Nora and her mother rarely talked on the phone. Most of their conversations were done via texting. But her day always started and ended with a good morning and a good night from her mother.
When they did, however, find a moment for a quick chat, that moment usually turned into a three-hour conversation.
"Well, he sounds like a really wonderful boy Nora," her mum chimed in her demure, soft voice.
"Haven't I just been telling you what an idiot he is half the time?"
"Yes, well, you say it with love. I've never heard you speak so passionately about someone. You obviously care for him, and you've done well to help him."
"I guess," Nora mumbled, her cheeks heating up. "So tell me what I can borrow from your stuff, please."
Nora's mum always had impeccable, classy style. While they were still together, Nora's father had showered her mum, Ayame, with designer bags, clothes, and jewellery. Once her mum left London, she sold most of her possessions but kept a handful of things she couldn't let go of in her grandmother's house.
Nora opened the long, multiple-shelved closet of the guest bedroom that was on the third floor that also doubled as a storage room. Nora looked over the sumptuous array of designer bags in different shapes and sizes. Smart, beautifully cut suit sets and dresses hung in a neat row, some of them protected by their designer covers.
"Honey, take whatever you need , just wear it carefully; and remember it's expensive, but then, you know that. And make sure to wrap up warm, please."
"Sure," Nora said, taking out an outfit, scanning it and putting it back in the closet.
Admittedly she felt a little rusty picking out an outfit. Magazines used to be stacked near her bedside table and she'd followed all the latest influencer accounts. Not because she genuinely liked it, but because her flaky friends did. Now that she had deleted her social media profiles and couldn't give a shit about what she wore as long as it was clean and comfortable, her mind drew a blank on outfit planning.
"Oh I have some fur-lined shoes. You must keep your feet warm Nora-chan," her mum said.
Nora was glad she wasn't face-timing so she could grimace at her mum's suggestion all she wanted.
Nope, Nora thought to herself. It would be stuffy and hot in the club. Not to mention the alcohol added extra warmth as it dilated the blood vessels, and she definitely would need a drink for Dutch courage. Socialising had become a chore for Nora.
"What about that red pencil skirt? From Prada?"
"My bum doesn't fit into it, mum." Nora needed to start thinking seriously about sports or cutting down on madeleines and croissants. The eating disorder was always like a dark shadow lingering in the back of her mind, leaving a trace of the calorie counting and self- loathing. Nora was not going back to that. But she also didn't want to have to buy new clothes because the old ones didn't fit.
Nora noticed her mum had gone quiet at the mention of sizes. She realised her mother had never known how to help Nora with her relationship with food and weight. Ayame was naturally skinny and slim and enjoyed a Japanese diet of raw fish and vegetables. She was too scared to comment any more on Nora's appetite or shape and size. It was what her mother did best, avoid problems or pretend they didn't exist, not because of her arrogance but because of immaturity. It took Nora a while to figure it out, but once she did, it was easier to forgive both of her parents for their weaknesses.
On her first attempt, she settled on her own grey suede skirt, and a peach-coloured top and borrowed her mum's expensive blazer to match the colour of the skirt. She went on to do her makeup and brush through her hair when, halfway through, she realised her outfit was looking less like a night in a bar and more like an interview at a corporate establishment. She could already hear Rafe's teasing.
In a way, her meeting Rafe's brother was already a form of an informal interview, but she had to pick something more appropriate for the night.
She went for her ancient French Connection dress, and because she had gained some height and a bit of weight, the dress clung too tightly to her body and didn't zip at the back.
Nora saw an encased sausage instead of a sexy girl. She glared at herself in the mirror, hating herself for what she'd done to her body. The dress could fit a child. It brought back memories of how painfully skinny she had been three years ago and how much depression and anxiety brought her to watch her weight so she could fit into a size 0. She made a note to herself to donate the dress. Or burn it.
She ripped it off and threw it in the corner along with a couple of other pieces of her old stuff.
She went for another risqué dress that her mum had bought in Las Vegas. Her grandmother came in, saw the outfit and blew out a whistle.
"Honey, is the birthday taking place at a brothel?"
Nora sighed in defeat and began unzipping the dress. "Close. It's in a nightclub bar type of venue. Trust me, and this is what girls in my school used to wear every other day."
"What's the fuss? I've never seen you make such a big deal before. I do love your hair and makeup. I haven't seen you so dolled up in a while."
"Rafe's brother will be there. I need to make a good impression. I will apply for an internship this summer."
"Are you planning on sleeping with him?"
"Grandma, no!" Nora hissed, freeing herself of the tight dress. Her grandma chuckled, pleased with herself for getting a reaction out of her.
"Well then, honey, you don't need to pimp yourself out. They'll give you a job no matter what."
"I'm not pimping myself out! I justâI want to look good. You know, it's a birthday after all," she said, her heart fluttering at the thought of Rafe and all his London friends being there. Dressing up for Rafe and his friends brought back memories of her London life and the feeling was bittersweet. On one hand, it wasn't who she was anymore and she shouldn't have made such a fuss getting dressed up. She could've just gone for jeans and a shirt and be done with it. But somewhere along the way she had forgotten how good it was to get her hair done and how pronounced her eyes could be when underlined with a pencil and eyeshadow.
"I was only teasing, sweetheart. You wear whatever you want, and you wear it with confidence. I don't care if you go naked as long as you love yourself, your body, and who you are."
"Thanks, Grandma," Nora murmured, meeting her eyes in the reflection of the closet mirror.
After half an hour of debating with her grandmother and her mother on the phone, Nora settled for a knee-length, black Roland Mouret dress that exposed her back. Her long black hair that she curled was already losing its body because her hair was so thick and straight, but it still had a nice bounce to it. The makeup made her eyes pop and kept her lips neutral but glossy.
"Well, I look like a St. Claire's girl again. But with more body."
"No," said her grandmother, adjusting her necklace. "You are so much more than that. I see someone who has grown, who relentlessly works on herself, is fixing her past mistakes and deserves to have some damn good time."
Nora felt awkward when her grandmother praised her. She wasn't sure how to accept the moments of love she gave. "Are you on your third glass, Grandma?" she asked, trying to swallow the lump of emotion in her throat.
"I wish! We're out of wine, and it'll do me good to detox for a while once I'm done with this one."
The doorbell rang, and her grandmother went down to open the door.
Throwing on a long black coat, settling into her heels, and grabbing her bag and Rafe's present, Nora went downstairs. Benny's eyes went as wide as saucers.
"Oh my god."
"Ta da," she said sheepishly. "What? Is it too much?" she asked as Benny stared at her without blinking.
"You look gorgeous!" he spluttered as he came to his senses. "You look amazingâexcuse me, is that a Chanel bag?"
"It's mum's; I'm borrowing it for tonight," she replied, rotating the tweed bag to show all the angles.
"I'm borrowing it after you," he said. "Did you raid your mum's entire closet? What's this dress?" Benny circled around her like an art critic. After Benny got his fill of checking out each seam and stitch on the dress and the bag and inspected the fashion jewellery, they poured themselves some ciders for pre-drinks.
"Aren't you two late for the party? You were supposed to be there an hour ago," her grandmother said.
"No, Gran, we will show up when the party is in full swing. People by now are having a few drinks and breaking the ice. Benny and I will arrive when the fun is just starting."
"Sheesh, I'd be the first one there lighting up the party," her grandma said with a shake of her hips, heading over to her favourite armchair and switching on the TV. "Finally, the next round of the X Factor."
Nora caught Benny's admiring gaze and slumped her shoulders slightly.
"Seriously, do you think it's too much? I want to make an impression on Rafe's brother, but I don't want to look like I'm trying too hard."
"I'll be honest with you, you will give quite a few people a shock tonight. But the good kind of shock," he said with a grin.
"Okay, good," she said.
"Rafe is going to be super duper impressed tonight," Benny said, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Nothing is going on between us," Nora said.
"You think his brother is as hot as Rafe?"
"I imagine so," Nora said.
"You think you and Rafe will make out tonight? You two have so much sexual tension I could cut it with a knife," Benny said, lowering his voice so her grandmother wouldn't hear.
Nora let out an outraged laugh. "No, we don't!"
"You do," her grandma chimed in, making Benny splutter his drink, "but you wouldn't know it if it hit you in the face."
"Joyce, I can't believe you heard me," Benny said, clearing his throat.
"Honey, the quieter you speak, the higher my ears perk up."
Nora mulled over Benny's words and caught herself in the window's reflection. Rafe wasn't attracted to her. He flirted with anybody in a skirt. It was just his charming nature and that sexy Italian machoness.
Did she just refer to Rafe as an Italian macho? She shook her head.
"Nora, make sure you grab the keys. I'll probably be sleeping by the time you're back. But please make sure you come back," she said with a wink, "if you know what I mean."
"Ew Gran, of course I'll be back."
"Benny, you're staying over?" her grandma asked.
"Yes ma'am."
"Good, I'll have some bottles of water and paracetamol ready for you tomorrow morning. I think I'll make pancakes. It's a good hangover meal."
"You're a rockstar, Joyce."