Page 23 of Playing Along

“Hold on a minute!” she shouts back. “I’m not quite ready.”

I pause outside the door, glancing down at my watch to check the time. It’s already 7:10. We don’t have any extra time for a sit down discussion. Although it might actually be easier to tell her this through the door. That way I won’t have to see the pity on her face when she finds out the truth.

“I have something to talk to you about,” I say through the door. “Can you listen and get ready at the same time?”

There’s a thump on the other side of the door, like she’s dropped something, but then she calls, “Sure, sure. Go ahead. I’m listening.”

I inhale deeply. “You remember Joy?” I start off with.

“You mean your sister?” Nora says with a small laugh. “Of course I remember her. I love Joy. How is she doing? Is something wrong?”

“Nah, no. Nothing’s wrong.” I rake a hand anxiously through my hair. “The thing is, my mom passed away last year and because of my unpredictable work schedule, I had to move Joy into a group home.”

“Oh, Jack.” Suddenly I hear her voice right on the other side of the door. “I didn’t know about your mom. I’m so sorry.”

I swallow around the lump in my throat, my vision constricting as tears threaten. After losing my dad when he got shot in the line of duty five years ago, losing my mom felt like the deepest level of unfairness. But considering Nora was raised by her grandparents after her teenage mother skipped town and her father refused to take her—I have no real grounds for complaint.

“Thank you. It was very difficult for both of us, losing her, but we’re healing slowly but surely.” The knob of the door twists, like she’s going to come out, but I put my hand on my side of the knob, holding it shut. “Just, please, let me finish,” I say a little desperately. The tension on the knob goes away, but I keep my hand in place, needing to be sure she can’t surprise me by popping out to see my weakness.

“Anyway, Joy gets some state funding through Medicaid, but the level of care she needs is extensive. I-I-” Again I swallow, this time because I’m struggling to even say the words out loud. “I’ve been having a tough time keeping up with all of the bills,” I rush out. My pride is like a puny kid in the middle of a group of bullies, doubling over on himself as he endures kick after kick, no end in sight.

“Oh Jack,” Nora whispers so softly I almost miss it. I bite my lip, my free hand fisting at my side as I fight the feelings of inadequacy rearing their ugly heads inside of me.

“Anyway,” I force my voice to sound unaffected, “it occurred to me that I really should’ve told you all of this last night, you know, before you agreed to marry me.” I cough. “So, uh, now that you do know, I understand if you want to change your mind.”

There’s silence on the other end of the door for so long that I start to think maybe she didn’t hear me.

Or that maybe she did hear me and consequently crawled out the window to get the heck away from me and my problems.

But before I can investigate the possibility, she speaks. “Jack, please let me out.”

I stare down at the hand still holding the door shut. It starts to shake, my body threatened by her request, begging me to not do as she asks. But I never have been able to refuse Nora anything, so I yank my hand back. A second later the door swings open and Nora stands before me. Her hair is still wet from her shower and she’s wrapped in the bathrobe I stuffed into her bag on a whim—remembering how much she used to like to wear it over her clothes in the winter. She looks like a perfect vision of the way I’d like to start all my mornings from now on. Cozy and sweet and achingly beautiful.

What could she ever want with a man like me?

“Jack Reynolds,” she says softly, “why on earth would you think that finding out that you take care of your family would make me change my mind about marrying you?” Her words, so low in volume, are nonetheless fierce and determined, ringing with finality. I’m in awe of her grace and kindness.

I clench my jaw, refusing to be swept away by the force of my emotions. I can’t let her quiet show of strength expose my vulnerabilities any further.

“Alright then,” I say. “As long as you’re sure.”

A muscle in her own jaw ticks, as if I’ve irritated her, but then her face settles back into a neutral expression and she nods. “I’m sure,” she says. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a wedding to get ready for.” She steps back and swings the door quietly shut, leaving me standing there alone with my failures.

***

“NORA!” I CALL HER name down the hall for the third time in as many minutes, checking my watch again. 7:29.

We need to go. On a good day I can get to City Hall in approximately 24 minutes. But today is not a day where I feel like taking chances with my time. Nora and I need to get married ASAP, and I don’t want traffic or long lines at City Hall or—I don’t know— one of my friends deciding to show up at my front door to check and see why I haven’t answered their calls to get in our way. In addition to Stafford’s multiple calls, my friends Montgomery and Anderson have both called me now too, which means it’s only a matter of time before one of them shows up to my house.

“Coming, coming!” Her voice breezes down the hall, followed shortly thereafter by her appearance in front of me. “How do I look?” she says with a small laugh and a half-turn of her body.

I don’t answer. Can’t answer. Staring at her is all I’m currently capable of because—wow. She looks gorgeous.

She chose the green dress. That’s the one I hoped she’d pick. Not that I took a play out of my buddy Anderson’s book and chose the green tie I’ve got on for that reason. I did not do that. I don’t care about matching her.

She’s done her hair in some sort of half-up, half-down style and the loose ends hit right at her collar bone, dancing along it with every tiny movement of her body. Her makeup is minimal– probably because when I went into her bathroom last night I had no idea what to grab so I simply took a handful of stuff from her top drawer and threw it in the bag–but to me she looks beautiful without any makeup at all.

“Jack?” Nora prompts. “Did you hear me? How do I look?”

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