Choice B: To Stay

As I watched the car pull around the corner, driving away into the distance, I felt the tiniest sliver of regret eat away at my insides. There had been something inside me - a kind of weird yearning to go with the mysterious woman. Yet, I had enough common sense to know not to leave with strangers. 

Plus, Nora would kill me.

Oh, hang on...

Immediately, I stuffed my freezing hands back into my jacket pocket, whirling around sharply on my heel and hurrying back the way I came. How long had I been out? I had absolutely no idea, as I'd forgotten to wear my wristwatch, and I was sure that I've been out of the house for at least thirty minutes. Although Nora hadn't specified how long her little grocery run would take, I'd reckoned that it wouldn't take that long. This meant that she was probably home by now, either freaking out or so angry that steam would be rising out of her ears. 

Neither option sounded exactly appealing.

I didn't even realise that I'd broken into a jog until I nearly crashed into a lamp post. Skidding left on the snowy streets, I decided to run, despite the fact that I knew that running and snow was never a good mix. But I needed to get back to Nora before she freaked out and called the police.

That happened once.

And then, before I knew it, I was running up the driveway and up the stairs, before sticking my key into the keyhole and flinging open the door. Nora, being Nora, had bought a 'Welcome' mat that she placed at the front door for everyone to clean their shoes before entering the house. This rule was especially enforced in winter, as everyone's shoes would have flecks of ice and snow clinging to it. I'd always obeyed that rule - Nora would go crazy if I didn't - but this time I simply didn't care. I practically leapt into the immaculately-cleaned hallway, nearly slipping on the shiny wooden floor, slammed the door behind me, then proceeded to run down the hallway and to the kitchen. Internally, I began to pray. 

Please don't let Nora be home yet, please don't let Nora be home yet, please don't...wait, what?

As I charged into the kitchen, I was greeted with quite a sight. Nora was indeed home, but instead of crying at the dinner table or on the phone with the police, she was sitting curled up underneath three woollen blankets on the living room couch, a bowl of what appeared to be either ice cream or mashed potatoes in her hand. I couldn't really tell. To be honest, from a distance, vanilla ice cream and mashed potatoes do look quite similar. 

While I stood agape by the dinner table, she slowly shifted around in an attempt to look at me. And I say "shifted" because that's literally what she did. She didn't even turn her head around or do a 360-degree turn, just shifted a little to look at me out of the corner of her eye. "Hey, Nigel," she mumbled. Her voice sounded airy, light. "Hi."

"Uh...hi?" I replied, cautiously taking a step forward. My wet shoes squeaked on the floor, and instantly, I cringed. Nora would've heard that. I half-expected her to immediately start scolding me but she acted like she hadn't even heard it. Maybe she hadn't. "Nora...are you, um, okay?"

"Oh," she shifted on the couch again, turning to the dark, blank screen of the television before swallowing a spoonful of the ice cream or mashed potato. "I'm fine."

I briefly wondered if she was high, but dismissed the thought immediately. Nora Paxley, doing drugs? It was outrageous. 

"Yeah, um, I'm going to have to disagree with you there, sis." Quickly, I kicked my wet shoes off and hurried over to the couch and attempted to sit softly beside her. Instead, I ended up sitting on her feet, which she quickly jerked away with a look of annoyance. It was the first glimmer of emotion I'd seen on her face since getting back, and I took it as a good sign. "You're not acting normal, Nora."

"Neither are you."

Oh. I seemed to be full of realisations lately. "This is because of me going out?"

She nodded, the faintest trace of a smile ghosting her lips. It was odd, you know. I felt hopeful when she was annoyed and now terrified when she smiled. "I'm getting old, Nigel."

"You're, like, twenty."

"And I'm not mother."

"Oh, god!" Everything was reverse. I was happy when Nora was mad. I was scared when Nora was happy. Now I'm mad when in fact, Nora should be. "Would you stop using that as, I don't know, some sort of fuel for your own argument? I get it, Nora. You're not Mom."

"Then why do you keep expecting me to be?" Her tone, like mine, was laced with rage, but while I was already beginning to yell, her voice was calm, quiet, deadly soft. She looked at me, our eyes connecting, and hers were sharp with boiling anger. "I did everything for you when Mom left, Nigel. I looked after you. I packed your school lunches. I drove you to school. I helped with your homework. I gave up," her voice cracked, and shivers ran down my spine. "I gave up some of what should be the best years of my life, for you. I became Mom, Nigel. I became Mom for you."

There was silence, and it wasn't the peaceful kind of silence one would hear on the edge of a sparkling lake or an old hunting cabin in the middle of the woods. It was the grim, brooding, deathly kind of silence, the type you'd hear at a funeral, or when your favorite character dies in a book. Nora sighed, ate another spoonful of ice cream/mashed potato, and said, "Just go to bed, Nigel."

I knew that this was my fault. I was old enough to know that. Or perhaps I wasn't old enough, not yet. I let Nora down, so many times, when all she wanted to do was take care of me. Maybe I couldn't realise that. 

Maybe I never would. 

I stood. The walk upstairs was long and seemed to drag on forever. My stomach had twisted itself into little knots that were incapable of being untangled, and there was an entire swarm of bees buzzing around inside, too. With my throat tight and choked, I climbed into bed, burying myself under the covers. 

The last thing I remember thinking before sleep took ahold of me was that I was damn grateful for not leaving with that woman in the car.

//

A/N:

Hey lovelies! <3

Sorry for not updating in a while! Some life things came up, and I've been pretty busy. Thanks for reading the third chapter (and the first of Choice B). If you did, please click that little star to vote because it goes a long way. Comments are appreciated too! If you didn't, feel free to leave some constructive criticism - I'm always looking for ways to improve!

I've decided to do a Question of the Chapter feature now. Hopefully you guys answer xD

QOTC: Which Choice (A or B) do you think would affect Nigel more positively and why?

Thank you for reading!

-Nicki