Before we knew how to let go

Chapter 2

Nora woke to the sound of the waves.

It took longer than it should have for her to remember where she was. The bed was firmer than the one she used at home. The ceiling felt closer. The silence was different. When recognition finally arrived, it did so without ceremony.

Marrow Bay.

Her mother’s house.

The room she had not slept in for more than a decade.

She lay still, listening. The ocean did not crash or roar. It moved steadily and patiently, like something that had learned long ago that waiting was its greatest strength. Nora focused on the rhythm, hoping it would slow her breathing. It did not.

Sleep had come in fragments. Not dreams exactly, but impressions. A sensation of cold. The pressure of something pulling. Waking just before panic took shape. She told herself it meant nothing. Bodies remembered things minds forgot. That was all.

When she finally stood, the floorboard near the door creaked in protest. She froze instinctively, then relaxed when no response followed. Old habits lingered longer than logic.

The hallway smelled faintly of medicine and something floral she could not place. Evelyn was awake, sitting upright in bed, hands folded neatly in her lap as though she had been waiting.

“You should have woken me,” Nora said.

Evelyn glanced at her. “You needed sleep.”

“So do you.”

Evelyn’s lips curved slightly. “That luxury is behind me.”

Nora did not respond. She moved through the motions she knew well, checking pills, adjusting pillows, keeping her focus on tasks that required no emotion. Caregiving had always been easier than conversation.

“What are your plans?” Evelyn asked.

“For today?”

“For while you are here.”

Nora hesitated. “I have not decided.”

Evelyn nodded slowly. “You rarely do.”

The comment landed softly but left an ache behind. Nora chose not to address it.

Later, she went into town. The market was busy enough to feel normal, quiet enough to feel watched. She filled her basket with items her mother preferred, automatically, as though no time had passed at all.

“Back already?”

She turned to see Eli near the end of the aisle, holding a basket that contained very little.

“I needed supplies,” she said.

“Looks like you are planning to stay.”

“Looks can be misleading.”

He smiled faintly. “They usually are.”

They walked to the register together, conversation drifting into safe territory. Weather. Familiar businesses. The things people talked about when they were not ready to talk about anything else.

At the café, Nora noticed how easily Eli fit into the space. He greeted the owner by name. Someone clapped him on the shoulder as they passed. This was still his life. That realization carried more weight than she expected.

“How is your mother?” Eli asked.

“She is managing.”

“She always did.”

That was true, and they both knew it.

As they stood to leave, Eli hesitated, then spoke. “If you need help, or company, or just someone who understands this place, I am here.”

Nora met his eyes. She believed him.

“I know,” she said.

That afternoon, back at the house, restlessness settled in. She cleaned already clean surfaces. She rearranged drawers that did not need it. Anything to avoid the bedroom she knew she would eventually face.

When she finally sat on the bed, she noticed the photo album on the shelf. She opened it without thinking.

The faces inside felt too familiar. Birthdays. Holidays. Moments she had once believed were permanent. One photograph made her pause.

She and Eli stood barefoot on the dock, suggesting a summer that had felt endless at the time.

Nora closed the album carefully.

She had told herself she came back for her mother.

It was becoming clear that the past had other plans