“I do those things for Rebel because of what?” I ask.
Patty looks around. “We shouldn’t have butted in.”
I almost laugh out loud. It’s not as if that has ever stopped anyone before, especially these two.
“She means that we know you do all these things for us because you feel grateful for how everyone has always helped you and your family out, and how you consider us family and that you’re taking care of us,” Muriel says. She scoops a bite of grits into her mouth.
Well…
She’s not wrong.
I do feel grateful. I do consider the things I do helpful to the community.
“Is that so bad?” I ask, my stomach twisting and my heart pounding in my ears.
“Of course not,” Patty says.
“It is if it keeps you stuck here,” Muriel says at the same time.
They frown at each other.
“I don’t feel stuck here,” I protest.
Muriel points her fork at me. “Bullshit.”
My eyes widen. I look at my friends. No one is jumping in to tell Muriel she’s wrong.
I look back at the older woman. “I don’t. I love it here.”
“But you feel like you can’t leave. You think we need you.”
I feel a sharp pang as my heart clenches. “You…don’t?” I ask.
She shakes her head, either unaware that she’s hurting me, or not caring. “Of course not.” But then she says, “We don’t love you because of the things you do for us, Nora. We love the things you do for us, because we love you.”
I stare at her.
The words seem to hang in the air.
No one says anything for several ticks.
Then Patty says, “She’s right. We love all of you, because of you. What you do for our community is, we hope, your expression of how you feel about us. Not payback.”
I press my lips together and nod. I swallow. “Of course it’s because of how I feel about you. I love setting up activities and things that bring us all together and make Rebel more friendly and happy.”
Muriel nods. “Good. But you can love us and be loved by us in Portland. You feel like you have tostayhere because you think you have to pay us back.” She looks up from her plate. “And you don’t.”
I feel a weird twist of emotions go from my chest to my stomach.
“We want you to be happy just like you want us to be happy,” Muriel says. “If you’re here when we know that you’d be happy with that boy in Portland, we won’t be as happy either.”
I feel a stinging at the back of my eyes. Finally, I say something I’ve never said out loud, not even to my friends, and certainly not to my family. But right now, in this moment, I’m going to say it to the whole bar.
“If I leave, you’ll be mad at me.”
Muriel stops with her fork just in front of her mouth. She looks at me, then sets it down. Patty frowns. I feel my friends shift, leaning in closer to me.
“What are you talking about?” Muriel asks.
