Is everything … okay? Bren asks.
Why did you have to say that, Nora says, rounding on him, and Bren doesn’t ask what she means. He must’ve overheard their row, or assumed that Robin would have shared what he’d said; known there’s no point denying it.
In my defence, Bren says, he started in onme.
He did not startinon you, Nora says. Robin isn’t like that.
She picks up her wine, doesn’t drink it, as Bren says, right, okay. He seemed pretty riled up to me, but –
Please don’t, Bren, she says. I can’t do this.
And before he can reply, she steams on, reaches for something that would make sense; something she thinks he’ll understand. Something she, too, can make sense of.
I don’t have many people I can count on, in my life, okay? But what I do have is the both ofyou. When it suits you.
Bren tilts his head. His St Christopher watching her, like a third eye.
You’re my two favourite people, Nora says, unable to keepthe emotion out of her voice. But ever since you got back, you’re making me feel like I have to … choose.
Stillness, in the kitchen. The wind, outside, finally dying down.
You really think that, Bren says, in a low voice. And she says after the way they talked to each other, in there? Yes. But he says no, not that.
You think I’m only in your life … when it suits me?
Nora says nothing. Drinks her wine.
It’s true then, he says. What Robin said? That I make you feel worthless?
Unworthy, Nora reasons, and she’s already apologetic, hating the shutters that’ll come down, how he’ll retreat from her, now she’s confirmed it. But I was angry with you when I said that, she says. It was before we knew about the phone call.
Tannins, from the wine, on her tongue.
But I did make you feel that way? Bren asks.
And Nora looks at him, standing there in Robin’s too-large clothes. At the pendant she bought him, the patron saint of travel, but also protection. And she wants to say yes, but he also said you light me up, remember. But she stays quiet, because sharing such a thing won’t do anything good, for anyone.
I never … intended to do that, Bren says.
AndIdidn’t intend for Robin to share that with you, Nora says. I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s got into him. I’m a big girl, Bren. I don’t need him … managing my relationship with you.
Relationship, Bren echoes, and she says yes. He nods, seems sad, but she doesn’t know what he wants from her; there is no definition for what he is, what they have, and he must know that. Outside, the gutters, newly cleaned, drip rainwater onto the ground.
I think I should go, Bren says. The storm’s eased up, a bit.
Yeah, Nora says.
They stand there for one more moment and then she follows him to the front door; refuses his offer to return Robin’s clothes; he can keep them, okay, thanks, of course.
I’m sorry for … whatever happened here, he says, once he’s stepped outside. Me too, she is going to say, but he turns to her before she can, saying for the record, Nora? You weren’t someone I checked in with when itsuited me, or just when I wanted to.
He is standing where he did four weeks before, when she first saw him at her party.
It’s fine, she says. Really.
No, Nora, he says, just let me say this. Because Iwantedto reach out every day. I thought about you all the time, if I let myself. So I got really good atnotletting myself. Trying to detach from … everything, back home.
Nora is aware that this is important, what he’s saying. Aware, also, that Robin is only metres away, behind their bedroom door.
