Very Bad Things

“All I ever needed was love,” I whispered.

She laughed. “Please. Stop with the drama.”

I walked over to stare down at the weight scale. She’d placed them next to the fridge years ago. “I am never getting on this scale again,” I said, picking it up. I slammed it down repeatedly against the marble floor until the face snapped off and bits of white enamel innards flew around the kitchen. Breathing heavily, I stood up and looked at Mother whose mouth gaped open in shock. If she thought that was bad, wait until she saw her china.

“Goodbye, Mother,” I said in a tired voice. I walked out the door, leaving the house of hell where I’d grown up.

As I drove away, I felt something new spark inside me, and I think it was hope, burning like a tiny flame, flickering back to life.

ACCEPTANCE SETTLED OVER me, wrapping around me like a warm blanket as I drove aimlessly around Dallas, not noticing or caring where my headlights led me. Tonight I’d stood up for myself; I’d confronted her with the truth. And in doing so, I’d released some of the darkness I’d carried around for so long. Oh, I wasn’t suddenly magically happy. I wasn’t going to bust out singing “Kumbaya.”

But something had altered within my sprit tonight.

I didn’t need a list. I didn’t need to be bad.

I needed to just be Nora.

I turned my car into Club Vita’s parking lot and sat there, looking up at the window that I knew was Leo’s room. He’d crushed the deepest part of me tonight by choosing Tiffani. How long would they be together? Would he dump her soon or eventually fall in love and commit to her? Whatever happened, I didn’t want to be the sad girl who waited in the wings for Leo’s relationships to combust.

I wanted to find my own happy moments.

I glanced up when I saw the first rays of the sunrise peeking over the horizon. It was a new beginning, the dawn of a new day, and I wanted to live it.

BY SEVEN THAT morning, Aunt Portia had pulled up at the bakery, so I moved my car over to her side of the street. When I walked in, she saw my face and wrapped me in her apron and hugged me hard. I let her hold me, inhaling the comforting scent of baked goods that lingered in the shop. She made me sit while she grabbed cinnamon rolls and two cups of hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream. We settled in at a table near the window. I told her about my fight with Mother; I told her about Finn.

She cried and told me she loved me.

Since her apartment was an hour from BA, we’d made a tentative plan for me to sleep in the attic space above the shop. She had an extra twin bed I could use, and the employee’s bathroom would be my bathroom. There wasn’t a shower, but when Mila dropped by for lunch that day, she said I could come to her house after school for showers.

And so the weekend passed slowly. I spent most of Sunday in my bed in the attic and on Monday, I went to school as if nothing had changed.

After school, Sebastian came in the shop with my shoes and my dress, which was covered in a local dry-cleaner’s plastic. He said Leo had had it dry-cleaned.

I got us coffees and two bear claws, watching in amusement as he devoured his and then the rest of mine. I told him about having a fight with my mom and leaving home to live at the shop. I didn’t say a word about Finn.

“Will it be hard not living in the lap of luxury anymore?” he asked.

“Luxury means nothing when you aren’t safe.”

“Whenever you want to talk about it, I’m here,” he said, eyeing me thoughtfully.

“Don’t get all serious on me. It’s like you’re Leo when you do it. I need my flirty Sebastian back.”

“Okay, how about this: you can shower at the gym anytime, sweet thing,” he said with a comical leer.

“And there he is!”

He laughed and gave my hand a squeeze.

Since it was after lunch, I was surprised to hear the door bell go off, signaling someone had come into the shop, so I looked over to see who it was.

It was my dad. He was talking on his phone, dressed for the courthouse in an expensive, well-cut gray suit. He was tall and handsome in an older, successful way with brown hair that still didn’t have any gray. He ended his call, checked the time on his Rolex and strode toward us, his green eyes checking me over.

My mouth had come open, and Sebastian turned to look at where I was staring. “Who’s that?”

“My dad,” I said weakly, closing my mouth. “I’m just surprised to see him. The last time was at the incident.”

Dad stopped at our table and put his hand out for Sebastian, “Hello, young man. I’m Robert Blakely, Nora’s dad,” he said, showing his flawless manners and breeding.

Sebastian stood tall, put his hand out, and they shook. “Sebastian Tate,” he said and then warned him with, “I’m a good friend to Nora.”

If my dad detected the grimness of Sebastian’s tone, it didn’t register on his face. He just nodded at him and turned to me, “Nora, may we speak alone, please?”

I nodded, and Sebastian reluctantly got up and moved a few tables away.

I offered him a coffee but he refused. He sat down across from me. “How many meetings did you have to cancel to come here?”

He sighed. “Never mind that. I’m here because your mother told me about your disagreement.”

I snorted at the word disagreement. “Did she tell you she hit me?”

“She did not,” he said emphatically.

“It’s not the first time, you know.” I picked at my fingernails. “She called me a whore. I bet she left that part out, too.”