs me by mine. “Honey, what happened?”
I stare at her face and know she’ll dig her heels in and wait until I spill it. “I can’t, Sophie,” I say. “It’s over with Doc. Like, really and truly over.”
“Why?” She closes the suitcase on my hand and drags me over to the clear side of the bed, but I don’t sit down. Not right away. “I repeat,” she says, “what happened?”
My entire body starts trembling. Guilt over leaving her in the dark for all this time hits me, and I feel like the biggest asshole. “I have to tell you something. And I need your forgiveness,” I say, realizing my error when her face goes white. I scramble to clarify. “No, I mean… because I should have told you this when it happened, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t admit it to myself.”
She releases a breath that takes her entire posture with it. “Nora, I promise you can tell me anything.”
I nod. “You remember Stephen?”
Her eyes immediately narrow, and I wonder if she suspected. “Of course. He was the last actual boyfriend you had. Ended quite abruptly.”
“You never liked him, did you?”
She shrugs. “He seemed a bit kiss-assy to me,” she admits. “Couldn’t pin him down, but you seemed happy—even though I’ll tell you now that he seemed to dominate your time to a goddamn ridiculous degree. I was kind of glad it didn’t last much longer because you started returning my calls again.”
“Do you know why I broke up with him?”
The tension in her body changes the atmosphere. “You said he hit you and you ended it.”
“I minimized that somewhat.”
“Oh, God,” Sophie laments. “It was more.”
“I was pregnant,” I say. The words sound like someone else’s. Sophie’s eyes on me feel like sunlight to a vampire, the sound of her gasp slices across my skin. “I wasn’t far along, less than eight weeks when I miscarried.”
Her hands drop from mine in unison with her jaw dropping open. “And you never said a word?” Her voice tells me she’s hurt, but the look on her face is blank.
It doesn’t matter; I can see her wheels churning. Two years ago, she miscarried her first pregnancy. She was in London at the time, for work, and her mom and I flew last-minute to be with her once we heard what had happened.
Sophie blinks, shaking her head and seemingly unable to form words. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, tears streaming down her face. “I’m… I’m so sorry. Of course you didn’t. I shouldn’t have said—ugh. Ignore me. I love you. So, um. Did… did he have anything to do with it?”
She can barely get the question out, and I can’t blame her.
“We were on a weekend away in San Diego,” I tell her and grab her hand. I need to for the full confession. I stare at our threaded fingers for strength. “Stephen accused me of sleeping around because we always used protection of some kind. I forget what else happened after he kicked me in the stomach—someone must’ve overheard and called the cops. I woke up in the hospital and… well, I wasn’t pregnant anymore.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Nora.” The horror in Sophie’s whisper fills the room and inundates me with the shame and pain of it all.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” I hope she hears me, given that it’s my turn to get out words in the midst of emotional agony.
“It’s okay,” she says, her voice soothing and soft. “Don’t even apologize. Ridiculous.”
I shake my head over and over, waiting for the torture to wane as I try to get a full breath. My face is wet, and I don’t care. I focus on the bitter tickle of the tears falling instead of the memory. Sophie pulls me into a fierce hug, softly apologizing on loop in my ear. I know she feels guilty, but it’s simply for not knowing. She holds me as I cry, and it soothes some of the shock of the situation. We talk through it for a while and eventually, I’m spent. My closest friend doesn’t press for details about anything that happened with Doc. I assume she sees that I literally can’t handle it right now. I can’t even be fully transparent about the whole thing to myself.
“So you’re going to New York? For how long?” she asks, handing me my toiletries bag to stick in my suitcase.
My sigh is shaky. “Well, I’m going to get the first flight available and figure out the return later.”
“Open ended?” Her voice is shrill with panic, but she tamps it back. “I’m sorry. I mean, that just sounds longer than a week or two.”
I shake my head. “I promise it won’t be longer than a few weeks. Probably two, tops. I need to put some distance between Bodhi and myself for a little bit. Plus, I really do want to spend some time with me da.”
“I get it,” she says, nodding. “Call. Text.” She pokes my arm, and I look up. “Don’t you dare disappear on me.”
“Who? Me?” I tease. “I would never. I promise. You would hunt my ass down. Don’t lie.” I point a finger at her.
“Like a fucking psycho,” she promises. “Okay, I have to get back to the house because Fox has a shift tonight. Let me know when you get a flight and all that. I want to know all the details, okay? I worry.”
I smile and nod. “Thanks, mama.”
“Always.”