Phoebe Berman's Gonna Lose It(82)

Nora takes the picture frame from my hands. “We need bubble wrap,” she cries, hugging the picture close to her chest.

“Okay!” I rub her back, trying to console her, but she continues to sob. Meg frantically fans her face. “It’s okay! I’m going to go to the store and get us bubble wrap.”

“Noooo!” Nora throws her arms around me, wailing. “Don’t leave.”

“I’ll go!” Meg offers. Nora throws her head into her hands and moans, her chest heaving with stunted breaths.

“Don’t leave,” she repeats.

“Let’s all go,” I suggest.

Nora begins taking deep breaths.

“Here.” I grab my water bottle from its spot on the floor. “Drink.”

She takes a few sips, wiping the mascara off her cheeks and taking one final big breath.

“Okay,” she exhales. “We’ll all go.”

“We’ll all go,” I agree.

“We’ll all go,” Meg repeats.

Nora throws her arms around both of us, and we walk out to my car with Meg and me holding her tightly from either side.

It’s like Big Thunder Mountain all over again.





26


Friday

(Five Days Left)

“I can’t believe you’re getting fucked tonight and I’m not going to be there to see it,” Nora whines from my passenger seat. As luck would have it, Matthew lands just about an hour after Nora needs to be at the airport for her flight. It worked out perfectly for me to take her. “I’ve waited my whole life for this and I’m missing it by a few hours.”

“First of all, no one said anything about getting fucked tonight.” I do my best to keep my eyes on the road while fighting the urge to give her a look. “Secondly, you wouldn’t be there to see it even if you were within the Los Angeles city limits.”

“Really?” she asks earnestly. “I’ve always pictured myself in the room.”

“Why would you be in the room?”

She shrugs. “That’s just how I’ve always pictured it.”

“Well, stop picturing it.”

“I can’t!” she exclaims. “Have you talked about where he’s sleeping?”

“Not yet,” I reply. “But I assume in my bed? It’s not like I’m going to make him sleep on the couch. And I want to sleep next to him, assuming he wants to sleep next to me.”

Nora throws her head forward onto the dashboard. “Of course he wants to sleep in your bed, Phoebe! He’s flying across the country to see you. He wants to do a whole lot more than sleep.”

“He hasn’t even kissed me yet.”

“What’s he waiting for?”

“I think he’s nervous,” I tell her. “Especially considering the disaster that was the last time we almost kissed.”

“You guys really are perfect for each other,” she declares. “When you’re having a freak-out, he’s all calm, cool, and collected, and now he’s being weird and you’re the chillest I’ve ever seen you. It’s awesome.”

“It is awesome,” I agree.

Nora hops right out of the car the second we pull up to the airport. Knowing her, after yesterday’s emotional goodbye, she’s anxious to make this one as quick and painless as possible. I put the car in park and get out to help her with her things.

“I love you.” I throw my arms around her. She holds on to me tightly, telling me everything I need to know all while not saying a word.

“Call me as soon as you finish.” Those are the only words she says to me before turning around and walking into the terminal.

It’s not until I start driving away that I understand what she meant.

I’ll miss her so much.



* * *



—

I see him before he sees me.

Matthew’s bouncing up and down on one foot, nervously scanning the sea of cars fighting to merge in and out of the pick-up lane as they collect their passengers. He looks adorable with his hands in the pockets of his sweats, a duffel bag draped across his chest, and his hair peeking out from the bottom of a baseball cap. It’s all I can do not to leave my car in the middle of five lanes and run to him. I maneuver as quickly and as close to the curb as I can before throwing my door open and rushing toward him.

“Hey, you!” I throw myself into his side and wrap my arms around him. I feel him startle. “Sorry.” I smirk, tilting my head upward to meet his eyes. They’re creased around the edges from smiling.

He quickly removes his hands from his pockets, untangling my arms from him for a second before pulling me back in. His hands bury themselves in the mess of my hair while he leans down and presses his cheek to the top of my head. “Hey, you,” he whispers.

I can feel my heartbeat at the base of my stomach. If he doesn’t kiss me soon, I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.

A chorus of car horns distracts me from the heat rippling through my core, and I turn my head toward the source of the chaos. An empty car with its door open has started to slowly roll backward into the onslaught of parked cars and oncoming traffic.

“Oh no,” I whisper. I’ve become paralyzed.