Chapter 43

Nora could hear the laughter and music drifting out of the last apartment to the right of the run-down apartment building. When she reached the door with the big cardboard star that had Blanche DuBois written across it, she knocked. And then a little louder to be heard over the voices inside. A moment later, the door swung open. Catherine stood there in a silk caftan. The bun of her hair looked like it was sliding off one side of her head. She held a martini glass in her hand and had a glassy-eyed look about her. "Look who it is," she crowed when her eyes focused on Nora. "Plot Nine!"

Strange, but Nora smiled. "You said to come by if I could."

"I did indeed. Annabeth! Annabeth, come here! Look who it is!" Catherine shouted over the din.

Annabeth, with pink cheeks and bright eyes, pushed through the small crowd. "Who?"

"Plot Nine, darling. She's here."

Catherine and Annabeth looked at each other, then burst into laughter. "I thought he was drunk and imagining the whole thing," Annabeth crowed.

"Who?" Nora asked.

"Come in, love," Catherine said, sloshing a little of her martini onto the carpet. "We've been talking about you and your man. He's here!"

"What man?" Nora asked, confused as to what these delightfully drunk ladies were talking about.

"Jack." Catherine said it like Nora knew who she was talking about. "Or, I should say, our Jack. Whether or not he was ever in a corner store remains up for debate."

Nora's heart began to beat. "What are you talking about?"

"The corner store," Annabeth cried, as if Nora was being willfully ignorant.

And then he appeared. He was just standing there, a martini glass in his hand, looking as stunned as Nora felt.

Nora's breath froze in her throat. Her entire body felt made of lead, and her head was doing a dizzying spin, but this was Jack. Here.It was impossible. There was no conceivable way he could be here, standing before her, after all these months.

"Your hair is shorter," he said.

Nora looked around her—at the apartment filled with people. She was too scared to believe this was real, but... it was real."Oh my God." Oh myGod! Jack? "How..."

"Wait a minute," Catherine said. "Jack really is the guy?"

Jack did not take his eyes from Nora. "That's what I was trying to tell you. I'm the guy. And she's Plot Nine? With the sad tomatoes and giant cucumbers?"

Nora gasped. "How do you know that?"

"Nora... I'm Plot Seven." He laughed suddenly, and Nora felt like she was floating above them all, drifting off into space.

"That's impossible."

"I planted the dahlia tubers you left me."

She pressed her hands to her cheeks. "How can this be real? You know Catherine? You're Plot Seven? I thought it was an old guy."

"Yeah," he said with a soft laugh. "This is real."

Grandpa. He'd done this. He'd brought her to Jack. She suddenly surged forward, her eyes glistening with elation, and caught his hand. "I'm so sorry. Oh my God, I've missed you so much, Jack. It felt like I'd lost my best friend, which I know is crazy, because I'd only just met you."

"This is like a movie!" Catherine crowed. "Are you all hearing this? Jack's the corner store guy!"

"What?" Jerry shouted.

"We need a minute," Nora said pleadingly to Catherine.

"The theater," Catherine said grandly. "The place where all great love stories are told. Jerry, I need a refill!"

"But I want to hear this," Annabeth complained.

Nora grabbed Jack's hand before anyone could talk their way into accompanying them and tugged him through the open door and down the stairs. She kept turning around to look at him, unable to fully absorb he was here. He looked just as confused. So many thoughts raced through her head. If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up.

But first, she had a lot of explaining to do.

The lights were still on in the auditorium, and they sat on the edge of the stage, facing each other. "I can't believe this," she said, her gaze moving over his face. "I can't believe you were right in front of me all along. This is going to sound insane, but I'm pretty sure my grandpa did this. He's dead, but... Wait. I'm getting ahead of myself." She took a breath. Slow down.

"This is what I remember," Jack said. "This sort of off-kilter conversation. Delightful, but so different from anything I've experienced."

Nora's heart soared. This was the moment she'd dreamed of.

"I have to apologize," he said. "I am so sorry, but I lost your number. You wrote it on that bit of paper, but that night was so crazy, and somehow I lost it. But I thought we had this connection and waited for you to call me. And... you never did." He gripped her hand in his, his fingers wrapping around hers. His eyes were the warm blue she remembered. "Was it because I didn't call you? Did you think I'd ghosted you? Or maybe... maybe you didn't feel the attraction between us that night?"

"Oh, I swear I've never felt attraction like that before. Or since," she gushed. Too much? But she was afraid that if she didn't say everything on her heart, he'd disappear again. Sometimes you got another chance at life and maybe love and you had to take a big swing for the fences.

"Then why didn't you call?" he asked. "Did you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Second thoughts?"

"No, no, nothing like that." She was trembling. She could feel the weight of the next few moments. Either he'd forgive her or he wouldn't, but she had to go for it. "I wanted to. I left that store on cloud nine. I hadn't been that happy in months. But I'm not going to make up some funny story about why I didn't call."

"Okay," he said uncertainly.

"The thing is, I... I was on my way into a deep hole of depression at the time. Like, clinical depression."

"Oh?" He sounded more uncertain.

She feared she would blow this like everything else, but he needed to know the truth. She couldn't hide from who she was for anyone else ever again. This was the real Nora. She suffered from depression; she was sometimes funny, sometimes sad. But she wanted love. She wanted life. A real life, of her own making, with love and acceptance and cupcakes and basketball and whatever else made her happy.

"I... I sort of spiraled after that night. I was already starting to spiral, really, and then that happened, and the way I felt about you was so real and intense, and I... I convinced myself that I didn't deserve you. That it couldn't have been real." She rubbed her forehead. "It went downhill from there. I got worse. I had your number on my hand, but I felt unworthy, and I washed it off. Eventually I couldn't work, and I couldn't eat properly, and then... It's a long story, but..." She met his gaze. "I tried to kill myself."

Jack's eyes widened with surprise. He pressed his lips together like he was trying to keep from speaking.

Her eyes began to fill with tears. "By drowning, of all things, which statistics will tell you does not have a high success rate. But I did it. I drowned myself. I was technically dead for several minutes until someone pulled me out, and they brought me back to life and when they did..." She paused and drew a breath. She realized her hand was trembling in his. "This is so crazy pants, right? The point is, I'm not suicidal now. I had a near-death experience, and it had a profound impact on me in so many ways, and I've had some excellent therapy, and I'm on new antidepressants, and I've made some significant changes in my life. I'm good, Jack. I don't mean cured; I don't know if I will ever be free of it—but I'm better than I've been in years."

"Wow," Jack said quietly. "That's a lot to take in." He looked down at their hands. He had not let hers go.

"So...," Nora said shakily, "I don't know if you're single or—"

"Single," he said. "You?"

"So single. Obviously." She smiled a little. "I don't know if love at first sight is really a thing or if I've read too many rom-coms, but I would love to have dinner sometime and talk, if you're okay with that. And if this sounds like the most absurd thing in the world and you're seeing red flags everywhere, I get it—talking about death and dying is not what normal people do." She wrapped her other hand around his. "I'm just so grateful that I found you and at least have the chance to tell you I'm so sorry I didn't call, and that you really mattered to me, and you still do, and you always will, and I really do think you could be the one. Apparently I think that even when I'm dead."

"This is really so unbelievable," Jack said. Nora's smile began to fade. "You nearly died?"

"I'm sorry about all the death stuff," she said. "You probably thought Darth Vader was the strangest part of our story."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Yep, it's definitely you—funny, bizarrely interesting, weirdly enchanting Nora. So the first thing you need to know about me is that I happen to be super familiar with death. When we have dinner, I'll tell you about it. But, Nora..." He leaned forward, his gaze locking with hers. "That has to be tonight. Because I'm not losing that chance again."

In her head, the heavens opened to the rich, creamy light of a celestial garden. Something settled over her, like peace, or tranquility, or just the full force of optimism. "Really?" She bent over their clasped hands. "One sec—I may need to hyperventilate a little." She straightened up again. "I can't believe you were where I was the whole time. It's a miracle. Oh my God, I have so much to tell you."

"And I want to hear every word. But first—put your number in my phone."