Nora and the Mermaid |ONC 2021|

Chapter Four (Revised)

Aiming for the Moon

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Nora tugged at the neck of her tank, unsticking it from her skin, as she sat on her windowsill, knees pulled into her chest, watching the world burn under the harsh oranges of sunset. Laffery, a fat Tom from the neighborhood, snuggled up against her bare ankles, his nose pressed into the paper plate at Nora's feet as he finished the remains of her third pizza slice.

Laffery wasn't hers per se, but the reverse was also untrue. A month after moving here, Nora'd made the mistake of leaving her window open to rid the apartment of its mold smell. It hadn't taken long for the grey tabby to slink his way into her apartment and go straight for the butter she'd left on the kitchen counter.

Mamie Jean had said cats would lick your butter, but Nora'd thought it'd been a southern saying, nothing more. A relic from a past that no longer applied and Laffery had proved her wrong.

Certain the fat cat wouldn't mind the grease on her fingers, Nora reached down and scratched him between his ears. His right ear had been badly scarred, a chunk taken out of it during a scuffle with a mean ginger cat who ruled the roost two blocks down.

"You've seen things," she said to him, her words slightly slurred from one too many sips of red wine. The cat kept his eyes close, his head lowered onto his paws as she continued to scratch. "What would you do, Laffs? Take the job with the strange, smiley angel or keep looking for something slightly less off-putting?" Laffery peeled open an eye and looked at her with an annoyed flicker in his gaze.

Nora ignored him and eyed her laptop, shoved away in the corner of the breakfast table she'd never used for breakfast or meals period. The laptop screen blinked the ten digits of Lore's cell. Beside it littered Mr. Archer's proposal, each page spread over the table. Nora'd thumbed through them repeatedly throughout the day. She'd read every paragraph twice. Searched between the lines for the one sentence that would confirm what she believed - that it was all too good to be true. She'd given up in the afternoon and had switched from worrier to wine drinker and cat subordinate. Both the latter suiting her better.

"You'd fight head-on," she mused as the cat dipped his head between his legs to clean himself. "You'd get the contract checked out and if it was on the up and up, you'd go for it. You'd reach for your moon."

With a resigned sigh, Nora placed Laffery on the floor, unstuck herself from her windowsill, grabbed the laptop, and plopped onto her couch. With her legs extended over the side, she brought up video chat and dialed Lore's number.

It only took one ring before a face appeared on the screen. Brown eyes set in a round face, relieved to see Nora. A tight smile, a sign of her frustration. Nora pretended not to read what was written between each of Lore's wrinkles. Why haven't you called since you moved? We were worried about you; I was worried. We're not as close as we used to be, why's that, Nor? What have I done wrong?

A whine cut through the laptop's speakers, breaking the stifling silence as Nora struggled to find the right thing to say next.

"Prince says hi." Lore slipped a dirtied rag off her shoulder and picked up a baby bottle from the table in front of her. She was in her kitchen, an expansive one, bought with the sweet lawyer money both she and her husband raked in.

It was easily double the size of Nora's apartment. And it probably smelled better too, like roast lamb and beurre blanc sauce. Chocolate souffles drizzled with whiskey bourbon sauce. An open bottle of Chardonnay sat on the kitchen island, a kid's cup decorated with cartoon lions half-full. Mauve lipstick stained the rim.