NORMAL (65 page)

He walks cautiously toward me, and I don't back away. I let him hug me, sagging into his embrace, and tell myself it's just a
friendly
hug. Just a
friendly
inhale of his incredible masculine scent. A
friendly
awareness of the muscle and sinew of his arms and chest. A
friendly
wave of love and desire that threatens to overwhelm my senses.

I choke back tears, grateful that I can hide my face in his tee shirt while I pull myself together.

"You're not going to sleep here, are you." It doesn't come out like a question.

"I... I can't, Sam."

He pulls away enough to look down at me but doesn't release me. He caresses my cheek tenderly, his thumb brushing over my brow. "But what about your dreams?" His voice has dropped to a whisper.

"I have to get used to sleepin' alone again anyway," I murmur sadly, in awe that it has only been two nights when it feels like a lifetime. I swallow nervously and tell myself to do a better job disguising my tone.
He's supposed to think this is what you want
, I remind myself.

"Ror..."

Whatever he wants to say, I don't let get said. The wrong words, or the right ones, depending on how you look at it, could be my undoing.

I twist out of his embrace and mutter a forced goodbye, hoping he doesn't read too much into the fact that I said
goodbye
and not
goodnight
.

I walk through our adjoining doors, closing mine securely behind me.

It's less than thirty minutes before Carl knocks tentatively at my door and I let her in. I'm nearly finished packing by then. She reports that Tuck is next door,
being there
for Sam. Whatever that means for guys. I wonder if I'm being presumptuous in even thinking that he'd be upset and in need of support. Just because I am. Just because I'm fucking
heartbroken
. I have Carl, and then I'll have my mom. Otherwise I don't know how strong I'd be in seeing through this whole 'letting Sam go' thing.

My heart hurts. It does. I know it sounds trite, but it does, it
hurts
.

But it's not just my heart. There's this hollow feeling in my stomach. Like it's unsettled. Like something's not right and there's no way to
make
it right. Like hopelessness.

It's grief,
I realize belatedly, and I feel guilty that I'm feeling even the smallest piece of what I felt when I lost Cam.

I'm not losing Sam
, I remind myself, he just can't be
mine
anymore, and the whole point is so I
don't
lose him. It's a strange contradiction - giving him up to avoid losing him, and I'm feeling so confused by the juxtaposition of right and wrong. What I intelligently know to be right
feels
wrong and what I know to be wrong
feels
right.

Carl watches me warily while I finish packing and I try to remain numb. Every now and then I swipe at my cheeks to banish rogue tears, and if Carl notices, she doesn't mention it.

Finally I grab the hotel stationary from the writing desk and write Sam a note. I don't want him to worry when he wakes up and realizes I'm gone. Carl will tell Tuck I left once I'm on the plane and it's up to Tuck to tell Sam whenever he thinks it best.

I hear muffled voices talking in hushed tones coming from next door but don't bother trying to make out the conversation. It really is none of my business.

I rewrite the note no fewer than four times. In the end, I simply tell him that my mother flew in to retrieve me and that I didn't want to wake him to say goodbye. I thank him for everything he's done for me and for his support in dealing with Robin. And for saving my life. I tell him that he is still my best friend in the world and I love him for it. I beg him to try to enjoy what's left of his spring break. And I apologize.

Carl and I both startle when we hear a loud bang, like something being thrown against the wall, instantly followed by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. My eyes dart to Carl's and I second guess my decision for the hundredth time. Carl offers me a sympathetic smile.

"Anger issues," she shrugs, "he'll be fine."

"Yeah... yeah, you're right. Of course he will," I murmur.

But will I?

I slip the note half under our adjoining door, not wanting him to notice it until later, or preferably tomorrow morning.

"Come on," I urge Carl. "Let's get the hell out of here before I change my mind."

Carl stands and opens the door so I can roll out my luggage. "Maybe if you're so close to changing your mind about Cap it's because you're not sure you're doing the right thing..."

"Well I know the right thing for Sam isn't what he went through the past couple of days. Would you stay with Tuck if it meant he could end up hurt or arrested?" I ask her pointedly. "Or worse," I add more quietly, knowing she won't get the reference to Cam, but my words are more for myself than for Carl.

She doesn't answer me. She knows she couldn't possibly put herself in my shoes. She could never understand what it's like to wear my scars. To have to live with my choices, and their consequences. And Robin's perpetual shadow. To have no way of knowing when it might find me again, or what might happen the next time it does. But I have to do everything I can to get the target off of Sam's back, and to do that, I need to put enough distance between us so that he won't become collateral damage in the disaster that is my life.

I leave any remnants of Normal Rory behind - she was only ever an illusion anyway - and ride to the airport in a melancholic silence. Carl holds my hand, giving me a supportive squeeze every now and then.

My mom is waiting when we arrive at Miami International. She is disheveled and emotional and reminiscent of the version of her I remember from a year ago - from the aftermath - not the strong woman who in recent months had begun to heal along with me.

We say an emotional goodbye to Carl, and on the flight home, I tell my mother everything. Everything that happened - not only with Robin, but with Sam. She doesn't offer me advice, only love and support, while she tries with all she has to comfort my broken heart like only a mother could. I know she's in some semblance of shock, and I suspect it has more to do with Sam and me than what Robin did.

She whispers soothing words and promises that everything is going to be okay. But I know from experience that some wounds, they're permanent - that even if they heal, they scar so profoundly that you are never, ever
okay
again.

Not
The End

####

About the Author:

D
anielle Pearl lives in New Jersey with her husband and delicious little boys, Cameron and Liam. She is a life-long book enthusiast who has been writing since she could hold a pencil.

Acknowledgments

N
ormal is the first novel I published, but certainly not the first I wrote. The woman to blame - who bought me those blank-paged journals as a child that never ended up filled with anything other than pure fiction, who enlisted her magical nagging powers that she'd probably refer to as "encouragement", and mixed in a little expert Jewish guilt - is Margo Meissner Bielski. Yep, you guessed it - she's my mother. From naming me after her favorite novelist, to slipping those random
 you should be a writer
s, and 
you were born to write
s, into any random, completely unrelated conversation, my mother's unwavering support, although invariably rewarded with an eye-roll at best, is without a doubt, the reason I am here writing acknowledgments for a completed novel today. She also did me the favor of marrying my father, Jay Bielski, whom no one can deny contributed at least the vast majority of my genetics, including that 
Defiant
 spirit I've so often been accused of.
I also must thank Lana Vintfeld, more 
mother
 than 
in-law
, unpaid nanny and life saver extraordinaire, without whom there is no question this novel simply wouldn't exist. The same goes for Mike Vintfeld, my go-to babysitter and carpooler, handyman and engineer, who creates time for me by taking on everything himself. They are, without question, the elusive X in the equation: 

X + two pre-school aged boys  = Completed Novel (Sorry guys, they're all mine).

To Drew "Drewdle" Pottheiser, who will forever hold the honor of being the first person to read 
Normal
 (or any of my novels, in fact), and whose kind words and support gave me courage to take the steps from wannabe writer to published author.

To Rebecca Bielski, the sister who hopefully will have actually read the damn book by the time this is published, and to Gabi Zahn, whose upcoming wedding pushed me to finish this book before the highly anticipated festivities took over my life (and who may very well be Gabi Bielski by the time she reads this!)

Normal
 was inspired by an article in a blog I happened upon several years ago, the source and author of which, for the life of me, I cannot remember. More than the blog though - which was a compelling story of courage and strength by a teen victim of abuse and sexual violence - were the readers' comments. Comment upon comment of victim-blaming and 
she should have just dumped him
s, as if it were all black and white, quite frankly, horrified me. So some time later, I decided to write the gray, and Rory's story was born. Thank you for reading!

Continue reading the story of Rory and Sam in the next
Normal
book:
Okay
, coming out soon!