Even more thrilling are the changes that have been taking place all over my apartment. I can’t help but smile when I see her sweater or jacket slung over the sofa or dining chair. She’s taken to adding more flowers, colorful and lively ones, all over and I don’t complain. They smell of her, and it’s exactly what I needed in my… our home.
The apartment came to smell like her before, but now it’s taken over. Her perfume permeates the fabric on my sofa, the headboard of our bed, the mattress we make love on. The scents of her shampoo and body wash mingle with the steam in our bathroom and act, more often than not, as an aphrodisiac for me with every whiff. The array of color her wardrobe brings next to all my black, charcoal, white, and navy inspires me in the studio.
My studio.
It’s now a place of refuge for both of us. I used to hide in there for hours upon hours behind closed doors trying to deal with any and all emotion I would have in my head. Now, the door may be slightly cracked, the music may range from the occasional dark house beat but land more in the classical. Nora has brought that back to me.
The lilting music and my strongest muse, her, have brought a different life to my art. Nora often will lay upon the massive pile of pillows and read, or simply watch me work. Sometimes, she will be doing her schoolwork on the desk I’ve built for her in the corner of the studio near the windows. A nook she created is poised just opposite with a small bookcase of her favorites and an overstuffed chair that looks like Queen Anne herself would have loved.
As we promised, her schooling has not suffered as a result of our relationship, in fact, one could say it has simply flourished, and with the help and a good word from Adrianna, Nora kept her position as my teaching assistant for the remainder of the year. I’ve begun to include her in some of my lesson planning and she’s even given a lecture or two in the freshman class. They adore her, and rightly so. I’ve gotten a bit of feedback from other colleagues in the department saying how bright and insightful Nora truly is. Nice of you to wake up, I think. She’s right on track to graduate next year and I couldn’t be more proud of her and everything she is continuing to accomplish. I will support whatever path she chooses next.
Between American Thanksgiving and Christmas, I flew home for just over a week to spend some time with my parents and talk face-to-face about all that happened this fall. Nora didn’t want to stay behind, however she did because I was adamant that the first time she was with them wasn’t going to be about the past. It would be about the future.
There were several pieces of the saga involving Evan Caldwell I needed to explain and that needed to be tied up. I also visited New Scotland Yard while I was there. I wanted every loose end to be sewn up so that the new year would be a new year.
I wanted Mum and Dad to understand us, to know all about my Petal, and to deal with a few things we should have in the wake of Raissa’s passing.
Survival.
Nora has taught me so many things about it, especially when it comes to her story of survival.
I was lucky enough to have some of my work, work that focuses on her, on display in a large gallery downtown this past spring. She used that opportunity to tell her story, to use a platform to give other abuse survivors hope and resources and to simply know that they aren’t alone. She told them how survival looks different for everyone, that it has many faces, and so that became the name of the collection.
The Face of Survival.
She stands tall now, confident and proud. She’s going to ensure, within her power, no one will ever have to handle survival alone.
***
Spring warmed into a glorious summer. With classes ended for the year and finals complete, I bring up the idea of making the journey across the pond to London. I want my parents to meet and know Nora like I do. I want them to see how much she’s brought into my life. I want them to see her intelligence and feel her sunshine.
Nora has immediate fear. I understand it. I also know she wants to move past it and I want to help her do so. Her anxiety ebbed and flowed on the flight. Once outside of Heathrow and the reality set in that she didn’t have to look around in fear, she began to relax and see the city, my city, our city, in a new light. Now, I find myself sitting at a dinner table with my mother and father across from us, with my hand placed delicately on Nora’s thigh beneath the table. My heart is singing as I watch my parents fall just as in love with her as I am.
After dinner, I help clear the table with my mother, as Nora entertains my father with stories of her travels and they find they have differing opinions between Milan and Rome.
“Now that I have you alone,” she says as she packs up leftover food into glass bowls. “I can tell you that Nora is absolutely lovely, Tristan. Truly a gem, that one is.”
“She is,” I tell her with a smile even though I’m jumping up and down like a happy child on the inside. The approval from my mother is something I didn’t know that I wanted deep inside until right now. It means everything to me that she sees how special Nora is too. “I’m lucky to have her in my life.”
“And after all she went through,” she sighs heavily, “I can’t imagine it.”
“The bravery and ferocity of that woman are two of the things I love most about her.”
“She also knows how to put you in her place, doesn’t she?”
“Indeed, Mum,” I chuckle.
“Are those Raissa’s earrings she’s wearing?”
“I didn’t know if you’d recognize them. I gave them to her months back. It felt like she was willing me to give them to Nora. I hope she’d approve. I need her to know that I’m happy.”
My mother pauses, standing completely still with her head bowed, but then I see her lift her hand to swipe something away from her cheek.
“Mum, are you crying?”
I hear the sniffle then she turns around to face me. “I tried to stop it, but it just simmered over.” She walks over to me and takes my hand in hers. “She would approve. She would be so elated that you’re happy. I know it.”
I bring her hand up to my lips and kiss the top. “Thank you for saying that.”
“Tristan, I’d like it if you’d consider going to visit her memorial. I know you haven’t been ready since the service, but I feel like you’ve made such strides since then. Maybe it could offer you a bit of closure.”
I bow my head and get lost in the pattern of the tile on the floor. I want to please her by immediately saying yes, I simply don’t know if I can. “I’ll try, Mum. That’s all I have. I’ll try.”
“That’s all I can ask for, Button.”
“Bloody hell, Mum. Don’t you think I’ve long outgrown that name?”
“As long as you’re my son and have those dimples, you’ll always be cute as my Button.”
***
“Button?” Nora asks as she rolls over to place her head on my chest.
“Lord God, please don’t repeat it, especially when we’re in bed, let alone across the hall from my parents’ room.”
She laughs quietly against my skin before imprinting her lips over my heart. “Am I the first girl to stay with you in your parents’ home?”
“You are.” I slide my hand up and down her spine, occasionally letting it slip under her top to feel her soft skin. “Does that please you?”