Chapter Twenty-nine
Landon
IN THE UBER BACK TO my place, Nora is quiet and I feel lighter than before. Even after saying an awkward goodbye to Stausey and her husband, I felt better somehow. A sense of relief came to me with each word Nora and I spoke to each other on the roof. There’s less for us to climb over now that we’ve torn down some of the wall between us. It’s still there, but relationships aren’t simple. The more I get to know Nora, the more I realize Dakota’s and my relationship was too much for our age. We fell into a comfortable pattern of dependence, but no matter what happens, I will always be here for her. Nora seems to have a better understanding of this now.
Now that I’ve shared the worst day of my life with her, I feel closer to her. Why is it that it takes pushing my pain onto her for us to feel closer? Pain shouldn’t be something we feel better sharing. Pain is supposed to be dealt with in solitude, isn’t it?
Hell, I don’t know. Even though I think about that day often, I haven’t relived the entire ordeal in a long time. Carter’s death had the biggest influence on who I grew up to be. It changed everything I thought I knew about loss and love and pain. I knew nothing about pain or suffering until I held Dakota’s thrashing body down on a cold linoleum floor as the paramedics dragged her brother’s still body from his bedroom.
They had to give her a shot to get her body to calm. She slept in my bed that night, curled up to my chest, and I could feel her heart breaking every time she woke up and realized it wasn’t a nightmare. Her brother was gone. Dakota’s dad was nowhere to be found, though I was sure that if we looked hard enough, we would find him at a bar.
Nora keeps shuddering in my arms, and now I’m not sure if telling her was a good idea. I could have told a less detailed version, I suppose. I wish the memories from that day would fade. I keep waiting for that to happen, but it hasn’t yet.
The farther we drive from Manhattan, the more distance I feel between Nora and me. Whatever happened on that roof definitely brought us closer, but the darker it gets, and the farther we get from the glimmering city, will we be able to keep this going? Will the darkness make it easier to hide from each other?
“I’m sorry about tonight,” Nora finally says when we get to my building. She unwraps her limbs from mine and slowly climbs out of the car. The quiet night of Brooklyn has penetrated our Manhattan bubble.
“It wasn’t all bad.” I shrug, trying to make her feel a little better.
I can tell by her expression that she isn’t buying it. She doesn’t say anything as we step onto the sidewalk.
“Do you want to come up?”
She nods and I reach for her hand.
I hear a ragged breath, and then Dakota’s voice cuts through the darkness. “You haven’t answered my calls all day,”
Nora drops my hand. Dakota stands up from the ledge she was sitting on. She has a leaf in her hand and she’s picking at it, dropping pieces to the sidewalk beneath her.
“What are you doing here, Dakota?” My voice is calm. I would love for the three of us to be able to have a civil discussion out here on my sidewalk. A group of young guys walks into the store below my apartment, and my gaze follows them inside and over to the counter. Ellen is working, alone it seems. I watch them, while watching the two women next to me. Nora is standing slightly behind me, not looking at Dakota. Dakota is standing in place, her fingers still picking at the leaf. I wonder if Nora sees Dakota in a different light now—perhaps Nora will understand her a little more?
My eyes take in both women, and I find my memories are mixing with reality. I was just in the past with a broken, sobbing Dakota, and now here she stands, hands on hips, hair and attitude as wild as ever. She doesn’t look broken anymore. Does that mean she isn’t?