Chapter 42

This was the third time Nora had been to Rob Roy since she'd stood on the beach at Surfside. She thought of the cold wind, the endless, deep horizon. She thought of the anxiety that had made it so difficult to breathe. It was not unlike the anxiety she'd felt for so many years in this very house.

She got out of her car, tossed her key fob to the valet, squared her shoulders, and walked into the house.

A usual assembly of Important People had come. Cynthia and Drew, of course. Saritha and Raghu Kumar—Raghu was a brilliant tech wizard who everyone said would take over Google one day. Also in attendance was Trystan, whom she'd met at the last dinner. He shared a whispered joke with her mother when he spotted Nora. Allison and Jason Bunch had come—Allison was the managing editor at the Austin American-Statesman. Lacey, of course. And a couple of other people she didn't recognize and didn't care to know.

One of the servers tried in vain to get Nora to take a glass of wine, but she refused. She skirted around the perimeter of the room, a low hum of anxiety buzzing through her, that terrible feeling of waiting for a hammer to drop—only this time she wanted to be the one to drop it.

She said hello to the Bunches. Allison said she understood they'd just come from the theater, and she was so happy to hear that Nora was getting back into the swing of things again.

Mrs.Kumar said Nora looked almost too trim; what was her secret?

"My secret is not caring," Nora said with a smile.

Trystan asked how she'd been. "Your mom said you were taking a short leave of absence from work."

Nora laughed. "I'm not on leave. I quit."

"Oh." He looked at her strangely. "I must have misunderstood."

"I've no doubt you understood perfectly whatever she said."

"Yeah," he said and moved on.

Lacey told her she really liked Josiah. "Thanks, Nora," she said. "I really didn't think..." She shrugged sheepishly.

"I know," Nora said. Earning Lacey's trust would be a slow build, but she was off on the right foot. "It was pure luck that I found him."

"He even worked with my insurance company to get more out of them. Oh, and those cupcakes you made? So good."

Nora beamed. She couldn't cook, but it turned out that she could bake.

When the guests were seated in the dining room, Mr.Kumar asked what show they'd had the pleasure of seeing this afternoon.

Her dad smirked. "It wasn't meant to be a comedy, but that's what we got."

The buzz in Nora zigged and zagged. It was such a callous thing to say given how hard those senior citizens had worked. "It was A Streetcar Named Desire," she heard herself say, and rather loudly at that. "The musical."

"One of my favorite Tennessee Williams plays," Mr.Kumar said. "I've never seen it produced as a musical."

"First time," Lacey said. "The performers were mostly senior citizens. I thought it was delightful."

David November chuckled. "And here I'd hoped I'd given my daughters a better appreciation of theater."

The guests tittered politely.

"The cast live on fixed incomes on the same lot as the theater," Nora said. "It's the Triangle Theater. Maybe you know it? Catherine Henry is the owner. She's trying to save it from being torn down."

"Catherine Henry? From Esther's Follies?" Mrs.Kumar asked. "Years ago, Raghu and I used to attend quite often."

"That's a pity about the theater," Cynthia said. "Unfortunately, that sort of thing happens a lot."

"You could make a donation to help them save it," Nora suggested.

"Nora!"Her mother gave a strangled laugh. "I'm so sorry, everyone."

"I'm serious, Mom," Nora said. "They've gotten behind in taxes and staged the show to raise money to pay them. But the person who holds the deed wants to kick them out so he can build luxury apartments. You all know him—Brad Sachs."

"Don't feel too sorry for them," Nora's dad said. "That building is so run-down that Brad's doing them a favor."

Raw anger was growing wildly in her—the bees in her chest could swarm an army. "I don't know, Dad—he won't return my calls. But I think Mr.Sachs could show a little compassion for the seniors in this case." She looked at him. "And so could you."

Everything went perfectly still. Nothing moved—not a server, not a guest, not a wisp of air. Then gazes began to fly between father and daughter. Dad's displeasure burned in his eyes, and he was so intent on Nora that he didn't acknowledge the waiter as he put a Caesar salad before him.

Identical to the one someone put before her. No variety, soggy with dressing, no life.How had she lived like this for so long?

"What do you suggest, Nora? That we pass a hat?"

"Do you think that would work?"

The tension was thick enough to strangle the air from the room. The guests began to shift uncomfortably in their seats. Welcome, everyone, to the life I lived in the Before!

Dad smiled thinly. "You must all excuse my daughter. Unfortunately, she's a little soft when it comes to bad-luck tales."

Nora's mother put down her fork. "That's enough family talk, please. Our guests don't want to hear our dirty laundry."

But they did want to hear it. And oh, was it dirty.

"Speaking of family, we haven't seen your nephew in a while, Roberta," Cynthia said.

"He's been busy," her mother said quickly.

A lifetime of grievances and regrets and secrets was frothing like a stormy sea in Nora. Gus had struggled with his demons, but he was not the blight on an otherwise perfect November family. They said horrible things about him... and yet they never acknowledged that there were even bigger blights on the family sitting in plain sight. A dodgy legal practice. Possible extramarital affairs. A genuflection at the throne of appearances. A palpable wish that their daughters were different from who they were. And from at least one member, an unspoken but clearly conveyed desire that Nora had died instead of Nathan. How hard would it have been to be grateful that one twin lived?

She was sick of pretending that all was well in the November snow globe. She wanted to live an authentic life. Her life. Not theirs. "Actually, Mom, Gus is at a drug and alcohol treatment facility."

Her mother's fork clanked against her plate. "Pardon?" She laughed. "Nora, stop teasing us. Anyway, I applaud your desire to help the seniors," she blathered, desperate to pull this conversation back from the brink. "Why don't you use some of the settlement you'll get from the suit against the resort to help them?"

And just like that, Nora's buzz turned to unfiltered rage. She looked down at her predictably boring salad, and that last hard nub of compliance shattered. Her utter rebellion came from a place so deep that it very nearly launched her from her seat. She didn't care if she failed at everything on her reverse bucket list, if she was forced to live in her car—failure was more palatable than this life.

She shoved the salad away from her. Some of the lettuce spilled onto the tablecloth. "Because I won't accept a dime of any settlement from the resort."

"Nora, sweetie, calm down," her father said, like she was a petulant child who needed to be put to bed. "It will help to pay your substantial medical expenses. Comas and rehabilitation don't come cheap, so let's not be foolish."

And that tipped her right over the edge. "Talk about dirty laundry," Nora said and looked around the table at the uncomfortable guests. No one was eating and all eyes were down, as if they couldn't bear to witness this. Lacey was ashen.

"Dad's right. My medical bills are insanely high. But my family knows that my accidentwas not the fault of the resort."

Her mother surged to her feet. "Nora? May I have a word with you in the kitchen?"

"No, Mom." She was having the moment that she hadn't known she needed but that was suddenly crystal clear to her—her brain had laid it all out for her to see, her memory of what had happened on that beach finally and fully realized. She thought of the envelope and note she'd tossed in the trash. The one her parents had never mentioned. They all had to have seen it, including Lacey.

"You know, I've been trying to remember exactly what happened that day on the beach, and today, I did. I remember that the resort took me exactly where I wanted to go."

"Nora, please." Her mother's voice was full of terror.

"The so-called accident was literally my fault. I didn't surf. I didn't even attempt it. But what I did do was try to end my life."

The moment Nora said those words aloud, the buzz went out of her in a whoosh. Deliverance came by putting words to an event that had taken her weeks to fully remember. But one her family had known about all along.

She looked around the room, at all the faces staring at her with various expressions of concern and alarm. "That's the truth that my parents don't want you to know. I tried to kill myself and I botched it. Can you imagine? I actually drowned... but then I lived!" She wanted to laugh at the sheer irony of it.

"Nora, go lie down," her father commanded her. "We know you've been through a lot, but you're not remembering things clearly."

"I was there, Dad. I remember it quite clearly now. You're so ashamed that you'd rather lie about it and let someone else pay for it. Now who's soft?"

The room filled with stunned silence. Her mother looked shell-shocked as she slowly sank into her chair. Her father, on the other hand, looked as if he was working to keep from exploding. He leaned back in his seat, picked up his wineglass and drank, then calmly put it aside. "Are you taking your medicine, sweetie?" her father asked.

How slick of him, to imply she was not taking her medicine and was therefore crazy. "Every day, Dad." She looked around the table. "My struggle with depression didn't fit in with the November narrative. My parents have often advised me that I could snap out of it if only I tried. I did try, but now I understand I didn't try in the right ways. I'm not ashamed of it anymore. I'm proud of who I've become since I tried to kill myself. I'm proudof me for surviving. The only thing I'm struggling with now is the question of how or why I put up with this charade for as long as I did." She looked at her father. "Dad, I can't be the person you want me to be. I need you to know that I really miss Nathan too. But I need to be true to myself for once in my life."

"Well, Nora, if this is how you feel after all I've done for you, after giving you an impeccable education and a seat at the table of one of the most powerful law firms in the city, then maybe you would be happier in another profession."

He rose out of his seat and braced his hands against the table. "But I won't help you," he added through gritted teeth. "I am donehelping you. If this is the gratitude I get, this embarrassing and childish effort to force my hand for whatever it is you're after, you best know I will not budge."

It was astounding to Nora that in this moment, her father still would not acknowledge that she had tried to commit suicide. He was still trying to make this sound like it was a simple argument between them instead of recognizing that she'd been so unhappy she hadn't wanted to live another minute.

Except, as Catherine once said, she did want to live. She just hadn't known how.

Well, she had a pretty good idea of how to now. She'd just burned her Before to the ground, and her After stretched before her, yellow-brick-road style. She was setting out on a new adventure. She had new interests, new friends, and hopefully a new purpose. And none of that was here in Rob Roy.

Also, she was late to a party.

"I don't lack gratitude, Dad. If I haven't said it enough, I'll say it again—thank you for everything you've done for me. But this is my season now."

She turned to Lacey. "I'll call you." She stood up and stepped away from the table. "Good night, everyone."

"Nora," her mother called after her.

But it was too late. Nora had left the moment she'd walked into the ocean.