“Skirts have petals?” I wonder stupidly.
Norah laughs, and the sound reverberates through my body. She’s beautiful, as always, but there’s something softer about her today. My eyes travel over her red hair, just begging for my fingers to comb through the curls, and down to the blue tank top that makes her blue eyes shine and accentuates her curves.
“This one does!” she exclaims. “We decided to navigate away from the traditional ball gowns and ballroom scene and make it a garden party, with the dresses resembling flowers. Belle’s will look like a yellow rose. Fitting, don’t you think? Oh, wait. You don’t even know what I’m talking about!”
I smile at her rambling, marveling at how she comes to life when she’s passionate about something.“No, I don’t, but I’m sure I’ll learn soon enough,” I tell her. “Now, I’m starved. I brought Chinese. That alright with you?”
“Absolutely!” She grins.
We set into an easy rhythm, unloading the food and dividing it into bowls. I didn’t think to ask what she liked, so I got a couple of different dishes. Norah seems pleased with both options and takes a little of each, so I do the same.
“Would you like to sit here, on the couch, or on the patio?” she asks hesitantly, seemingly unsure.
“It’s a lovely day out, how about the patio?” I offer.
“Good call. It’s just through there,” she says, pointing to what appears to be a laundry nook off the kitchen.
Following her through a doorway next to a washer and dryer, I step into the room and have no idea what I’m looking at other than yellow fabric.Everywhere.
“Wow… How much fabric do you need to make one yellow rose dress?” I ask, bewildered.
Norah giggles at my stupidity. “A lot. Please don’t judge the mess. When you’re dealing with this much fabric, there’s no containing it.”
She leads the way through a storm door to a small patio with a wrought iron table and chairs just off of the sunroom. The yard is quaint with a small flower bed in one corner, and a couple of trees grow nearby, providing just enough shade to keep the grass from scorching in the summers.
“I really like your place, Norah,” I tell her as we sit down. “It suits you.”
“Thanks. I love it. It’s small, but I don’t need any more than this.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes before Norah asks, “So. What did you do this morning?”
“Honestly? I slept,” I confess. “Coach has been relentless at practice this week. I’m not sure how he expects us to play when we’re bone-tired from running for three hours straight.”
“That sounds horrible. How do you stand it?” She grimaces.
“I love the game. Coach really is a great guy, but he’s been extra crotchety. I think he’s trying to kill us.”
“Well, I hope not,” she cuts in. “Surely he can see the merits of keeping his team alive.”
I shrug. “One would hope.”
We sit quietly, looking into the yard at nothing in particular. The air is warm but not overbearing; a soft breeze makes it almost perfect. Clouds are rolling across the sky, occasionally covering up the sun for moments at a time. They’re starting to turn gray, indicating the possibility of rain.
“Any word from your friend Myra?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Ugh. Yes. She apologized, but we still need to talk about the wholesituation. We were both out of line, but she really took it too far,” Norah says, her brow furrowing.
“By bringing upthe incident?” I hedge. I wasn’t kidding when I told her she doesn’t have to tell me anything she doesn’t want to, but I’d be lying if I said that the curiosity isn’t driving me mad.
Norah sighs heavily. “Yeah. Her words weren’t wrong; it just wasn’t her place.”
“I don’t need to know, Norah,” I tell her, lifting my hands in surrender.
“Unfortunately,” she starts, glancing over at me, “you probably do. If we’re going to be spending more time together,the incidentwill likely affect you too.”
Immediately I’m filled with trepidation but determined to lend her whatever strength she needs.
“First,” I say, “I’m honored that you want to share this with me, but please don’t feel obligated. If you’re not ready to talk about it, I respect that. There’s no rush. For anything.”
