Before the Morning [BEING EDITED]

21 | Frowny

Usually, Nora found the railroad tracks oddly comforting. Today, however, they were a distraction.

Nolan had finally stopped his discreet searches for hints of dismay, and she'd actually come close to convincing herself she was over it. So, her dad got drunk, screamed in her face, and broke her guitar. It was just because the anniversary was coming up in August. It hurt, yes, but she was fine.

She. Was. Fine.

Except, no matter how many times she repeated the notion, replaying it over and over in her head, all it would take was the sensation of her comforter being ripped off her body to send her reeling again. She'd be trapped in that moment, her dad's breath in her face, her guitar slamming into the wall. Pieces scattering across her floor.

The railroad tracks were just making everything worse. But where else was she supposed to go?

She desperately tried to distract herself with plans for next week's Sunday school lesson, but she could barely get a word into her notebook. Her fingers shook, her usually neat handwriting nearly illegible. Her leg bounced up, down, up, down, and no amount of deep breathing could stop her jitters.

She slapped her notebook shut and let out a deep, frustrated breath. Please. She squinted up at the sky, more connected to God through the scattered clouds than through the darkness of closed eyes. Please, help me find peace.

A few moments passed, and she was still shaky. Her stomach hurt.

Dammit.

Church. She just had to ride this out until church. There, she'd be home, and she'd have her friends. And Nolan.

The soft ding! of a text notification tore Nora from her reverie, and with a steady hand, she snatched her phone from the depths of her bag. A text from Willow greeted her.

Helloooo? We're here! Where are you?

"Crap!"

Sorry! Autocorrect, usually an enemy, was now another one of her best friends as her thumbs tore across the touchpad. I went for a walk. On my way.

She shoved her phone back into her bag and yanked the drawstrings shut. How could she have forgotten that she agreed to go to church early today? Nathan had to get there extra early for a meeting, and Willow didn't want to be stuck there by herself. So, she'd asked Nora if she wanted to tag along, Nora had said yes.

Crap, crap, crap, crap.

She sprinted down the road. For years, she'd managed to hide her ventures to this place. Having her friends know that she came here—and as often as she did—would only lead to unwanted questions. Now, because a change of plan had slipped her mind, Willow would see her bag and wonder, even if only distantly, why she would need that for a walk. Nora would give a perfectly constructed excuse if asked, and Willow would accept the words as true, but the question would still be there, in the background, for when Nora slipped up again.

Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe not. But the damage was done: she was more distressed than ever.

✝

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Nora looked away from her songbook, at Willow, who was sprawled across from her on the library's floor, flipping through a Young Adult fiction book from one of the shelves.

"Yeah," Nora said.

Willow narrowed her eyes, skeptical.

"Seriously, dude, I'm fine." She was actually pretty convincing.