Chapter Twenty-Five
Nora
Friday night I was so mad at Eli I couldn’t see. Blind. Blind with rage. When I went back into the house, Mom knew something was wrong, but how could I explain? I wasn’t even sure what happened, and I’m still not sure I want to know.
It was like he was accusing me of doing something wrong, when literally all I did was fall for him. Hard. Too hard to get up again easily.
So I didn’t. I stayed in bed most of the day on Saturday. Somewhere between episodes of Gilmore Girls and napping with Marie Curie, I realize:
Eli didn’t disprove my hypothesis, he totally proved it. We had a bad first kiss, and he was and is still totally wrong for me, which means my theory is sound. Yes, okay, I let myself fall for him. I let myself forget the science. I did that. The rest was all him. He said it himself—these last few weeks were all about teaching me some sort of sick lesson. I didn’t stand a chance.
I just wonder what he thought was going to happen next. He was only pretending to care about me.
Unless he wasn’t…?
I don’t believe that, though. Not as cruel as he was to me in his backyard.
Clearly, he doesn’t care, and he certainly doesn’t love me. In fact, now we’re not even friends.
On Sunday I know I need to get up. No more wallowing. I’m an intelligent woman with a bright future, even if it is at Citrus State. I have homework to do, the Science Olympiad to study for. Cat poop to scoop.
My life is nonstop adventure and fun.
Abby texts me and asks what I’m doing Thursday. Apparently there’s a bonfire at the beach. She’s grounded, and she really wants to go, which I now know is Abby code for, I need to tell my parents I’m at your house.
At least she invited me this time.
There’s still no word from Emory, which isn’t bad news—yet. They start handing out money in late March, although I’m trying to not get excited, because I probably won’t get enough. If I don’t, I’m staying here. There’s no way I’m going to watch Mom sink into debt because she thinks that’s where I should go. Money from Dad is not realistic. I love him, but he’s the biggest cheapskate ever. State is cheap, and I can live at home. Why would I want to do anything different?
Ugh. I roll out of bed and go to the window. It’s bright and sunny and the opposite of my mood.
What I need right now is Gigi.
All my life, she’s helped me see past the terrible things and focus on the big picture. I just hope she remembers me.
Mom is at her plaque scraper’s study group today, so I get in the car by myself for the first time. I’m surprisingly relaxed, or maybe I’m completely lying to myself. I forbid myself to turn my head toward the Costases’s house as I back down the driveway. I don’t want him to think I care what’s going on over there.
Every time I think of what happened, it’s like being hit by a steamroller. Flattened, all the life gone out of me.
The drive goes well. I only miss the entrance once, and I don’t almost hit any cats. The center is buzzing with activity, and the smell isn’t too bad today. I think it’s being masked a little by the strong odor of maple syrup, probably from breakfast.
Claudia opens Gigi’s door when I knock. “Well, hello there,” she says. “It’s good to see you.”
I feel somewhere else, not on the planet. I force myself to land and smile at her. “You, too.”
She peeks out the door before she closes it. “No Eli today?”
I stiffen hearing his name. “No. Just me.”
“Well okay, that’s fine by us, right, Maggie? Look who’s here.”
Gigi is in her chair, knitting. She looks up and her eyes brighten. “Nora.” She waves me in.
Thank God. She knows me.
Claudia winks. “It’s a pretty good day today.”
I go straight to my grandmother. She lifts her arms and gives me a tight squeeze. It feels so good and I let it sink in, the feel of her love surrounding me, one of my favorite things in the world. I need it so badly right now.
She points to the chair beside her. “Have a seat and tell me what’s wrong. You look like someone just kicked your dog.”
She sounds strong today, so much like her old self. I wrap that around me, too.
“If you ladies don’t mind,” Claudia interrupts, “I think I’ll take a little break. All right with you, Maggie?”
Gigi huffs. “Of course it is. I don’t need a babysitter!”
Claudia chuckles and makes her way to the door. “No, you most certainly do not.”
“So tell me what’s wrong.” Gigi waits.
I swallow hard. I didn’t come here to ruin Gigi’s day, but if I could get some of her advice, that would be amazing. But where do I start? I lean forward on the table, and prop my chin in my hand. “Everything?”
“Oh my. That’s a lot of things.”
My mind is overrun with things to say. I inhale, ready to let it all out. “Everything. Everyone. I don’t know.” I flip the pages of a magazine on the table, not even looking at it.
“Where’s the boy today?”
“Eli?” It hurts to say his name.
Her eyes dim for a second. “Yes, of course, Eli.” She scans my face, knowing that she forgot something she should have remembered.
I swallow. “Not coming today. Or ever again, probably, at least with me.”
“Ahhh. So he’s the problem.”
I don’t confirm or deny.
“What happened?”
Flipping pages manically, I blow out a breath. “He did something terrible.”
Gigi reaches out and touches my arm, stilling me instantly. “How terrible?”
Somewhere in my chest, I can feel my heart crumble just a little more. “So bad we can’t be friends anymore.”
Both her eyebrows lift. “That doesn’t sound like him.” She tsks. “He must have changed. He’s always seemed like such a nice boy.” She wrinkles up her nose. “Didn’t he make you a pie?”
My mind goes back to the Costases’s kitchen, and the surprise pie Eli made. “What?”
She pauses. “Yes. I remember he came here. He asked me how to make pie. Didn’t he?”
It’s hard, seeing her confused. “I think he must have.”
It’s like a memory is dancing around her and she’s trying to catch it. “Yes, he did,” she says, stronger. “He said he was going to make a pie for you. Because there was some other boy trying to woo you.”
I blink. “He said ‘woo’?”
“I don’t remember.” She moves her hand off my arm and sits back. “I told him to make sure his butter was cold, you know, because that’s the key to a perfect crust.”
“Really?”
She smiles. “Oh yes, I gave him my recipes. He didn’t give you a pie?”
Another chunk of my heart falls off. I’m like a melting glacier. “No, he made a pie. But he didn’t give it to me. He was tricking me because he thinks my ideas are stupid. Because he doesn’t think I should wait to find what you had with Harold.”
Again, confusion spreads across her face. “Harold?”
“Yes. Harold? Grandpa. You had that magic first kiss with him, and you knew he was the one.”
She holds her hand up to her lips, like she can still feel it. “Yes, I did.”
“Yes!” I say, so loud it startles her. “I mean, yes, that’s exactly what I’m waiting for, what you always said—it’s like a chemical reaction, it either happens or it doesn’t, and it happened for you. You were meant to be. That’s all I want—that kiss, like you had with Grandpa, the kiss that will tell me I’m with the right person. So that I’ll never…”
“Never what, sweetheart?”
I lift a shoulder. “Get my heart broken? End up like Mom and Dad? Divorced, depressed, lonely? If Mom had waited for that reaction…or Dad had…”
She sits up taller in her recliner. “Oh, pooh! If they had waited for some silly reaction, you wouldn’t be here!”
Silly reaction?
“I’m sorry, dear. It doesn’t work that way. Love isn’t a reaction. Reactions fizzle out.”
She pokes at my arm to make sure she has my attention.
“Well don’t they? I don’t think that love is ‘there’ or ‘not there’—it’s not that simple. The first time I kissed my Harold, yes, it was full of passion, and magic, yes it was. And then we got married after two weeks! How stupid was that?”
She chuckles, remembering.
This conversation is not going according to plan. I feel low-key nauseated. “You always said you were happy.”
“Well of course we were happy, and then we weren’t, and then we were again. Don’t think just because we were married for forty years he didn’t ever break my heart. He did, and I broke his.” She pauses, remembering. “There were a few times I wasn’t even sure we’d make it.”
My own breaking heart is pounding fast. She must be remembering wrong. I need her to tell me I’m right, that there is a science to finding true love. I need her to tell me that the first kiss is everything. “But you did make it,” I say. “Because he was the right person for you. You knew it from the beginning, because of the kiss. You said it was like a lightning strike. Or an earthquake. You knew.”
My grandmother watches me, full of love, no sign of a glitchy memory, and takes my hand. “The kiss, the kiss, the kiss, Nora, Nora, my dearest. I do think that some people are meant to be together, and maybe you can know it. For me, it was like an earthquake, for you it could be different. Your ‘earthquake’ might be a touch, or a glance. It might be a terrible first kiss, followed by a magnificent second kiss. It might be a friend who makes you pie.”
Her eyes light up and she winks at me.
My mouth goes dry. She knows. What did he say to her?
“Well I was ready, Gigi,” I blurt out and try to control my quivering bottom lip. “I was going to give him another chance. Then…” I can’t help it. I start crying.
“Oh no, oh dear, oh no. Come here,” Gigi says.
I don’t want to cry. Crying is a waste of time, but I can’t seem to stop, so I go to her. I kneel in front of her recliner and she puts her arms around me.
“Oh, oh, come now.”
I lay my head in her lap, sobbing.
She smoothes my hair with her small, frail hand. “You know the best thing about love?”
I sniff. “No.”
She seems lost in a memory, somewhere far away. “It’s unpredictable. That’s what makes it such a miracle. So wonderful. It can’t be defined, or proven. It’s too big for that. Don’t try to make it small. And don’t you dare let it pass you by.” She keeps brushing back my hair, humming a song I’ve never heard. “I’ve always liked your hair down like this,” she says. “It suits you.”
I let myself absorb her words. I feel her touch, and soon, I’m not crying anymore.
When Claudia comes back, Gigi is asleep and I’m still at her feet. She helps me up, and Gigi doesn’t stir.
I cover her with a blanket from her bed and bend down to her ear. “I’ll see you next time,” I whisper, then kiss her gently on the top of her head.
I love her so much, and even though I’m not sure I can get past what Eli’s done, I think I see her point.
Love—family, or romantic, or whatever—is big. Maybe too big to be quantified by an experiment, or explained by science.
Maybe it was wrong to even try.