What I Should’ve Said
Chapter 4

Norah

Apparently, when you combine embarrassment and anxiety and exhaustion and fear, time becomes a vortex.

It also doesn’t help when an alphahole in a truck dumps you in the middle of town, a good four miles from your actual destination, because you got sassy with his broody, lecture-giving ass.

Thankfully, cell service picked up in downtown Red Bridge, and I was able to successfully GPS myself to Josie’s. I know it took me just over an hour to walk to her house on Oak Street, but I have no idea how long I’ve been standing here since arriving. I’m drenched in sweat from the unexpected exercise, and Lil’s suitcase looks like it’s been involved in a hilltop battle with a conscientious cooperator named Desmond Doss.

Leaving a man at the altar, followed by a few days of couch time and violent movies with Lil at the Holiday Inn in Midtown—the whole reason I’m able to make a Hacksaw Ridge reference, honestly—and a journey from hell have left me feeling like I’m barely a person. But I’m here now, and that’s all that matters.

If only I could get myself to lift my hand and knock.

I take inventory of my sister’s house and yard again, for what has to be the hundredth time, but this time, it’s…different. Overwhelming nostalgia hits me square in the chest. I’m in a Lana Del Rey song, and everywhere I look are things that make me feel simultaneously happy and sad.

Everything is the same. The yellow shutters. The white brick. The pink door and porch swing. Even the little yard ornaments and knickknacks in the form of fairy statues and gnomes and frogs littering the garden beds surrounding the house.

This used to be our grandmother Rose’s cottage and our father’s childhood home.

After our grandmother passed away, Josie moved out of the small, studio apartment above her coffee shop and started living here. And from the looks of it, the only thing she’s done with the place is keep it maintained. Everything else is exactly as it was when we were kids, and that realization settles the smallest sense of relief inside my belly. I feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be.

I just hope my sister feels the same way.

I know I should’ve called her before I left New York—should’ve let her know I was coming—but Josie is stubborn as a mule, and we haven’t been on speaking terms since Grandma Rose’s funeral.

Truth be told, I have a fifty-fifty shot of her welcoming my presence versus pulling out a shotgun and firing it in my direction.

It’s time, Norah.

I take a big, deep breath, and just as I’m lifting my suitcase up the front porch steps, my phone dings from my purse. I stop at the top and pull it out, expecting to replace more angry texts from Thomas—it’s been an onslaught today—but when I see Lillian’s name on the screen, I click to open her message.

Lil: Did you make it to Red Bridge?

Me: I did.

Lillian has been by my side since I was a kid. She was the only girl at the Manhattan private school my mother enrolled me in who didn’t care whether my family had money. Which, at the time, we didn’t.

We’ve seen each other through it all. Braces, acne breakouts, high school, relationship breakups, college, Lil’s first job at a marketing firm—she is still there and thriving—receiving family trust funds that twenty-year-old girls probably shouldn’t have access to, weddings-that-didn’t-happen, and losing said trust funds—which, yeah, that one only relates to moi.

She’s my best friend, and if I miss anything about my life back in New York, it’s her.

Lil: And how did Josie take it?

Me: I’m currently standing on her front porch, trying to replace the courage to knock.

Lil: She’s your sister, Norah. She might be a little mad, but she’s not going to shove you out on the street. It’s all going to be okay.

I snort, but it’s not out of humor. Lil doesn’t know my sister like I do. Josie had no qualms with cutting our mother out of her life when she turned eighteen. And it’s not like she’s been trying to make amends with me for the past five years.

Frankly, I have no idea how this is going to go down, and I start to question myself on whether I’m making the right decision. Before I know it, I’m frozen on my sister’s front porch, in the middle of an internal crisis, and staring down at the screen of my phone as I scroll through text messages with Thomas. What used to be a happy couple texting each other about random, daily things quickly turns into a one-sided conversation that started the moment he realized I wasn’t going to say “I do.”

Thomas: Lillian said you left. What the fuck, Norah? What is going on? There are three hundred people here ready to watch us get married, and you left???

Thomas: I can’t believe this is fucking happening right now. Answer your phone. Call me back.

Thomas: You seriously left me on our wedding day? Do you even realize what you’ve done? There are journalists here, Norah. Do you have any idea what they’re going to say about you?

Thomas: I’ve given you everything. EVERYTHING. And this is how you repay me?

Thomas: Do you have any idea how this looks for me? For my family?

Thomas: NORAH CALL ME BACK.

Thomas: I hope you realize you are making the biggest mistake of your life.

Thomas: Your mother is devastated. I can’t believe how selfish you are right now. It’s like you don’t even care what you’re putting everyone else through.

I don’t even make it past our wedding-day-that-didn’t-happen—when the messages from him started to get really ugly. My mother’s text messages, on the other hand, are a quicker read. There are only two.

Mom: NORAH. This behavior is unacceptable. You have embarrassed yourself. Your family. Thomas. Everyone. You should be ashamed of yourself. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What kind of mess you’ve left us all with? You are being so selfish and stupid. You were lucky to replace a man like Thomas, but now, you’ve ruined everything.

Mom: I will never forgive you for this.

Regardless of the things I know about my mother now, the words still sting like a bitch. Being a people pleaser is ingrained in me. Thankfully, they also reinforce one thing—coming to Red Bridge was the right choice.

Honestly, it was the only choice.

I shove my phone back into my purse and return my attention to Josie’s front door. After the world’s longest inhale and exhale, I lift my fist and sound off three good knocks against the pink wood.

Instantly, I want to run away and hide in a bush, but the sounds of movement in the house are enough to tell me I wouldn’t even make it off the porch in time.

The door opens with a whoosh of air that brushes across my face, and Josie is right there, standing in front of me.

She looks exactly the same as the last time I saw her. The same curls as mine, only platinum blond instead of light brown, unchanged bright-green eyes that curl into the most perfect cat eye with her makeup, and a cute button nose. Her colorful tattoo sleeve on her right arm that I saw for the first time at our grandmother’s funeral is still there, and the same J necklace at her throat—a keepsake of our sister Jezzy’s that Josie’s worn since the day she died—hasn’t changed either. She’s even sporting a similar style to the one I’ve always known her for, sticking to a simple tank top and jean shorts.

She looks like Josie…like my sister…and I’m both happy and terrified knowing what that means I should expect for my reception.

“Norah?” The surprise in her voice is evident.

My smile is shaky. “Hi, sis.”

A million emotions flit across Josie’s face. First, shock. Then, confusion. Then… “What in the hell are you doing here?”

Oh boy.

“Uh…I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by and see how you’re doing.”

“In the neighborhood?” she retorts with narrowed eyes. “Red Bridge is nine hours away from New York.”

“Okay, so I wasn’t exactly in the neighborhood, but I…wanted to see you.”

“You came all the way to Red Bridge because, suddenly, after five years of no contact, you wanted to see me?” Her brow furrows in skepticism. “You really expect me to believe that?”

“I did. I do want to see you. Five years is too long for anyone, and it’s definitely too long for us,” I respond, but when she looks down at my suitcase with hard eyes and a fixed mouth, I know I’m going to have to hit the honesty a little harder if I have any chance of swaying her. “And…I kind of…sort of…need a place to stay for a little while.”

“You want to stay here? With me?” She looks down at my suitcase again. “And you didn’t think it was a good idea to give me a heads-up?”

“I tried to call you,” I lie, and Josie’s gaze jerks back to mine.

“Bullshit.”

“Okay, so I didn’t try to call you because I had a feeling you’d strongly discourage my presence.” Not to mention, emotionally, I’ve had a lot going on.

A harsh laugh jumps from her lungs. “Very perceptive of you.”

“So…can I come in or…?”

“How about you tell me why you’re here first, and then I’ll decide.”

I push out a breath. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the doorframe. She’s settling in for the long haul, but I’m not ready to open Pandora’s box of wedding day disaster. Though, I’m going to have to replace some manner of compromise with myself if I want in that door.

“I just needed a break.”

“You left New York because you needed a break?” she questions. “And why do you need a break exactly? Life getting a little hard in the penthouse?” She laughs at me, which stings. “Or, maybe, you’re low on maids and overwhelmed at doing your own laundry? Or, I know, maybe you’re distraught because Hermes won’t let you buy the latest bag?”

Typically, I, Norah Ellis, am the peacekeeper. The person who doesn’t give in to anger and who doesn’t shout or let mean words flow off her tongue. But evidently, I am not that person today. The derision in her voice, mixed with everything I went through back in New York, burrows underneath my skin like a little parasite, and once it replaces its way into my bloodstream, I can’t hold back.

“I know it’s probably bringing you great enjoyment to replace me on your front porch like a stray cat, but I just took a nine-hour Greyhound bus ride and got dropped off in the middle of nowhere and had to hitchhike another ride from a complete stranger who also happened to be the world’s grouchiest man, which ended in me walking here from the center of town, and I’d really like to just sit down. And maybe…you know…drink some water to stave off a hospital stay for dehydration.” My voice breaks on an almost-cry, but I suck the urge back down into the depths of my throat. “Could you replace it somewhere in your apparently cold, dead heart to let me come inside first before we get into all the tragic details of the current state of my life?”

Josie stares at me, considering. It’s the last straw on my delicate hold.

“Please?” I beg, a tear breaking loose. “Show your sister some mercy?”

“It’s not bringing me enjoyment to see you cry,” she eventually consoles. “Not at all, but it’s been over five years, Norah, and it’s not like you were the nicest person to me the last time I saw you. Actually, you were a total bitch.” She’s referring to our grandmother’s funeral, and I know she’s right. I was my mother’s soldier that day, doling out all the things that brought our relationship to this point. I’m not proud of my behavior back then, but in my defense, I was only twenty-one and still naïve about our mother.

“Josie, you have to admit that you weren’t being nice either. You told Mom to ‘get the fuck out’ in the middle of a funeral. Actually, you screamed it. In front of everyone. It was quite the scene, if I recall.”

“It’s not my fault that Eleanor decided to show up somewhere she was definitely not welcome.”

“Josie.” My eyes go wide as old habits of defending our mother die hard. “It was Grandma Rose’s funeral. Pretty sure that wasn’t the time or place to go off on our mother.”

“I think it was the perfect time,” she refutes with two hands to her hips. “After Dad died, Mom treated Grandma Rose like shit. For years. The last person she would’ve wanted at her funeral was Eleanor. You and I both know that. Not to mention all the other evil shit she’s done.”

The last person I want to continue to defend right now is our mother, but today, mentally, I am spent. I don’t know how to restructure a lifetime way of thinking and keep myself upright and uncrying. Everything inside me breaks, and my whole body hiccups with tears.

“Josie, I know we have a lot to talk through. I know there are a lot of unsaid things that need to be said and apologies to be made. But I’ve just had the worst week of my life, and I have nowhere else to go. Do you think you could replace it in you to show me some temporary compassion and let me come inside?”

When she doesn’t respond or make any move to let me step into the cottage, I go for broke and use guilt as my tactic. “You know if Grandma Rose were still alive, she’d let me come in.”

“You play dirty,” Josie mutters on a sigh. She looks me up and down one more time, but ultimately, she steps out of the doorway and gestures for me to come inside. “Fine.”

Hallelujah! I’d do a tap dance on her front porch if I had the energy, but instead, I settle for, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes. “You can stay here, but don’t think I’m agreeing to this being some kind of permanent roommate situation,” she adds over her shoulder as she heads down the main hallway that leads into the kitchen.

I step inside, dragging my now-dusty suitcase behind me, and follow her.

This isn’t exactly being welcomed with open arms, but it’s not being kicked out on the street either. Silver lining?