model call || h.s

73.

Friday, December 16th 2022 — Harry

The Brooklyn warehouse party was thumping, like, quite literally, thumping. The walls vibrated from the music's bass and every floor was crowded with people. It was the kind of party you read about, you know, where someone usually dies of a drug overdose or alcohol poisoning. I wasn't happy to be here. I wasn't having fun. Someone grabbed my forearm and pulled me around. It was Ondine, and all I knew was that I was happy to see her. At some point, I'd lost Nora and all of her friends, so after about twenty minutes of searching, I finally found one of them. Rather, she found me.

"Jesus, I've been looking everywhere for you! Where's Nora?" I shouted. She pulled me with her and we started bobbing in and out of the drunken bodies. Up one flight of stairs, in the corner of the third floor, their group was standing around and Nora was yelling at Dylan. She was drunk and she was crying and she looked absolutely furious. Dylan looked ashamed, that was the only word I could think of to describe his entire state. Shameful. I passed Ondine, making a beeline for my wife, who seemed to be seconds away from clocking her ex. "Nora, Nora—hey!" I grabbed her body, wrapping my arms tightly around her and pulling her away from Dylan. "What happened?" I ask whoever is around me and willing to answer. No one does.

"Why Dylan? Fucking why?!" He just stares at her, refusing to make eye contact with me. Suddenly, she shakes me off and stomps away. Obviously, I follow her out, but it's not until we're standing on the freezing sidewalk that she fills me in. She's furious.

"Nora!" I shout again.

"He kissed me! We were fucking having fun, and he kissed me!" I think I knew, deep down, that this is what happened. "Then he told me...never mind—fucking forget it."

"What did he tell you?" She shakes her head and I step forward, holding her face in my hands. "What did he say?"

"That he still loves me." How could I blame him? It was Nora. She was incredible, and he had history with her. If I were him, I'd probably still love her as well. But kissing her, that wasn't something I understood, nor was I okay with it. I nod before pressing my lips to her forehead.

"Okay." I say, "Okay. Let's go home. You're drunk, let's go home." As we walk, her hand slips into mine.

"I'm so angry at him. He...he kissed me."

"Do you have feelings for him in any way, Nora?" She stops and her fingers curl around my jacket.

"It's only you. I promise, it's only ever been you." I kiss her.

"Then...let's forget it happened. Let's go home. It's over, okay? It's over, baby."

"Harry, man...where's your head at?" Jeff Azoff asks me as we eat lunch in his apartment. I'd completely zoned out as he cooked up a couple of paninis.

"Nothing, mate."

"Bull....shit." He eyes me. Jeff was someone I'd become unbelievably close with, and he knew me very, very well. I shake my head.

"This teacher that Nora works with."

"He, she?"

"He."

"Uh-oh..."

"He's just...dunno, I've got a bad feeling about him, Jeff."

"Okay, what kind of bad feeling?"

"He's a nice-looking guy...they work together—he's third grade as well..."

"That doesn't sound like too much to go off of, Harry."