“Well, that was...” she trailed off, taking entirely too long to come up with a positive that would sound even remotely genuine. “That was just... so bad.” Nora gave into a snorting laugh as she admitted the truth, glancing to Mike with a regretful wince. “And totally my fault.” In theory, a small showing of short films by local artists sounded like it could’ve been fun, but unfortunately, it stayed as just that -- a theory. If the cheap pull-down projection screen and uncomfortable folding chairs hadn’t been bad enough, the subject matter of the films themselves tipped the scales. Nora had expected amateur acting and stop-motion Lego, but what they got was much more... abstract. After over an hour that managed to feel both awkward and boring, she didn’t even pause to think when the lights were flipped on for intermission, immediately grabbing Mike’s hand to run out the door. No amount of free crackers and Dixie cups of wine could make it worth staying a second longer.
A soft groan came from Nora as she dropped her forehead against Mike’s shoulder. “That’s the last time I ever trust a flyer that looks like it was written in fresh Sharpie,” she announced, waiting another beat before lifting her head again. “Sorry that was such a dud. And just very... very weird. -- I think that five minute close-up of a woman extracting pumpkin guts with her bare hands will haunt me forever.” She shivered at the memory, dramatically shaking out her shoulders.
Nora lurched, retching again as she gripped the cold railing along the side of the ferry. Thank god she’d lost her mind last week and hacked herself some bangs, otherwise her hair would’ve been in much worse condition – a chunkier, wetter state fueled by the weird combination of lukewarm wine and grilled hot dogs that she’d eaten some hours before. “I hate myself,” she groaned, blearily blinking down at the dark water. She really shouldn’t have chugged that Mike’s Hard Lemonade after snatching it from her tween cousin, either; fuel for the fire now. “Actually,” she tried to start again, taking a thick swallow, “I hate Mom.”
“Nora...” Her sister’s voice drifted in somewhere from her right before she felt the other’s stilled palm continuing to rub slow circles in the center of her back. Mae sounded conflicted, torn between the position of scolding older sibling and supportive best friend -- but she cracked with a slow sigh that softened the tense line of Nora’s shoulders. “You’re gonna have a wicked awful hangover in the morning.”
The blonde groaned again, squeezing her eyes shut tight while trying to focus on the smell of saltwater. It was difficult, though, when her thoughts were constantly drifting back to the beach, thinking about the family outing that her and her mother had tainted with their incessant arguing. It wouldn’t be an official Platt gathering if someone didn’t start shouting accusations or wind up crying, but in hindsight, telling her mom to ‘take a long walk off a short pier’ while they were all standing on the beach had probably taken it a little too far. Maybe she regretted it. Kind of, a little bit.
“I don’t hate Mom,” she amended, finally forcing herself to straighten up as she turned to face her sister. “She’s just... so frustrating. I feel like she’s constantly judging my every move and it’s like she knows exactly how to bring me down when it’ll really suck. She never appreciates anything that I’m trying to do. She doesn’t get it.”
“I know.” Even if Mae was only saying that to placate and soothe her hurt feelings, Nora still felt a momentary swell of comfort. “But... maybe things would be better if you started living a little more conventionally.”
“-- Ugh, as if!” Great, now she was quoting Clueless while feeling queasy. “I don’t want to -- I’m not gonna just be whatever Mom wants! I’m my own person, y’know?” She gave her sister a sharp glance before her eyes bore into the crashing waves below. “Sorry that I’m not like, conquering some excellent career while getting engaged to a financial advisor and picking out names for my future spawn.”
It was an unnecessarily cheap shot at Mae’s latest achievements, but after so much liquor while laying in the sun, she couldn’t stop herself from saying it. Nora couldn’t help the bubble of jealousy that rumbled low in her chest, either, wondering how it could seem like her sister had everything wrapped up in such a perfect, little digestible bite for their mom and the rest of the world to handle. Somehow, no path that she’d taken had ever turned out quite as normal.
To her credit, Mae didn’t even flinch. She continued to watch Nora while slowly beginning to shake her head. “That’s not what I mean. Not the sex and relationship stuff. Fall head over heels for as many art school dropouts as you want. Just... maybe rethink the dropout part. For yourself.”
There was a lapse of silence between them and Nora allowed herself to turn back to her sister, considering what was being proposed. She stayed silent, teeth pressing gently into her bottom lip as she met the other’s gaze.
“Walking dogs won’t pay the bills forever,” Mae continued on, mastering a perfectly balanced tone of well-intentioned advice -- something that neither of them would’ve ever listened to, had it been coming from their mother during one of her midnight rants. “There’s still the salon and you’d always be welcomed back. You know Mom and Gee would help you get into that cosmetology place. Maybe with a little more training... I mean, I can see that you’re still at it.” A teasing smile graced her lips as she reached out, fluffing up Nora’s sweat-wrinkled bangs to keep them out of her eyes.
“I don’t wanna be around Mom that much.”
Already knowing what she actually meant, Mae’s hand fell lower to squeeze her shoulder. “You won’t turn out like Mom.”
“... Or my dad?”
“Definitely not.” The response was instantaneous, followed by the joking quip, “If anything, Jeremy’s the one who’s at risk of winding up like... Carl.”
No matter how distressed she felt, Nora couldn’t stop the scoffing laugh that escaped her, a smile finally tightening her cheeks at the ridiculously ominous (and strangely southern) voice Mae had taken on. Her sister joined in as well, laughing right along with her before asking, “Remember how weird he was about dating Mom?”
“So awkward,” Nora agreed with a shake of her head. “He was way too into getting breakfast at Denny’s, but at least he had a car.”
Wrapped up in the comfort of reminiscing, the worrisome tension in the air seemed to melt away for the time being. Nora’s softened smile stayed in place and Mae squeezed her shoulder again, letting her hand slide to lightly scratch down her shoulder blade, as if chasing an invisible itch. “You done puking?” She asked, receiving a nod of confirmation while her hand dropped away completely and she stepped back. “Let’s go inside, it’s chilly out here.”
“No, you go ahead,” she answered, waving her sister towards the doors that led inside. “I think I’ll wait until we’re a little bit closer.”
With Mae gone, Nora stood alone on the ferry deck. Her fingers curled around the cold railing again, staring out into the darkened horizon that hosted Boston in the distance. After a few seconds, she closed her eyes, concentrated on the whipping feel of wind against her cheeks and the rhythmic rock of the boat as waves swelled and crashed. Life would happen, no matter how still she tried to be, but for as long as she could, she’d steal away little moments like this one to catch up all on her own.
“Are you ready for this?” Nora’s eyes were comically wide, making a valiant (but clearly failed) attempt at suppressing her smile as she stepped into Mike’s apartment. She turned and adjusted the strap of her overstuffed messenger bag, being sure to not break eye contact while slowly starting to shake her head. “Because I really don’t think you're prepared in the slightest. Nuh-uh -- nope.” There was a soft pop to the ‘p’ and whatever tiny amount of actual seriousness she’d been managing to project instantly vanished. Instead, a grin took over as she headed for the living room, comfortably dropping back onto the couch. Murder definitely wasn’t the most happy-go-lucky subject out there, but Nora had never been one to pass up on an opportunity to share the weird factoids floating around in her head. This time around, it just happened to lean a little more morbid. “This presentation is just... It’s really gonna blow you away,” she continued, working as her own personal hype man. Setting her bag at her feet, Nora wiggled out her sticker-covered MacBook and set it on her lap, instantly opening a browser window so she could make her way to the knockoff PowerPoint she’d created for Mike’s benefit. “My comedic timing isn’t as fabulous as yours,” Nora said, glancing in his direction with a teasing look. “So I will be accepting critiques on my puns. But only like, three -- that’s the limit for suggestions before I lose it.”
